Lachlan's Protégé

by V. F. Mason

  What the hell? What did she do? She’s never cried, always keeping her wide, bright smile intact.

  But before I can question her, a loud thump comes at the front door, but then it’s kicked open, and Pastor enters with his armed enforcers behind him.

  I also see people panicking outside, their voices becoming louder and louder, almost bordering on hysterical, but I can’t check it since the enforcers are blocking the view.

  “You fucking bitch,” he bellows, slapping her hard, and she lands on the floor from the blow.

  My eyes widen and I act on impulse, darting after him, but he does the same with me and my back hits the wall. I grunt in pain; it’s still sensitive from the last guest who liked to use a flogger on a daily basis.

  Anna runs to me, and I hug her close while Pastor looms over Aunt Jessica and practically spits the words. “You told that agent who always wanders along the borders, didn’t you? The fucking FBI is coming here now.” What? What’s FBI? We are constantly told strangers sometimes come to town to try to find someone on the borders to talk, and question us about our faith.

  But no one talks, because the punishment for betraying your own is death.

  That’s the most absolute law around here.

  She holds her cheek, although she looks at him with hatred, as she screams, “Yes, I did. What you are doing to these kids is disgusting and sick. I won’t allow anyone else to suffer.” She then shifts her gaze to me, her eyes filling with tears, and I hang my head in shame, because I never wanted her to know how dirty I am. “If only I knew….” Regret fills her voice, and I take a step toward her when he grabs her hard by the neck, bringing her up.

  “You ruined everything!” Without taking his eyes away from her, he orders, “Lachlan, pack your stuff. We are leaving now.” Then he addresses his men. “Is everything ready?”

  They nod, although he can’t see them. “The car will take you from the other end to the plane. But you have to go now. The fire has already started.” Fire? What fire?

  He lets go of Aunt, and Anna quickly runs to her. She picks her up in her arms, rocking her and murmuring, “Shh, sweetie, everything is going to be all right.”

  Pastor chuckles at that, and it sends shivers through me. “You think I’ll run away like a rat and you’ll get your happily ever after? Move, Lachlan.”

  “No,” I finally find my voice and stand near my family. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  That’s when another man glances inside, saying, “Sprayed it all over the house, and everything else is burning down, Pastor. You gotta leave. Cops are on the way too.”

  Pastor motions for me again. “Lachlan, don’t make it difficult.”

  I step in front of my family and shake my head, ready to fight for it. He always covers his ass. He will run away. “No.”

  “Very well.” Rage unlike anything I’ve seen before crosses his face, and he takes a gun in his hands while ordering, “Hold the boy.”

  “No!”

  But as always, the word no means nothing around here. They each grab my arms while Pastor points a gun to Aunt Jessica’s forehead, and says, “You are finally going to heaven, Jessica. Welcome it.” And he shoots her while I scream, “Noooo!” but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he quickly moves his gun to trembling Anna and fires again, and both of them fall down on the floor, dead.

  In an instant, gone, because he decided so.

  I pull at my hands and wrists until finally they let go, and I fall to my knees next to them. I run my hands over their warm, lifeless bodies and tears roll down my cheeks.

  I promised myself not to cry, but I do. Because they are forever gone.

  “You chose wrong, boy,” he informs me, and I cry out, picking up a nearby vase from the table and aiming it at him. He kicks me in the stomach and I land on my back, groaning in pain as the vase shatters around me, small pieces scratching me and barely missing my eyes. “You should have gone with me. Now you will burn in here.” With that, he leaves as the fire spreads around me, but all I can do is lie there next to my family and vow.

  Vow to someday take revenge on the man who destroyed everything I ever loved and had.

  New York, New York

  January 2018

  Valencia

  Wrapping my hands around the steaming mug, I inhale the smell of chamomile tea, hoping it can calm me down, although I’m not sure it’s possible after the truth that has been dropped on me.

  Lachlan dragged me outside, on the way barking something to the blue-haired guy while we passed his room, and the man just shrugged, even grinning widely as if it was no big deal.

  Well, I guess not everyone is scared of Lachlan.

  I was still in a haze and shocked from the information Lachlan revealed that I barely paid attention to anyone. He brought me to the kitchen and muttered something about cold and underground, and poured me tea.

  Pushing the mug back, I glare at him. His brows rise as he leans on the counter, crossing his arms, and that’s when Levi enters, his eyes moving from me to Lachlan and then back to me. “If you’re hungry—” he starts, but shuts up at my frown. What’s up with this guy? He always offers me food. Who can think about food in the current circumstances?

  “Do you know why I’m here?” I figure someone has to have answers for me, right?

  He blinks, glances at Lachlan, but I click my fingers to bring his attention back to me. “Well, do you?”

  He shakes his head, fidgets with his fingers, and shifts uncomfortably.

  What a lie. He knows I can read it in the accusing look he throws Lachlan’s way. But even if he doesn’t agree with his ways, why does he follow them?

  Might as well ask, I guess. “Lachlan is a serial killer. Why do you help him?” This time, he blinks rapidly, placing his hand on his chest, and his mouth drops. “I mean, I understand you feel sorry for me and all, but really. Are you guys related?”

  “That’s really complicated—”

  Complicated, my ass. “No, it’s not. You help him and think what he does is right. Why? Did he save you too? Why?” I push. As he swallows loudly under my pressure, I pour all my frustration on him, because isn’t he like sixty or more?

  Where is his compassion?

  “That’s enough. Valencia, watch your mouth when you talk to Levi.” The protectiveness in his voice surprises me, and with a nod, Levi exits the kitchen while I hear Lachlan’s knuckles crack in his palm. His blue orbs drill into me as something dangerous flashes in them. “Levi is family. You don’t get to put him in this situation. Understood?”

  “Rich coming from you, considering I didn’t see much respect from your side.”

  “You know nothing, Valencia, so I’d advise you to be careful.”

  I slap the table and get up, facing him. That’s all I do lately it seems. “Why does he help you?”

  “A man wronged him in the past. Long story short, he had a wife and two beautiful sons. And a ranch,” he says each word carefully, watching my reaction, but I have none for him. Is that supposed to mean something to me? A brief memory of visiting a ranch with Dad pops into my mind, but it’s quickly gone. Probably due to so many similarities. “A pastor promised him a better life.”

  “Pastor?” The P letter above the question mark.

  Pastor, as in my father? But I quickly shake away the thought. No, it can’t be him. Lachlan wouldn’t have waited this long for such revenge and probably would have inflicted the same pain on me.

  But maybe the pastor is one of the people who know me? “Uncle Aidan?” I whisper, praying it’s not true and sigh in relief as Lachlan shakes his head.

  “Doesn’t matter who right now, Valencia. Anyway, he lost two sons and a wife and basically his own life, because of him. And I was the only one who helped him, and he helped me. So Levi is off limits in your dramatics and hysterics.” We stare at one another for a moment, and then he clears his throat. “Want to go play soccer?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Since you
are in the mood to drill me even further, how about we just play ball while you do that? For every scored goal, you will get an answer to a question.” I open my mouth, but he presses his fingers against my lips, and the zap of electricity makes his eyes darker. I step back as he continues. “Just not the one you seek the most. It’s a good trade.”

  Crossing my arms, I ask, “Why such generosity all of a sudden?”

  “You are acting like a spoiled brat, and for what I want to do, I need you sane, so….” He arrogantly shrugs, and I can practically feel the smoke coming through my ears as fury zips through my body.

  What choice do I have but to agree though?

  I’m a puppet that he plays easily, but at the same time, any information is valuable. At this point, I have no hope of getting away from him, but I don’t intend to give up.

  He motions for me to follow him, and we go out through the kitchen door into the snow-covered grass. I see Chance chasing something and then plunging into the pile of snow, rubbing his back on it. “You have a nice dog.”

  “He likes you.”

  “At least his affection is honest.”

  He doesn’t react to my jab and reaches for the ball in a bin while pointing at two ends of the spacious grounds, which have two water fountains on each side. “Let these be the goals. If the ball gets near it, you score, and vise versa.”

  “Fine.” This is beyond stupid. If someone told me Lachlan would kidnap me, and then we would play soccer together, I’d laugh in their face.

  This guy can easily give me whiplash.

  He drops the ball on his foot and then pushes it up before it ends up on the snow. Then he kicks it hard, but I manage to block it and maneuver it to the side. He quickly snatches it from me and is about to run, when Chance gets to it first and darts to the other side with it, and the ball slides to the fountain on Lachlan’s side.

  “Goal!” I shout, and Chance hangs his tongue, clearly pleased with himself.

  “So it’s two against one, huh?” He whistles to the dog, and Chance brings it back, pushing it with his muzzle.

  “You don’t play fair, so why should I?”

  His lips pull into a grin and then he nods. “Very well. Ask your question.” He puts his foot on the ball, awaiting my words, and even though there are thousands in my head, I blurt the most unexpected one to me. “Do you hate faith? You always react weirdly when people mention the word heaven or… generally any faith word. You also never joined us at church when Victor invited you.” Then it dawns on me. “Pastor is not just a nickname, right? So were you…” It’s still hard to say out loud, so I decide not to. “Were you hurt by someone who was religious?”

  “No. I was hurt by a religious fanatic, by people who hid their darkness with faith.” A beat, and then he says, “I detest the word heaven for multiple reasons. None of them has to do with God.”

  “So you believe in God?” But how can that be?

  He chuckles, although it lacks any humor. “I believe in a higher power, yes. What I don’t believe in are people who justify everything they do with faith, claiming it’s the only right way.”

  “People who truly have faith come from the place of love, not hate,” I say, because as much as I felt guilt over my dad, that’s not the only reason I held on to my faith. I truly believe in those things.

  “Right. And a place of love allows freedom to live as one wishes. The idea of how people lock themselves into their beliefs doesn’t sit well with me, and then they preach to everyone and their mother what they think is the right way. Churches, praying, hoping have no meaning to me. But I do believe in God.” In other words, he accepts that there are things he can’t explain, but at the same time, he finds it useless to follow the rules.

  He kicks the ball again, so we start fighting for the ball. I thank Bella for her freaking love for soccer, as she dragged me to her practices, so I know a few tricks and turns.

  The ball ends up on my goal and I raise my brows. “I suppose we continue playing? You already know everything about me.” The huge-ass board on his wall proves it.

  “Do you regret sleeping with me?”

  I blink in surprise at this, facing him as frigid air hits me in the face, but I don’t notice it through the burn spreading over my skin, remembering all our times together.

  I used to think they were the most passionate nights of my life, as he gave me things no one did—or rather, I never allowed anyone to give to me.

  Regret.

  Do I? After knowing the truth? Try as I might, I can’t will the emotion to come and settle in my heart. Or strong hate.

  It’s awful what he is and what he does. But he is the product of vile people taking advantage of kids. He says it was his choice to be bad, and it’s true.

  But at the same time, it doesn’t change the fact that no one taught him how to be good either. As weird as it is, he doesn’t strike me as a man who loathes everyone and everything. Rather as a man who knows what he wants and what he despises, and he doesn’t seek redemption for his actions.

  Hating him in light of his past is almost impossible, but even without those things, I wouldn’t have regretted being with him.

  Weak and pathetic probably, I don’t hide from this knowledge, but accept it.

  So I reply, “No.”

  He tenses, his knuckles becoming white as he squeezes his hand, but then he whistles again and Chance is fetching the ball. He brings it to me, and I pat him on the back while he nuzzles into my touch. “Don’t spoil him,” Lachlan orders, although there isn’t much command present in the voice.

  “Simple kindness can do that?”

  He kicks the ball again, but this time I decide on a full attack and manage to kick it far enough to reach the fountain before he even gets closer. “Score!” I cry out, and then point my finger at him. “Pay up.” He crosses his arms, lifting his chin, and I add, “Do you have any family?”

  His face completely closes off, but not before agony shadows it as he masks it under indifference. “No. Everyone is dead.”

  My heart pangs painfully in my chest; everything in me longs to soothe him, because it’s such a tragedy to be completely alone. Losing my dad was devastating, but I can’t imagine not having Mom or Victor or Braden. “I’m so sorry.”

  He returns his attention to the ball and we play for a few minutes, my legs aching from so much exercise in the last twenty-four hours, when finally Chance scores another goal for me. “Your protégés. Do they lead normal lives? Are they your best friends?”

  “That’s technically two questions.”

  “Second one is the extension of the first one.”

  “No, they are not my friends. Most of them are assigned to Arson, like I said, and he teaches them at another place. I personally pick a few to show my technique, but that’s it. The original seven that you’ve seen, I trust them. But I can’t call them my friends.”

  Well, he might as well have told me he loved them. I imagine trust is a big thing for a man like him. In a world where so many people probably have failed him, it takes a tremendous amount of loyalty for people to prove their trust.

  “As to a normal life, it’s all in the eye of the beholder. Sociopath and Shon do have women. Although they fucked up, the situations they got themselves and their women into were hilarious.”

  “Like you did with me?” I cover my mouth with a gasp, because isn’t it admitting out loud that I’m his despite all this mess?

  His blue eyes drill into me as he agrees. “Yes, like I did and will do with you. Although there will be nothing hilarious about it.”

  I wish he’d stop warning and just get on with his plan, instead of having this imaginary ax looming over my head.

  He continues though. “I had only one best friend, Logan. We lived the nightmare together. He chose a different path. He blocked out our past. Became a legendary rock star.” He smiles, although I detect traces of worry in it. “But I guess, all things considered, he didn’t manage to escape from it as m
uch as he wanted.”

  Logan the rock star. As in… “You’re not talking about Logan Davis are you?” He nods and my eyes widen, because holy shit.

  His story is tragic anyway, but adding this truth… no wonder he fell from grace.

  He lightly touches me on the arm, tracing the goose bumps on my skin. “You’re getting cold. One more goal and we are done.” He aims for the ball again, but I try to get it first. Then he tackles me and I lose my balance, dropping to the snow, but since my legs are tangled with his, he follows. We both stay silent for a moment, and then a bubble of laughter erupts from me as I look up at the bright sunlight.

  For a brief moment, the monster and the angel have made a truce, and he shared his secrets with me, but unfortunately the secrets accomplished only one thing.

  I can’t hate him anymore.

  And this will be my ultimate downfall.

  Lachlan

  She is so beautiful, like a fairy lying spread under me on the snow while mischief plays in her eyes. Her face lights up from her laughter while Chance looms over us, creating a peaceful picture of a couple enjoying themselves on a snowy day.

  It’s almost perfect.

  Except it’s a lie.

  I roll to the side, getting up as she sits in the snow. Chance plops on her legs as she pats him lightly while the familiar look of dreams shadows her eyes. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we’d met under different circumstances?” she asks, hiding her gaze from me as I dust my knees.

  Wondering about what-ifs has no point; this is the conclusion I’ve come to through my entire life. It doesn’t help you, only sends you deeper into a spiral of regret and wanting impossible things.

  Love is an emotion that only few of us can experience, those who are not damaged by their past or drowned in dirt. It’s not so much about the pain that envelops us, but by the choices we make.

  Marcus Aurelius once said, “The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.”