by V. F. Mason
We might be dogs to them, but we are the most beloved dogs of his boss, so he should protect us really well. Which plays to our advantage, because among the chaos, we might find a chance to slip away, especially with our cuffs out of the way.
Roccko speaks into the mic on his jacket. “All guards by the gate, come inside. Edward is trapped in his wing.”
Someone on the radio replies, “On it.”
I do a double take when Roccko does something unexpected.
He gives me the keys, ordering, “The car is right by the gate. It’s open right now, because the guy brought the gunpowder supply. You need to run as fast as you can. Do you understand me?” Our jaws drop open, shocked to our core.
The meanest motherfucker of them all decided to help us?
“Now you,” he addresses Artem, “take this.” He gives him a big-ass knife and then gives Callum the gun. So I’m the only one left without a weapon despite my skills. What a fucking joke! We shouldn’t have dropped our other ones. “And you, I know your hands are uncuffed, so you can loosen them.”
We drop the chains while lurking behind the wall as chaos erupts around us. “I’ll lead you to the main door, and then you will shoot at me.”
“What?” Callum exclaims, clearly too scared to kill anyone.
Roccko ignores his words. “Afterward, you will run to the gate, which will be empty. You will have a maximum of two minutes before they all catch up. It’s the only chance I can give you,” he says to Jonathan’s dead body. “After slipping the pill into this asshole’s drink, that is.”
“Why?” Artem asks the question that’s probably on all our minds, and Roccko gives us a sad smile.
“I can no longer work undercover for that shit, and they don’t want to jeopardize their chances.”
Oh, so he’s an agent?
Father couldn’t even find me with an agent working undercover and who saw me on a daily basis so he could have recognized my face from a missing kids database?
Fuck, why does it hurt?
The footsteps thumping on the floor indicate we have no more time for explanations or my wallowing in self-pity, and he motions for us to go after him. We move rapidly through the hall, where all the guards are running in different directions. The smell of smoke is strong from the fire erupting in the other wings.
Roccko barks, “Now.”
Callum’s hands are shaking so hard he can’t pull the trigger, so with a muttered curse, I stand next to him, wrapping my hands above Callum’s to steady him. We participate in this together, so if he ever has nightmares about it in the future, he can soothe them with the knowledge he hasn’t done it alone, and we both fire at Roccko’s chest.
He groans loudly and then rasps, “Go, go, go.”
The guards are already shouting, “Roccko has been shot!”
Despite all the mistreatment and malnourishment, we run with all our might to the gate, my bare feet burning on the concrete while the harsh sunlight blinds us, since we’ve been inside the basement for so long.
We run like thousands of dogs are chasing us, because this is our only shot at survival. We can focus on the pain and labored breathing later.
We spot the car, and I shout, “I’ll get behind the wheel!”
Callum shakes his head in disbelief. “None of us know how to drive.”
So fucking what? Nothing can stop me now. I won’t let some small bump in the road ruin this gift the universe has granted me.
I snap my fingers, fumbling with the keys. “I’ll handle it.”
He opens his mouth to argue when he notices Artem is frozen, blinking at the gunpowder in the open van. Also, there is a stash of lighters and cigarettes, and since the fucker enjoyed smoking, it’s probably another delivery.
“Artem,” Callum calls, while I get in the vehicle and study various buttons, wracking my mind that pops different memories in my head. I vaguely remember how George once sat me on his lap while we waited for my parents to finish work, and we played a game where I was the driver.
Think, Santiago, think! What was it that he said?
From the corner of my eye I notice Callum extending his hand to Artem who is shorter than us, probably younger too, so he can safely hop inside the van.
Only the dude has other plans as Artem runs his fingers over the products, almost caressing the things, mesmerized by the sight it seems, and Callum frowns.
“What the hell are you doing, Artem?” he hisses, while I play with the keys in the car, trying to start it yet failing. What else should I do while starting a car? There was something else right?
“Hop inside!” Artem ignores Callum’s words though and instead snatches the gunpowder and lighters, rushing right back inside the gate. He starts to dig his knife into a tree, as if wanting to cut off a branch.
“For fuck’s sake, what is he doing?” Callum’s question floats in the air as I twist the car key again and mutter, “Mierda,” when nothing happens, but then a bulb flashes in my mind and I press the pedal. Finally, the engine roars to life, and I exclaim, “Gracias, Dios!”
“You don’t even know how to drive this thing!” Callum shouts, and I send him a smirk.
“How hard can it be? The car is on, and I just need to drive fast enough to get us out of here, and that’s it.” I point to my legs with far more confidence than I feel. “Here is the speed pedal and stop pedal. No worries, I won’t get us killed,” I assure him, and his jaw almost drops to the floor.
“No, you’re right, you won’t. Because Artem will fucking kill us before you!” Callum finally loses his shit, grabs the gun, and hops down, running toward him while saying over his shoulder, “Be ready to go any minute. Don’t move your ass.”
I give him a thumbs-up. It’s fucking hilarious seeing him go all captain on our asses, since he always keeps his mouth shut. Spotting a baseball cap lying on the seat next to me, I put it on and catch my reflection in the rearview mirror.
My lips are chapped, several fresh scratches are on my cheeks, and my entire face is smeared with dirt, since the latest client pushed my face onto the floor covered in ashes.
Disgusting, disgusting reflection, but it doesn’t matter.
Only survival.
Turning my attention back to the guys, I see several guards racing out of the flaming house, firing bullets at them, but Artem continues to chop on the wood. What the fuck does he plan to do with it anyway? “We need to leave now!” Callum screams at him as he fires at the guards, but his aim is shit and he ends up not hitting any of them. “Artem!”
Finally, Artem picks up what he took from the van, and spreads the gun powder we found in a line and then lights up the branch, dropping it. Instantly, flames flash around us, spreading through the gun powder and grass, leading right to the house.
He managed to do all this in such a short time?
And they call me a psycho. “Bravo, amigo,” I whisper, satisfaction filling every pore at the idea that these men will be trapped in a hell of our creation.
The guards stop abruptly while Artem runs to the other side and repeats his actions, making it impossible for anyone to run away.
The fire reaches the guards now, and even though some of them manage to escape, I see two of them go up in flames, while Artem watches, completely still and mesmerized.
However, as enjoyable as this magnificent sight is, we have no time to spare anymore, so unfortunately, Artem’s nirvana has to end.
Their cries fill the garden, and then I whistle, motioning to Callum to hit Artem and bring him.
Callum grabs Artem’s arm, snapping him out of his trance, and drags him out of the gate as he orders, “We are leaving. Fucking come on!” All the way to the vehicle, Artem continues to watch the fire, barely moving, making Callum use all his strength judging by his heavy panting.
They get inside, and I press on the speed pedal, the car moving so fast the breeze from the open windows slaps us on the cheeks while Artem gazes back at his creation.
Lifting
my face toward the harsh wind and fresh air filling my lungs, I inhale deeply before cheering. “This is freedom.”
I survived.
The victory tastes bitter on my tongue, as I won't truly rest until everyone rots in hell where the devil can feast on their flesh, destroying their souls and bodies till they beg for mercy.
But even then, no one grants it to them.
They've made me a monster incapable of any human emotion.
They killed my spirt and soul, forever smearing me in blood and agony that will be glued to me like a second skin.
Life is cruel.
And I’m going to show all these fuckers just how much.
Briseis
“Would you like anything else, Mrs. Cortez?” Lenora snorts, and I kick her lightly under the table, so she ends up choking on her drink.
Ever since we arrived, I’ve been called Mrs. Cortez so many times I’ve lost count. It seems everyone tries to go out of their way to introduce themselves to me or indicate to me they know who I am.
At first, I hardly noticed it, because I was too busy studying the club with my mouth dropped open—from the colorful design to the sophisticated and expansive interior.
The way everything around here screams success and power, how the staff move flawlessly, and the people enjoy their life to the fullest almost made me think I was in a different world when I stepped inside.
A world where pleasure and desire ruled.
A loud moan comes from the booth next to us where I see a woman sitting with two men, who apparently know how to get her off, judging by how she’s been groaning and moaning for the last twenty minutes.
The server, Emma, blushes and offers, “Would you like to change booths? Santiago has one on the second floor. It’s private, and no one’s going to bother you there.”
Lenora arrived shortly after us and hugged so tight I thought she’d break my ribs before scolding me seven ways to Sunday, and she only managed to calm down when the club itself diverted her attention.
She forgave me quite quickly after that.
Sam offered us Santiago’s booth, but we all refused, because we wanted to feel the atmosphere of the club in full force.
However, judging by how people grind on each other on the dance floor and the sounds coming from another booth, the first floor is filled with people ready to have sex wherever, and I’m not sure I need the visuals right now. Or ever. “We might. We’ll let you know once Jimena is back.”
Emma nods and walks off, already running to the newly arrived customers.
Lenora pushes her empty drink away and rests her chin on her entwined hands as she puts her elbows on the table. “Since your sister-in-law is in the bathroom right now, tell me the truth.”
Oh crap. I should have expected something behind her cheerful personality the last hour without asking any questions. I should have known she’d ask them the minute Jimena left us alone. “What truth?”
Her eyes meet mine, holding my gaze and not allowing me to look away, because she probably needs to see my emotions. “Are you in love with Santiago and married him because you wanted to?” She raises her hand in a stop sign and adds, “Rumors about them and their deeds have been notorious. So I find it suspicious that on the day the whole fam was slaughtered, he married you.” She shrugs. “Sounds insane, but I have to make sure.”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat and taking a deep breath, because honestly, how does one lie to a person who knows you so well she’ll probably smell my bullshit a mile away? However, lying is the best solution until I figure out what’s really going on around me and in my marriage.
I did some thinking while waiting on Jimena to get ready and came to several conclusions.
Something horrible happened to Santiago a long time ago, something so devastating he still holds a grudge against his father for it, and the marriage proposal coming out of nowhere… raises the question of why me.
He might want me obsessively, but his interest in me started way before he saw me. His suddenly coming to a dinner party Grandmother hosted wasn't a coincidence, and then ignoring Addison and Ava?
Yes, he came that night to see and form a connection with me.
The library encounter and the wedding ceremony that followed?
Santiago acts as if our time is ticking and everything might turn on its axis any minute.
Which probably wouldn't be this strange if one thinks he is a serial killer obsessing over a woman who refuses him, except…
Did I refuse him?
I succumbed to our desire and gave my body to him back before his darkness came up, so no matter how naïve I might seem, I know this marriage has nothing to do with me and everything with something else.
His past.
Only a monster’s past has the power to shake his life’s foundation so much he makes some unusual decisions.
If his timer wasn't ticking, he would have never revealed what truly hides behind the perfect and reckless image that’s Santiago Cortez.
I need to find out what really happened all those years ago, and it will be the key to all the angst gnawing at me.
I’m powerless to stop my attraction to him, my body forever responding to his, and maybe… just maybe if his explanation is good enough, I might close my eyes to all his deeds and live this life as his wife.
His father’s obsession didn't waver over the years, so why would his?
Crazy how I’m ready to tie myself to a psycho, but that’s my ugly truth, and I have to own it.
Playing the push and pull game exhausts me.
Maybe if I hadn’t crushed on him for years from a distance, I wouldn't have acted this way or even welcomed his touch.
Or more likely, if I had known normal human affection and love, I wouldn't have been starved for it so much and been so ready to accept it from him and his crazy family who thinks blackmailing someone into a marriage is a great idea.
Somewhere out there, a psychologist probably shakes his or her head at my thoughts.
Lenora nudges me a little with her foot, and I come back to the subject at hand, while she prompts, “Well?”
“Yes, I’m in love with him. You know all the stories about his father going crazy over his mother, right?” She nods. “We met once in Greece and spoke on the phone a lot after that.” She drops her hands on the table in surprise at my quick bullshit. “He proposed, so I decided to live in the moment. Why wait? Life is too short.”
Lenora silently roams her orbs over me, digesting this information while I’m sweating bullets. Finally, a huge smile spreads on her face. “Oh my God. It’s true. I’m so happy, and we must drink to that.” She wraps her hand around her glass and lifts it up. “To the bride and… oh crap, I forgot it’s empty.” She waves to a passing server, but no one pays attention to her, mostly because our booth is secluded in the corner, and we barely have any light here. Which works splendidly for the woman who is about to have her first orgasm. “I can’t even drink to my best friend finding her man.”
Tapping on the table, I show her a button on it. “You’re supposed to click here instead of waving.”
Lenora gets up instead and adjusts her flowery dress, winking at me. “I think I’m going to the bar myself. Be back soon.”
“Sure,” I absently reply, glancing toward the bathroom hallway, and frown, still not spotting Jimena anywhere in sight.
She’s been in there what, around fifteen minutes now? Shouldn't she be out by this point?
Putting my glass on the table, I jump up and go to the bathroom, wanting to make sure she’s all right, because she was feeling off on the ride here.
Navigating my way through the various bodies on the dance floor pressing against each other, I see several hands slipping inside pants or dresses, where they wouldn't be in more decent places. I speed up a little and finally end up in the narrow, black hallway leading to the glossy bathroom doors that show my reflection.
When I’m just about to walk through, I hear two
voices coming from my right and take a few steps back, noticing another hallway leading to the elevator door, and judging by how no one wanders around here, this must be the area leading to “the guy’s space” Sam mentioned earlier.
“I need to talk to you.” I recognize Jimena’s voice now, tiptoe even closer, and lean on one of the columns, peeking subtly so they don’t notice me. I see Jimena and Florian to my shock, since Sam told us the dark four were not planning to come here tonight.
Spying on them is wrong on so many levels, but I don't want to interrupt whatever is going on right now and put us all in an awkward situation. I can’t go back now without them hearing me; my heels would click loudly, as the music in the club has temporarily stopped.
Florian presses the elevator button. Coldness coats his voice when he replies to her, sending discomfort through me, and I wonder how Jimena doesn’t step back. “Too bad. My plans for tonight don’t include you.”
She rubs her arms, wincing a little as if it physically pains her to hear him say that, but straightens her back nevertheless, while pressing, “It’s important, Florian. The night we spent together months ago—”
He doesn't let her finish, interrupting her right away. “Means nothing to me.” Jimena pales a little, and I shake my head in disbelief at his cruelty, while anger sparks inside me, my fists itching to punch Florian so he can choke on his words.
He sleeps with his best friend’s sister and then tells her it meant nothing? I always knew he was a whore, but at least I thought he was a decent whore, not an asshole.
“I know. You made that absolutely clear.” She twists her hands together and continues to talk, although by how her chest rises and falls, I know it costs her a big effort. “There is something you should know.”
His icy chuckle echoes off the walls, and he tangles his fingers in his hair, before spitting out, “I’ve never had someone cling to me so much after sex.” Jimena freezes, and he tips her chin up so their eyes meet while he leans closer. “No one is attracted to desperate, and you, darling, reek of it.” He glances at the platinum watch on his wrist and announces, “I have a threesome to go to. Unless you don’t mind joining me? You can stay and watch if you want.” He taps on her nose. “Might learn a thing or two.”
