Twisted: A Dark Romance (Barrowlands Book 1)

by Esme Devlin

  I back away from her, only making it a step before a wall stops me. “What will happen to her there?”

  “She will live her life. Contribute toward research for the cure that Baron is partly funding if she chooses to. I told you I’d show you the truth behind all the layers, and here it is. Yes, he wants to rule the world, but unlike his father, he has no desire to rule amongst the ruins of it.”

  I do nothing for a few moments, merely blink at her.

  Is everything I thought I knew about him false?

  My thoughts swirl together, and I can’t see the logic from the confusion. It’s like walking around in a maze full of smoke and mirrors.

  “Why are you telling me this? Why now?” I shake my head, as if that will help me see clearly.

  “Because you are going with her.”

  My eyes narrow into slits.

  “I don’t presume to know what you feel in here for my grandson,” she taps her finger against the middle of my chest. “If you hate him, you will get in that car. If you love him, you will understand that his work here is too important, and you create for him both a liability and a distraction, and you will get in that car.”

  “I-I…” My words trail off. If there is one thing Baron taught me, it’s not to speak until you know what you’re going to say.

  Except I still don’t know what I’m going to say.

  This is everything I wanted. I’ve spent the entire time here trying to find out if there is a place that’s better than this, better than the carnival, better than a constant cycle of being used and played with at the behest of men.

  And now I know there is.

  All I have to do is get in that car.

  But something is stopping me, and I know exactly what it is. An enormous figure in a terrifying mask that has never made me feel so wanted. So needed. So frightened and euphoric.

  And now I know he’s not wholly the monster I thought he was. There is good in there, buried under twisted layers of deception and trickery.

  “I don’t think I can leave him,” I tell her. “I don’t think I want to.”

  Celeste lets out a sigh. “What is one person’s wants in comparison with the ashes of the world?”

  The woman makes a point, but she misses one key detail.

  I’m not only one person anymore.

  30

  Baron

  The sun doesn’t have long left in the sky, the chance of a clean shot setting with it. Not that a clean shot is always easy with this godforsaken mask covering my face, but still. It’s damn near impossible in the dark.

  “We should call it a night,” Andrei shouts from the tree line. He has to shout because the wind is blasting the trees into a hundred thousand leaves.

  I spin around to face him and shake my head.

  Not yet.

  We’ve only made three kills, losing two of them to the dogs before we could catch up. I like to keep the dogs hungry when I know there’s a car bound for the port.

  And three kills aren’t enough.

  Three is abnormally low.

  Three either means that the fences I have slashed across my part of the island have suddenly become impregnable, or it means we haven’t found all the rats yet.

  If I was a gambling man, I’d bet my part of the island on the latter.

  And I don’t like rats scuttling around my part. Especially on a night like this one.

  Andrei trudges over, every step exaggerated because of the thigh-high grass that’ll soon fade away with the autumn. These hunts are always easier in winter. More enjoyable too, even with the cold. Far fewer places to hide when everything is coated in snow, and there’s nothing like seeing dark crimson seeping into pure, untouched white.

  It only adds to the amusement, in my humble opinion.

  Andrei’s surrounded by our newest litter of pups, whistling occasionally when one takes it upon himself to go for a wander. There was a runt in this litter, a blue female who’ll probably never have enough stamina to keep up with the pack, but I brought her along regardless. It’s important to expose them—like humans—to all sorts when they’re young and impressionable. Doubly so when they’ll grow up to be one-hundred pounds of sheer muscle. Even a runt Cane Corso is still a Cane Corso, and it’ll knock you off your feet if it grows up to be skittish at the sound of a gunshot.

  I reach down into the grass and pick her up, tucking the little thing under my arm while I rest my rifle on my shoulder.

  “There should be more.”

  “Might be on the other side tonight,” Andrei suggests with a shrug. “There’s a storm coming in, any man with wits would stay as far away from the coast as possible.”

  I let out a hollow laugh. “You’re presuming these men have wits.”

  “I sent six of our own down to the quarry and told them not to stop until they reached the road. For all we know, they might have caught twenty.”

  I start walking parallel to the road, and Andrei falls into step beside me, the dogs bouncing around at our ankles. If they knew I couldn’t see a fucking thing other than what was directly in front of my face, they’d think twice about that. I’m going to end up stepping on one of the little shits. “True. Still, I want to be sure.”

  Before I’ve finished my sentence, the sound of barking cuts through the wind. It’s coming from the direction of the road.

  I turn to face Andrei, and the grin on his face is a mile wide.

  “What was that you said about calling it a night?”

  He shakes his head, still smiling. “Fuck yourself.”

  We follow in the general direction of the barking in near darkness until the little red lights I attached to their collars become visible. That was my idea. Like always, Andrei told me it was madness. What good is a hunting dog if you can see it from a mile away? Like almost always, I proved Andrei wrong when I set a man loose half a mile down the road and set three of them off on his tail.

  The man didn’t make it very far, and now I get a thrill every time Andrei points to one of the tiny red lights glowing in the distance.

  “There,” he says, right on cue.

  The cluster of red lights duck and dive in all directions, telling me we’re probably too late. Whoever the fucker was is already bleeding out, and if he wasn’t, he soon will be.

  “Remind me to feed them more next time,” I tell him.

  Andrei just shakes his head. “We should head back to the road and make for the port. We can take our time that way.”

  I let out a sigh. “Very well. Get the dogs to check that there’s nothing else lurking and meet me there.”

  Since my whistles turn to nothing, I click my tongue for the pups to follow me and set off in the truck’s direction. It’s not a long drive to the port, and leaving soon means we’ll probably arrive about an hour before the car from the hotel does.

  I always keep myself hidden away, never letting the girl—or girls—see me. Better to let them think it is Celeste sneaking them away. I, after all, have a reputation to uphold. But nonetheless, from time to time I like to make sure they reach their destination.

  Call it a spot-check.

  I ensure that everyone is doing exactly what they’re paid—or fed—to do. From the driver to the ferryman to my very own dear grandmother who sends them off.

  Call that paranoia, but I believe if you always expect the worst from everyone you know, you’ll never be disappointed.

  I put the pups in the back of the truck and let down the hatch on the trailer for the dogs’ arrival before getting into the driver’s seat.

  I tap the steering wheel.

  I’m tempted to turn the thing around.

  I’ve not been letting myself reach the stage of boredom. Not since she betrayed me. Not since I put her down in the cells and locked the door.

  Boredom is dangerous.

  Boredom is just you and your mind leading you down a path you wouldn’t be wandering if you had something else to do.

  And that’s a very dangerous t
hing when the person you spend every minute of boredom wandering down that path with is a person who broke your trust. When you start to think that maybe you should let her off that path, maybe she’d be happier on another path. Maybe a path with a bed, for starters.

  But things won’t always be this difficult for her. Not when I’ve given her what she needs. Not when she’s thick with my child. She’ll be happier then. She’ll have a purpose that isn’t just sitting around all day waiting for me to fuck her. I’ll make her happy. And I can’t fucking do that while I’m sitting out here in the middle of nowhere, can I?

  I let out a sigh of relief when I hear Andrei at the trailer.

  About time, too.

  And just like that, the path fades back into the shadows, the temptation wanes, and the feeling of being on an even keel returns.

  I’ll see her soon enough.

  31

  Sapphire

  I can’t do it.

  I can’t leave him.

  Not now that I know the truth.

  But why did I ever think I had a choice? How many times in my life have people tricked me into thinking I had a choice, only to take it away when my choice didn’t align with their own?

  Countless. And I’m fucking sick of it.

  I kick out against the driver's seat—the same driver who bundled me into the car—losing my balance when the vehicle swerves. With my hands tied behind my back, there’s nothing to hold on to, and I fall into Kayleen’s shoulder.

  “Settle her down or she’s going in the fucking trunk!” the driver barks around his seat.

  “You’re doing the right thing. I know it’s hard.” Kayleen shakes her head—a gesture I’m sure she probably thinks is comforting—as she helps me back up. “Just please, be calm.”

  I ignore her and focus on the driver. “You don’t understand. Baron would never allow this.”

  He just laughs. “I don’t take orders from Baron. I take orders from Celeste.”

  “Please,” I beg him, feeling my chest tighten. “He’ll want me back. I never leave his side.”

  “You think you’re the first one to try this?” he mutters, letting out a laugh. “Believe me, honey, they all thank me when they realize I’m rescuing them. You’re safe now. You’re going to a better life.”

  He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know who I am. “I’m Sapphire!” I tell him. “You must have seen me. Baron makes me paint my face, you won’t recognize me, but he wouldn’t want me gone. I never leave his side. You have to…” My voice trails off, losing some of my enthusiasm when he slows the car to a stop and yanks up the handbrake.

  My nerves go on the crawl when he opens his door and jumps down. I back away from my door as he swings it open, but there’s not enough room to get out of his reach. His hand grips around my neck and when I try to kick, he only squeezes tighter. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up. I will not tell you again. One more peep out of you, and I’ll tie you to the tow bar and make you run the rest of the way. Understand?”

  He releases his grip just enough to let me nod my head through huge gasping breaths.

  The man narrows his eyes and stares at me for a moment, then drops me and jumps back in the driver’s seat. Kayleen’s hand creeps over the seats and slips into mine, giving it a squeeze.

  And my stomach feels heavy.

  If I don’t get out of here, there’s a chance I’ll never see him again.

  Would he know where I’d gone? Would he have the resources to come and get me?

  Would he even bother?

  That’s the thought which has something aching inside my chest.

  And it barely makes any sense, because until an hour ago I thought he was a monster. I thought I’d have to leave him, in order to protect the part of us both that is growing inside me.

  Tears prick my eyes as a sense of hopelessness settles in the pit of my stomach.

  Maybe one day, I’ll look back on all of this and realize it was all just a nightmare. A trick of the mind, like how Baron explained. Stockholm syndrome, nature's way of helping you cope.

  My hands become numb as we drive farther and farther away from the place I only ever wanted to escape from. I look out of the window and watch the sunset.

  Only when night has almost fallen does the car roll to a stop.

  I lean across in my seat, trying to see what’s up ahead through the gap between the seats.

  A large mountain range looms in the distance, almost black against an almost blacker sky. But I can just vaguely make out an opening.

  And I know that opening.

  The Carnival Cave.

  The Carnival Cave?

  32

  Baron

  I don’t do anything. Not for a long time.

  Who knows how much time has passed since I walked in here? Minutes? Hours? Could be either. Could be none.

  All I do is stare at the empty pile of blankets on the floor where she should be sleeping right now. There should be an outline there. The gentle rise and fall of her chest. She likes to wrap her fist around the blanket and tuck it under her chin, leaving only the smallest hint of her dark hair peeking out.

  Sometimes, she’s awake when I come to her, and that is fine. But my favorite nights are those when she is already lost inside her dreams.

  Those nights, I sit on the chair where I sit right now, and I watch her. I wonder what she dreams about. I wonder what scares her.

  But she’s not there. There is no little fist wrapped in a blanket, no sliver of dark hair.

  I blink.

  Blink again.

  Maybe I’m just hallucinating.

  I have known stranger things than hallucinations to happen. I can barely remember what is to pretend to be sane anymore. Maybe the madness has finally caught up with me.

  That must be what's happening. She is here, but my mind is playing a ghastly little trick on me.

  It has to be.

  Because if she has really been taken from me, I will burn the ashes of the world down all over again. And I’ve never wanted that. I swear, I’ve never wanted to have to do that.

  But the longer I stare at the empty nest, the tighter my ribs feel.

  I don’t move, though. Not right now. I don’t trust myself to move. I hardly trust myself to breathe.

  I must think.

  Since the day I met Andrei, he has maintained that my own audacious nature will be my downfall. I prefer not to take too long in the thinking. Taking too long in the thinking only lends more opportunity to doubt.

  Doubt leads to indecision. Indecision leads to hesitation. Hesitation gets you killed.

  But for once, in possibly my entire life, I know I need to think about this.

  Someone has betrayed me.

  Sapphire has betrayed me.

  No.

  No.

  She wouldn’t. She would.

  No, no, she wouldn’t. I watched her face light up when she stirred from sleep. She wouldn’t leave me. Not now. Not when I was going to make everything so perfect for her. Not when I was going to build her a new world and hand it over to her, to our boys.

  She didn’t know that, though.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Someone betrayed me. Someone who’s not her.

  There are only two people here who would ever take it upon themselves to do something so bold, and one of them was with me the whole time.

  33

  Baron

  I enter Celeste’s bedroom without knocking.

  “Where did she go?”

  She’s sitting propped up in bed, swamped in garishly colored patchwork blankets.

  “Baron, I’m sorr—”

  I hold my hand up while I cross the room, cutting her off. I have no need of her sympathy. There is nothing to be sorry for. I will fix this mess and bring her back to me. “Now, now. No need for that. Answer the question.”

  Celeste presses her lips together tightly as I sit down on the edge of her bed. “There was nothing I could do to stop her. She had a knif
e and made it to the car. She’ll be on the boat by now.”

  I smile, though she can’t see it. “Come now, Celeste. I watched the tapes, and we both know only one of you is smart enough to think of such a ruse.” I shake my head. “I watched one girl get out of that car and step on the boat, and that girl was not Sapphire. Where did she go?”

  “You went to the port?”

  “I did.”

  Her lips tighten as she looks down at her quilt. “I fear you are not in the correct frame of mind for us to be having this conversation.”

  “Am I not calm?”

  She narrows her eyes. “That is exactly what concerns me.”

  I shake my head. “Enough of this nonsense. You will tell me where she is, or I will snap your neck, here and now, before feeding you to the swine.”

  Celeste gives me a tight-lipped smile.

  “Better?” I ask her.

  She inclines her head in a nod and clears her throat. “I sent her back to Maxim.”

  I let out a hollow laugh. This is hardly the time for jokes. “No.”

  Celeste lets out an audible breath and gazes around the room.

  “You joke with me, Celeste. Surely. Where is she?”

  Her eyes snap back to mine. “She is with Maxim.”

  “Why?”

  “Maxim is the only thing standing between you and your hold over the entire island. He is a problem, and yet you choose to ignore him. I was merely expediting the process.”

  “You sent her there so I would go and fetch her—starting a war in the process.”

  “Finishing it, too,” she says, nodding.

  I narrow my eyes at her. I do not appreciate being manipulated. In fact, that is very much an understatement. Nobody manipulates me.

  But I can’t help admiring someone who thinks she can. “And you wanted to wait to reveal this, isn’t that right? You wanted me to think she had gone to the port of her own accord, and all hope was lost? You wanted me at my wit’s end and then you’d swoop in and reveal her true whereabouts and I would take Maxim out and then…? Then what would you have me do in this little plan of yours? At what point in this grand scheme would I stop being your puppet?”