Devil’s Sinner: Fallen Dynasty Book 3

by Starling, Isabella

  “We’ll see about that, won’t we Violet?” He laughed and then the door slammed shut. “I believe, in time, that you will learn to call me Master with a lot more enthusiasm than Devlin ever heard from those lips.”

  You’re wrong.

  The hint of light that was on the edge of my blindfold disappeared. I was once again absolute darkness. For how long? I had no idea. If I had only been two days that felt like an eternity, two more might feel like an actual death sentence.

  I couldn’t give in to Connor, no matter how much he tortured me. He hadn’t taken what he wanted because his intention was to get me to sign a contract.

  I made that mistake once.

  Never again.

  Even if it kills me.

  Three

  Devlin

  That son of a bitch Peterson wasn't in his office, so his lavish estate was my next stop.

  I stood in front of the door, thanking my lucky stars the bastard didn't have security gates to prevent me from entering his property. I rang the doorbell, once, twice, with no answer. Finally, I rang it again, this time not letting go until the door flew open.

  A frightened maid stood on the other side. "Y-Yes?"

  "Connor Peterson," I got out through gritted teeth. "I need to talk to him, now."

  "I'm afraid Mr. P-Peterson isn't at home," she managed to get out. "C-Can I take a message?"

  "No need."

  A figure appeared behind the maid in the hallway.

  She had Violet's beauty, but she was older than her by some years, though she looked like she could've been my princess' mother. The years had not been kind to Georgia. Her long, dark hair was lank and thin, unlike my princess' long flowing locks. Her eyes were dull, the shine in them dimmed. She was the shadow of the woman I'd seen at the Cabots parties years ago. Her husband had ruined her, and I'd never forgive myself if he did the same thing to my property.

  "What are you doing here, Devlin?" Georgia Peterson spoke clearly, but with an air of fear surrounding her. I knew something was off the moment I saw her. People didn't just lose that sparkle in their eyes for nothing, and Georgia was a shell of her former self. Now it was on me to figure out why, though I had a feeling my suspicions were correct. And if I was right, Violet was in danger just as much as her sister was.

  "I've come to take back what's mine," I muttered as the maid scurried away, leaving me alone with Georgia who attempted to close the door in my face. Quickly, I maneuvered my foot in the space between the door and the frame, glaring at the woman who was trying to prevent me from getting what was mine. "I'd advise you to let me in, Georgia."

  "I'm afraid I can't do that." Her voice was confident, but I detected a slight tremor to it. What the hell is she afraid of? "Please, Devlin. It would really be the best for all of us if you just left."

  "Like fuck I will." I rattled the handle. "Either you open this door right the fuck now, or you'd better step aside, because I'm going to break it down."

  She hesitated, giving me enough time to ram my shoulder into the door which busted open, hanging pathetically off the hinges. Georgia shrieked, stumbling back in an effort to get away from me. Now, she was terrified, and the sick part of my mind was pleased when she stuttered, "I'm c-calling the cops!"

  "No, you're not." I walked inside her home and caught her just as she raised her cell to her ear. Before it could ring, I grabbed it from her hand and smashed the phone on the ground, grinding my heel into it. "I told you, Georgia. I'm not letting you get away with this. With whoring out your own sister. If you don't help me find her, I'm going to tear this place to shreds looking for her. You got that?"

  "What do you want?" she screamed at me, eyes filled with contempt.

  "I want Violet." My voice was calm, though I had to resist every urge I had not to push her aside and keep searching for my woman. "I know you called her. I know you made her leave. What the hell did you tell her, Georgia? You must've lied to her."

  "All I told her was the truth!" Georgia was screaming, her face reddening as she stared me down. "That you're the one who put our father in jail."

  "You don't know what the hell you're talking about. I had nothing to do with that."

  "More lies, Devlin?" She laughed bitterly. "At least Violet's safe now, away from you. She'll never belong to you again."

  "That's where you're wrong." I approached her, and she shrank back in fear, even though I never laid a finger on her. "I'm getting her back. And if you think she's safe with your psychotic husband, you're more fucked up than I thought. Now tell me where she is."

  She looked away, squirming beneath my watchful gaze. It was then that I noticed it, the faint, blueish hint to the skin around her eye, and then more of it, soft blue and purple circles on her forearm. Georgia saw me looking, and forcibly pulled down the sleeve of her dress.

  "What the hell is going on here?"

  Momentarily distracted, I looked away from Georgia to find Peterson standing in the lobby looking furious. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to rip his head clean off his shoulders. I took three steps forward, and the bastard scrambled, trying to get away from me.

  "What's happening is that you're fucking dying tonight, Peterson."

  "Not so fast," the guy laughed, clicking his fingers. "First of all, Windsor, I'll bill you for the door. The stained glass on it was Italian. Gothic. Cost a fortune as you might imagine, though I'm sure you'll gladly replace it to keep this little... outburst of yours under wraps."

  Two thugs appeared behind the bastard, a silent warning of what was going to happen if I didn't stop pursuing Violet.

  "Now, I really think you've outstayed your welcome," Peterson went on coolly. "I suggest you get the fuck out of my house before I have you thrown out."

  I ignored his words, taking a step back. Instantly, the goons stepped forward, one on each side of Connor. I smirked, saying, "Can't even defend yourself, can you, you fuck?"

  "Do watch your tongue," the sly bastard said with a slimy smile.

  "Where is she? Where is Violet?"

  "Little Violet Cabot?" His voice dripped with innocence, but I knew just how fake it was. He was a sick, perverted fuck and I was going to have his balls for this. "I just gave her a ride to the bus station, like she asked. She was so eager to get away from you, Windsor. I wonder what the fuck you did to her."

  "Liar," I snarled. "Does your wife know you were trying to buy her sister, Peterson? Does she know what a sick, sick son of a bitch you are?"

  The prick didn't answer, instead walking over nonchalantly to his wife and placing his arm around her waist. Surely, I wasn't the only one who saw her flinch, but neither of the thugs responded to it, making me wonder how long Peterson had been abusing the woman right under everyone's eyes.

  "Of course she knows," Connor finally replied, his saccharine smile firmly in place and his persuasive gaze locked with his wife. "She knows everything, like a good wife should. Don't you, dear?"

  "I d-do," Georgia stuttered, and I watched her husband pinch her skin firmly when she stuttered. "I know what you did to her, too, Devlin."

  Before I could object, Connor sighed heavily and went on. "Of course, I tried to do things the right way and buy the girl... Make it easier for you, Windsor. But you just had to make it so very difficult, didn't you?"

  I didn't answer, just stared at him with barely controlled rage flowing through my veins. My hands had formed fists at my sides, and I had to force myself to stay calm.

  "I didn't make anything difficult," I finally said. "You're the one kidnapping innocent young women."

  "Me?" Peterson laughed out loud, managing to piss me off even more. "I could say the same for you, Windsor, and I would have a willing witness to support this statement."

  "Violet would never say that," I hissed.

  "Oh, she would." He shrugged as if he didn't have a care in the world. "But I suppose you never really knew her, did you, Windsor? I learned more about the girl while driving her to the bus stop than you did
all these years. I can't help but feel sorry for you, old sport."

  "You're going to pay for this. Now." I was done holding back. I allowed the red mist to take over, descending my fury upon Peterson. I fully anticipated his thugs to stop me, and was ready to fight them off, but what I didn't see coming was Georgia throwing herself at me, clawing at my face.

  "Let go of him, you bastard!" she screamed at the top of her voice. "First my sister, now my husband? What is wrong with you, Devlin, you fucking jerk?"

  "Calm down," I demanded, grabbing her by the wrists firmly, but gently and glaring at Peterson. "Control your woman."

  He merely smirked, but Georgia wasn't nearly done yet. She kept cursing, going at me like an enraged cat, trying to scratch my face, all the while spewing her vitriol.

  "You tried to make my little sister your own personal whore! You tried to force her into a compromising position so she had no choice but to obey you!"

  "Yeah?" I asked calmly. "And where were you through all of this, big sister? Did you try to help her?"

  "Fuck you," she snarled. "You always hated us! You hated my entire family, you wanted to see us go down since the beginning! All of this was just some... sick revenge ploy to get back at us! Just admit it, Devlin! You're so hung up on revenge you're ready to use an innocent, eighteen-year-old girl just to get vengeance!"

  As she spewed insult after insult at me, I finally began to realize just how wrong she was. I didn't want revenge. Yes, I had my beef with the Cabots, but it wasn't about that with Violet, maybe never had been. I wanted her as a woman, as a partner, as a plaything.

  And I was going to get her back, even if it was over her sister's dead body.

  I let go of her wrists and she began slamming her fists over my body again. I could barely feel the pain. There was only one thing on my mind.

  I wanted Connor's blood. I wanted to hurt him for his lies and betrayal.

  Before I could tell Georgia just how wrong she was by putting all the blame on me, a heavy thud sounded against the back of my head. I saw stars, the world dancing before my eyes in bright, exploding colors.

  "Fuck," I muttered, clutching my head as I stumbled back. Two strong pairs of arms grabbed me, nearly lifting me off the ground. The guards had attacked me, unprovoked, when I was least expecting it. "Get your filthy hands off of me, you fucking goons! Don't you know who I am?"

  "You're nobody here," Peterson snarled at me as I was lifted off my feet, carried out of the house and tossed on the gravel outside. My head was still pounding and I groaned, attempting to pick myself up unsuccessfully. Peterson followed his thugs outside, staring at me on the ground with barely held-back glee on his round face. "You're done here, Windsor. Get the hell off my property."

  "Not before you give her back." The words took all my strength and I sputtered when one of the muscular guards kicked me in the stomach. They were going to fucking pay for this, all of them. "I want my Violet back, and I want her back now."

  "Get out of my face," Peterson said with disgust. He took a long, patronizing look at me before spitting in my face. I glared back, wiping off his disgusting saliva. "Good fucking riddance, Windsor."

  With those words, he walked away, leaving me sprawled out on the ground.

  "We'll see who gets rid of who," I called out after him, still on the ground. "When I'm done with you-"

  I didn't get to finish my sentence. One of the guards kicked his steel-tipped boot in my face, and then everything went dark.

  Four

  Violet

  At some point, I stopped feeling the pain. Everything was just numb.

  My wrists bled a couple of times when I twisted against the ropes and it felt like the fibers had been fused with my scabs. I used to be able to tell that my feet were dragging the floor, but I wasn’t even sure I even had toes anymore. My muscles were so weak that they couldn’t function anymore.

  But I wasn’t broken.

  I refused to let Connor break me, no matter how long he left me in this musty room, even if I stayed there so long I began to rot. My brain had already started--my body would be next--if it hadn’t started yet.

  I wondered what death would actually be like. Would I see the bright light and all of the people I loved, or would my sins make the flames slowly crawl along my skin until the fires of hell consumed me? I was pretty sure it was the latter that I deserved.

  It was hard to remember the proud, naive, spoiled little girl that used to call herself Violet Cabot. I didn’t deserve that name anymore. My fall from grace was by design, and I could very well die before I knew who was responsible. Devlin? The boy I loved, the man I gave myself to--the devil himself. Or was it Connor? My sister’s psychopathic husband who simply took what he was denied. Was he the real devil?

  My thoughts were unable to process everything. I was getting so weak and weary that abstract chaos was the only thing left in my head. I began to see shapes and images in the darkness of my blindfold. Everything that had happened from the moment my father was arrested until Connor’s fist crashed into my skull played like a movie in front of me. Nothing made sense. All of the shapes and images faded together until I was staring at something else--a funeral.

  “D-daddy?” I don’t know if I actually said the words, or if it was just an audible hallucination, but I just knew he was gone.

  Suddenly, I was no longer bound by the ropes. I was standing in the room--family and friends were all around me.

  “Help!” I ran to Rhys, my brother, and grabbed his arm.

  “Violet!” He turned to me and smiled. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “It’s…” I looked towards the casket. “I have to be here. I loved…”

  “Yourself?” Rhys laughed. “Of course you would show up to your own funeral.”

  “What?” I took a step back, and every face in the room was staring at me--they started laughing--loud, maniacal laughter like they were savages savoring my demise.

  I pushed my way through the laughing crowd. There were two people standing in front of the casket. My father--and Devlin. I ran to them and saw tears in their eyes. They were the only ones that weren’t laughing. The horrific echo behind me sounded like madness, but they looked to be in actual mourning.

  “I really did love her, you know.” Devlin looked at my father.

  “I know.” My father nodded. “We all did.”

  “She was such a good fuck.” Devlin’s lips spread into a cartoonish grin and my father’s did the same--then they started laughing like all of the others.

  I grabbed my ears to try and silence the madness. The people in the room walked closer--like they were trying to cocoon me in their devastation. I looked up into the eyes of my father, but I didn’t see the kind stare of Hugo Cabot. I saw bright red coals where his eyes should have been. His face began to decay. I screamed, jerked, thrashed, and then the images began to fade.

  I thrashed and screamed until all I saw was darkness. I was never at my funeral. I was still in the musty room where I had been since I first woke up in Connor’s version of hell. It was just a hallucination, or a nightmare--I wasn’t even sure which one it was.

  A noise snapped me back as close to reality as I could get. The door was opening. Light appeared at the edge of my blindfold and then heavy footsteps echoed in my ears. I knew it was Connor. Nobody else had any idea I was there. He was the one who decided if I lived or died--my path to freedom was clear, but I had already chosen eternal damnation. My mind had obviously accepted that. It gave me a glimpse that would soon be all too real.

  “I have a present for you, dear Violet.” Connor touched my lips and I felt him smearing something on them. “Have a taste…”

  I hesitated, but I was so hungry--so thirsty--I forced my dry tongue across my cracked lips and tasted something that was both sweet and metallic. Even in my current state, I was able to ascertain that it was blood.

  “What the hell?” I sputtered to try and force it out of my mouth, but I didn’t have enough saliva.
It lingered on my tongue.

  “That’s Devlin’s blood, dear Violet. Since you refuse to sign your name on my contract, I thought you would like to be closer to the man who still owns you.” A laugh echoed, almost as sinister as the ones from my nightmare.

  “Did you…” I struggled with my words. “Kill him?”

  “No.” I heard Connor’s feet shuffling. “Not yet, anyway. We just had a talk.”

  I didn’t know if Connor was telling me the truth. For all I knew, he could have actually killed Devlin. If he was capable of kidnapping me and holding me prisoner, then he was certainly capable of a lot more than I ever realized.

  Tasting Devlin’s blood brought some focus and clarity to my thoughts, even if it sickened me to have it on my lips. I needed answers. I didn’t want to die without knowing the truth, or at least having something to think about other than the chaos in my head.

  “Did Devlin really have my father arrested?” I choked on my words, but I had to keep talking. I had to get as much information as he would give me before he left. “Was he responsible?”

  “Honestly, dear Violet?” Connor took a step towards me. “I have no fucking idea.”

  “But Georgia said…” It was so hard to speak--it was taking everything I had to make thoughts form words.

  “Georgia was just following the script I wrote for her.” Connor’s words snapped in the air like a violent symphony. “She’s quite convincing when she’s doing what I tell her to do--right? It’s too bad it took her so long to learn how to be so fucking obedient--maybe I would have learned to love her if she didn’t have so much Cabot in her.”

  “You…” There were so many things I wanted to call him, but I couldn’t make my lips form the words--maybe it was fear.

  “But you, dear Violet.” Connor chuckled. “I’m not going to make that mistake with you. Your name will be on a contract. You won’t even remember what it means to be a Cabot when those ropes finally come off.”