“You crazy bastards,” I say as they point their guns. Jaxon in one direction, Owen in the other. If Jaxon doesn’t come home from this heist, Quinn will never forgive me. She’ll kill me. My ear rings and I yank out the earpiece as the shots are fired. Gunfire lights up the computer monitor. Empty shells hit the floor, and smoke rises from each gun as the rounds are fired in rapid succession.
Then silence.
I shove the earpiece back into position and watch as Jaxon and Owen blow the smoke from the gun.
And all the guards are dead.
“Showoffs,” I tell them, and they look toward the camera in the upper left-hand corner, point, and then give each other a high-five. “Heaven, Grayson, do you copy?”
“Yessir’. We’re here and ready to open this vault. I’m fucking hungry. I miss Ingrid, guys. Those cookies were so good,” Heaven whines.
We all missed that crazy old bat. It’s a shame what happened to her. Ingrid was never supposed to exist, but Jaxon crashed Quinn’s wedding and met Ingrid there. The old woman had nowhere to go, and Jaxon had a soft spot for the elderly. He’d never admit it out loud, but he did. When we would go out to eat, he’d always sit with a lonesome old man or woman, seeing how their day was going.
Anyway, Quinn hated Jaxon because she thought Jaxon killed his sister when the man she almost married did. It took some time for Quinn to warm up to Jaxon, and when Jaxon got his revenge, in the process, Ingrid and Louis died. Louis was Jaxon’s driver, butler, pretty much everything.
It was a hard hit on all of us, and even though Ingrid was unexpected, she left an impression; that was for sure.
We all have an axe to grind. Next in line to sharpen it was me, but we might have to put my need for revenge on hold since I can’t find my brother or Gabriella.
The monitor plays everyone’s movements like a movie, and the guys meet up in the next intersection of halls before finally getting to the vault. I check the blueprint, then the wall, then the blueprint again.
Something isn’t right.
The vault is bigger on the camera. According to this newest version of the blueprint, there is supposed to be another wall. Something doesn’t feel right. My feet stomp to the floor of the van as I wrap my hand around the mic. “Guys, get the fuck out of there. That doesn’t match the blueprint. Something’s up.” Panic sets in. I flip through the pages to see if I missed something, but I didn’t miss. I never missed. Nothing looks out of place. “Get out of there, guys.”
“Why? It just looks like a bigger vault. Maybe they replaced the smaller one with this one. It isn’t a big deal,” Grayson says.
The vault is big, triple the size of the other one, the one I have the dimensions of in my hand. I have a bad feeling about this. “Jaxon, listen to me; my gut is telling me that you guys need to haul ass. Not walk, not jog—fucking run. Get out. I’m not wrong about these things, man. We have plenty of money. We can sacrifice this.” Richard would run. He’d be on the move again when he caught on to what happened in his underground warehouse. We would find him. We always did.
“Okay, Sebastian. Guys, you heard the man.”
“We didn’t come all this way to give up. We’re here! We aren’t going anywhere.” Owen places his hands on the wheel of the large vault. It’s made of ten-ton steel, and the only way in is with a code that changes every fifteen seconds, which I have on the screen. Nothing could bring down this vault. Fire, bullets, TNT—it was everything-proof.
Including us too.
A timer comes up onto my screen. One minute.
“Owen, way to go. Your stupidity has set off a timer,” I hiss into the microphone and furiously start typing to figure out a way to block the timer. A timer is never good. Things usually go boom after the clock stops ticking.
“Timer? For what?” He gulps with fear.
“Fucking seventy virgins. What the hell do you think? God, you can never listen.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t think after all the shit we’ve been through, there’d another trap.”
Thirty seconds.
“Fuck, guys. Get out of there. I can’t stop the timer.”
“What do you mean you can’t stop it? You can stop anything!” Grayson yells at me, and Owen still has his hands on the vault.
“I can’t! Go. Get out!”
Twenty seconds.
Sweat beads across my brow, and my heart is pounding in my chest, a hammer against an iron nail. Bang. Bang. Bang. The salt burns my eyes as it drips in thick drops from my brows to my lashes. I wipe them off, my fingers flying over the keyboard, but regardless of my attempts, the timer continues ticking.
Fifteen seconds.
Owen let’s go of the vault wheel, and the timer stops. Heat recognition? Fuck, there is no way in hell we’re getting into the vault right now. I’d bet anything once that timer is activated, it never truly stops. The only way to see inside the vault is death.
“Get out,” I whisper.
The guys take a step away from the door, another and another.
The explosion cracks the pixels in the screen and the force shakes the foundation. The van rattles and the guys, fuck! They fly backward and hit the wall so hard, I know there’s was no fuckin way any of them survived it.
“Owen? Jaxon? Grayson? Heaven?” I call out their names one by one, but none of them respond. I press the heel of my palms against my eyes and shake my head in denial. No, this can’t be happening. They’re fine. They have to be. “Guys, stop fucking around and answer me!” I scream so hard my voice scratches, and spit flies against the microphone causing static. “Please,” I beg. “Fuck!” I roar.
Without my brothers, I am nothing. I have nothing.
Like a true king, fire blazing in the building and all, I open the van door and run inside to get my boys out. If I die trying, so be it; at least I’ll be with them on the other side. It won’t be heaven, but it won’t be hell.
Just the space in between.
Chapter Two
GABRIELLA
I have no idea how much time has passed. Weeks, months, years? They all started to blend when I was forced to be with a man such as Kendrick Knight. I was a fool when I was a young girl, eighteen, innocent in the mind and lovestruck in the eyes. When I saw him, I thought I had found my own true love.
Now looking back, whoever truly found their love at eighteen?
He was wealthy, a few years older than me, and had a smile that could have me sigh just like the love-drunk teenager I was from a mile away.
So we got married.
And that’s when everything changed.
It started out with him yelling, threatening that if I didn’t do simple chores around the house that I’d regret it. Then he shoved me.
Then he hit me.
And I had never been able to get away from his grasp.
Until I met his brother Sebastian, my savior, my reason for staying next to my abusive husband’s side. We never crossed a line, couldn’t; he was loyal to his brother, and I was too scared to even fathom, to have the audacity to test Kendrick like that.
Come to find out, it didn’t matter.
Kendrick thought I went behind his back, and maybe emotionally I did. Sebastian was kind, gentle, sweet, and always found a way to make me laugh.
Kendrick noticed.
Kendrick punished me.
One day, my husband—ex-husband—got sloppy with his abuse and hit me in the face. When Sebastian saw the bruise on my cheek and my busted lip, he nearly went insane with rage. I had to beg him not to go after Kendrick because I knew Kendrick would kill his own flesh and blood if he had the chance.
Sebastian became my best friend, the brother I should have married. He wasn’t going to allow me to stick around with Kendrick, and he forged as many documents as he could to give me an out. And he did.
I was free.
I had divorced and was living alone in Spain, just counting down the days until Sebastian was out of prison so we could be together. I lived in freedom
for four years, until Kendrick found me on the bridge that overlooked the Ebro River. Kendrick stood on one end of the bridge, and when I tried to run in the other direction, his guards stopped me.
Now I’m locked in a tower, kind of like that Disney Princess Rapunzel, only there isn’t any magic to free me. I am trapped, and that is exactly how Kendrick wants me. I don’t understand men like him. He wants to hold power over me, for me to fear him, and it worked. I do fear him, but I don’t understand what made him want to control me. Kendrick has no feelings for me, that much is clear, so why am I so important to him?
My hands grip the chain that’s attached to the cuff around my ankle, and I give it a good tug. The metal jingles, and tears prickle my eyes. I am Kendrick’s slave. I’ll live here. I’ll die here. The only thing I wish for is that I’ll get to see Sebastian again. The terror in his eye when I told him that I had to go back to Kendrick so Sebastian’s life would be saved is something that will haunt me for all eternity.
I’ll carry his handsome, tormented face to my grave.
I glance around the room, eying the stone tower. It would be beautiful if the looming atmosphere wasn’t so daunting. The architecture, while haunting, is magnificent. The detail isn’t something that could be replicated.
To my left, there is a large window—barred, of course, to keep me from dropping out of it. Like I could; I have a leash on my ankle. The chain has enough slack for me to move around the room, but not enough to walk out the door.
Across the room is a small desk, where Kendrick allows me to draw to help pass the time. I have a sewing machine as well and an iron to make sure Kendrick’s suits are pristine, and if there was one wrinkle, I’ll pay the price.
I stand from the twin-sized bed and place my bare feet on the floor. The stone is cold in the mornings, but I always welcomed the quick freeze. It helps me wake up and figure out a way to survive the day. The moment I stop feeling the cold is when I’ll die, no matter how much I want to live. I have to cling to hope that Sebastian will find me.
He will.
He has to.
I stretch my arms over my head and gather the long strands of my black hair, twisting it until it’s tight enough for me to make a bun at the top of my head. Sebastian always liked it when I wore my hair up. He never said why; I guess he didn’t want to cross that line with me, but I always wondered what he liked about it.
If I could turn back time, I would, and I’d fall in love with Sebastian instead. Life doesn’t have a reset button, but it does give second chances in some capacity. My second chance at happiness is Sebastian, and I plan to live long enough to experience it.
Footsteps come from the hallway, echoing from wall to wall just like a grandfather clock. Keys clink, and my heart pounds with extra ferocity as the realization that Kendrick is on the other side of that door struck. I fall to the bed and roll to my side, then I reached behind my head and pull my hair down. If he sees it up, he’ll know I’m awake.
I close my eyes, faking sleep when the door slams open and hits the wall.
His feet have a slight drag as he walks. The sole of his shoes scratch against the floor and dust, matching the nervous tick of my heart. The bed dips from his weight, and his hand brushes my hair away from my face.
His touch is calloused, and whatever tenderness the man hold in his heart is a lie.
“Wake up, my sweet.” His voice is higher than Sebastian’s. While Sebastian’s is deep as the rivers in Spain and raspy like a good shot of whiskey, Kendrick’s holds a nasally pitch to it. It is dreadful.
`I pretend that his touch eases me awake by rubbing across my jawline. I flutter my eyelids open and stretch, then rub my eyes for added effect. His beady brown eyes stare down at me, and I want to vomit. He is nowhere near as handsome as Sebastian. Sebastian has bright blue eyes, the color of the sea on a bright summer’s day, but they both have the same dark hair, the color of ink and evil.
Only Sebastian is far from evil.
“There she is,” Kendrick purrs, roaming his hand down my neck until it stops just above my breasts.
I plaster on a sleepy smile and yawn, fear clutching my throat as I worry that he is going to grope me.
“I was thinking,” he says, pursing his lips.
Oh, be careful, Kendrick. You might burst a blood vessel in your brain.
“Would you like to go for a walk today? Go outside and get some fresh air? We can have brunch on the balcony that overlooks the ocean. What do you think?”
I sit up quickly and grip his hand for dear life; this I am happy about. I haven’t been outside in ages. He must have had something good happen for him to be so kind. “I’d love that, Kendrick. Please,” I say a bit too eagerly, and his eyes hood as he stares at my lips.
“I love it when you beg, my sweet.” His eyes roam over my face, and he tucks my hair behind my ear, humming in a way that makes me think he appreciates what he sees. “I hate when I have to be rough with you. I don’t like where this relationship is going, Gabriella. I want to work on us, okay? I love you. I don’t want you in this room anymore. I want you with me.”
I’ve heard it all before. The ‘I’ll change’ speech. The ‘I love you’ speech. The ‘I swear I won’t hit you again’ speech. None of it matters because he is the kind of man who only speaks in lies.
If it means be getting out of this room, I’ll pretend to believe him.
“I love you too, Kendrick.” Oh, the lie is a bitter taste of poison on my tongue. Love, love! I hate him with every breath I take. I wish he’d die a miserable death, but if I want to live, I have to push that hatred to the side and swallow my need to see his eyes roll to the back of his head so I survive another day. “I would love to get out of this room and be with you. I promise, I’ll be what you need.” I know the song and dance. He needs a compliant woman, a woman who will agree with everything he says; a woman who never speaks up and voices her opinions.
I know how to do that.
He trained me, after all.
Kendrick leans down and presses his lips against mine. The only way I ever get through it is imagining he's Sebastian instead. I open my mouth and allow his tongue entry. I want to throw up when he groans down my throat. His lips are firm, a bit chapped, and rough. It makes sense. Dry and abrasive like the rest of him.
“Your lips are so soft. I’ve missed your kiss,” he says.
“I’ve missed yours too.”
He leans over the bed and grabs my foot, the one with the ankle cuff. He gasps when he realizes how raw and torn the flesh is. “My sweet, why didn’t you tell me?”
I want to roll my eyes. He doesn’t care about any pain I feel. I don’t understand why he’s acting so unlike himself today.
“Because I understand why I am here, Kendrick. I needed to learn my lesson.”
I see the shock and pride in his eyes when he realizes he broke me, just what he wanted. I’m not broken. I am smart.
“I think you have, my sweet. I think you have.” He unlocks the chain from my ankle and gives my foot a light massage. “I think I’ll also give you a bath today. I’m going to pamper you.” When he gets into this kind of mood, it reminds me of the time I fell in love with him all those years ago. I know the mood would be short-lived, but I need a break from his cruelty. I have to play the game to win, and one day I will.
“I would very much enjoy that. Would you bathe with me?” I flutter my eyelashes, knowing the answer.
“You little fox. I knew you missed me; I just didn’t think it was that much.”
Oh, if you only knew how much I want to drown you in dirty bath water.
“Of course, I am going to join you. Like I’d ever miss the chance to see your beautiful body on display.”
I feel a stab of guilt and betrayal toward my love for Sebastian. I’ve never kissed him, never did anything physical with him, but I feel like a cheater, even if my situation is desperate. Being what Kendrick wants affords me my life. I hope one day, Sebastian will forgive me
for doing what I have to do.
“Come, let’s get washed up and eat breakfast.” The monster holds out his viscous hand, and I slide my palm against his, readying myself to walk out the room for the first time in months. His eyes peek over to the desk, and the happiness flees from his eyes when he remembers one of the first objects I drew.
His brother.
It earned me weeks of recovery lying in bed, sore and aching, but I never stopped drawing Sebastian; I just hid the sketches where Kendrick wouldn’t think to look. He marches over to the desk and picks up the stack of paper, his anger brewing to the surface.
But I was smart. I ‘learned’ my lesson
I drew him instead.
“You drew me?” he asks, a bit stunned.
“I draw what I am passionate about,” I state, not telling him that every stroke of the pencil against paper was harsh with tears trickling down my face.
He lays the paper on the desk and saunters over to me, kissing my forehead. “I believe we will be okay, my sweet. We are true love.”
No.
We are the breeding grounds for hatred.
And I truly hate him.
Chapter Three
SEBASTIAN
Wreckage of crumbling, broken concrete has me tripping with every step. The thick curling black smoke burns the back of my throat. My eyes sting from being dried out from the flames licking the walls and floors. I lift my arm to block the smoke from my mouth and search the rumble for my friends.
“Jaxon!” I call out, waving the harsh cloud of soot away from my face to try to see two inches in front of me. “Grayson? Heaven!” Silence. Panic claws my throat when none of the guys answer. “Owen? Someone fucking answer me!” I roar, inhaling the fog created by flames instead of oxygen.
The vault stands epically untouched and shining. Unbelievable. The explosion must have come from the walls. They left that little note out of the blueprints. I couldn’t believe I didn’t find an anomaly like that.
Cruel Seduction: A Dark Romance (Underground Kings Book 2) Page 2
