Shattered King

by Sherilee Gray

  I lifted my eyes from the table and froze solid. My mouth opened, preparing to let out a scream, but fear squeezed my vocal cords so tight nothing came out.

  “Looking for this?” Pierce held up my son’s book, cold eyes locked on mine. His lips curled up on one side. “You didn’t tell me I was a grandfather.” He flipped the front cover back, to where I had written in it for my son’s birthday. “Josh?”

  “Don’t!” The word exploded past my lips, my voice unrecognizable to my own ears. “Don’t you say his name. He’s nothing to you.”

  “Are you certain about that?” He kept coming, but I had nowhere to go.

  I backed up until I hit the wall. “Stay the hell away from me.” I was sinking. My legs felt like I had led weights strapped to them, that old paralyzing fear reaching up inside me and grabbing me by the throat.

  He made a tutting sound. “Come now. Don’t be like that.” He dropped the book on the table and started twisting the heavy gold and sapphire wedding ring he wore, something he always did when he was scheming. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “Stay back.” I shook my head. “Don’t touch me.”

  He moved fast. He’d always been fast, like a snake, striking when you least expected it. He was strong, too, stronger than me. He’d always kept himself fit, loved nothing more than showing me how helpless I was, that he could do whatever he wanted to me and I couldn’t do anything about it.

  He did that now, grabbing me when I tried to run, easily wrestling me into a chair. He grabbed a length of rope sitting on the table that I hadn’t even noticed, and secured my hands behind my back, strapping me to the chair.

  I sucked in a strangled breath when cool fingers slid my hair away from my neck, brushing my skin. I went from frozen to granite. My body locked up completely at the feel of his hands on me.

  “I’ve missed you, Lucinda.” That voice, smooth as silk, slithered down my spine.

  Pierce’s fingers curled around the back of my neck, squeezing gently, and I couldn’t speak.

  “We have a little business, you and I, and then we can work on getting reacquainted. It’s been too long, sweets.”

  I tried to open my mouth, to tell him to go to hell, but my jaw felt wired shut. Every muscle in my body refused to work. His hand on me had the same effect as a gag, as chains. I needed to snap the hell out of it. Now.

  I forced words past my now dry lips. “Please, just let me go.” I sounded pitiful, weak, and I hated it.

  He moved around the chair but kept his hand on me, sliding it to the front of my throat as he went, thumb grazing my jaw. He leaned down so our eyes were level, so I could feel his breath on my cheek. “Are you afraid, Lucinda?”

  If I said no, I knew he’d make sure before this was over that my answer would be yes. So I gave him the truth, even though it killed me. “Yes,” I whispered.

  He took a step back, releasing me, and I drew in a sharp almost painful breath.

  “You have reason to fear me. Very good reason.” He plastered a sad smile on his face. “It hurts me that out relationship has come to this. Your mother would be heart broken.”

  “Don’t . . .” An anguished sound burst from me. “Don’t talk about her, don’t you dare . . .”

  He gripped my chin, tight, cutting me off without effort. “She loved art, didn’t she? She got a lot of pleasure from those paintings her mother left her, especially the Vinciago. You know the one I mean, yes?”

  What? I struggled to process what he was saying. Right then all I could hear was him talking about my mom like she was already gone.

  “Answer me,” he barked. “The painting, Lucinda. Tell me what you know about that painting.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say . . .”

  “Where the fuck is it?”

  “I have no idea.” Why was he asking me this? What the hell was going on?

  He back-handed me, hard. My face whipped to the side, body slamming back into the chair, blood filling my mouth. My head dropped forward, hair covering my face. I bit back a helpless sob.

  “Let’s try this again, shall we?” He gripped my hair and wrenched my head back so he could see my face. “You think I’m dumb, fucking stupid? It vanished when you did.” He slid a hand inside his jacket and brought out a piece of paper, gaze going over my shoulder to whoever was standing by the door. Derek. I assumed. “You’re going to write down where you hid it. Crystal clear directions.” His smile turned hard. “All you have to do to keep your son safe is give me the information I want. Now.”

  At the mention of Josh, I started struggling, a sound I’d never heard before coming from the back of my throat. It was animalistic, frantic.

  He leaned forward. “He must still be so small, Lucinda. They’re so fragile at that age, aren’t they?”

  I tugged at the rope at my back. It dug in, but I didn’t care. I had to get out of here. I had to get to my son. “Don’t you go near him . . . don’t . . .” A cry broke free. “Just, please. Don’t hurt him. He’s just a little boy.”

  He lifted the paper in his hand. “Give me what I want, then.”

  I didn’t know where the goddamn painting was. No idea. I’d barely noticed it when I’d lived at home. Yes, my mother loved it, but that’s all I knew. I wasn’t stupid enough to tell him that, though. He wasn’t going to believe me, that much was clear. I needed him gone, maybe if I gave him an address he’d leave long enough for me to try and get free, get help. “Fine.”

  “I knew you’d see it my way.”

  He came forward. He undid the rope, releasing my right hand, then pulled a pen from his pocket and laid the piece of paper on my knees. It was obvious he didn’t trust Derek; why else would he have me write it down and not just tell him? Maybe there was a way of using that to my advantage. But right then, I couldn’t think of a single thing.

  I did it quickly, with that bastard breathing down my neck. Some random address, still in the city, because I knew he wouldn’t buy it if I said I’d left it in Lawrence. Not when he assumed I’d stolen it for its value, which was the only reason he’d want it. I could guess that much. But I’d also sent him far enough away that I’d have a little time to try and . . . and . . . do what? Shit. I had no freaking idea. I just knew I had to get away from here, away from these men any way I could.

  When I finished, he stared down at it. I held my breath, waiting for him to call me out, but he didn’t. He folded it up, slid it in his inside jacket pocket, and smiled down at me. “Now that was painless, wasn’t it?”

  “Please, just let me go now.”

  He chuckled, shook his head. “Unfortunately for you, this next bit might not be as pain free.” He looked at the person behind me again. “Leave us.” Oh God.

  No. Not this. Anything but this.

  I heard the door click shut, and I started to struggle again. Please no. Please no.

  “You’ve grown even more beautiful,” he said, in way that made my skin crawl. He’d dropped the superior tone to one I was all too familiar with. The lust, the awe, the goddamn insanity clear in his voice and in his eyes as he stared down at me. I knew what came next. I also knew my mind wouldn’t remain intact if it did. I couldn’t pick up the pieces again and carry on with my life like it never happened. But if I got out of this alive, not whole, but alive, I knew I could fake it. Fake living. I could do that for Josh. I would do anything for him.

  He moved around me, slowly, and I imagined the way he would have looked if Hunter had gotten his hands on him. In a sick way, it gave me strength. I had to swallow down a sudden inappropriate bubble of insane laughter. As fucked up as it was, it comforted me, imagining Hunter beating the shit out of him.

  “I think I want you free for this. Are you gonna put up a fight, Lucinda? I hope so,” he said as he undid the rope at my back.

  I wrapped my fingers around his pen. Yes, I’m going to fight. He’d been too excited, too anxious to get his hands on the painting, and hadn’t noticed me tucking it un
der my thigh. I didn’t answer, just stared him in the eye, showing him how much I fucking hated his guts. Which wasn’t a very clever thing to do, but right then, I couldn’t conceal it.

  He dragged me to my feet, and without missing a beat, flung me across the room. My body hit the wall with a loud thud, knocking the wind from my lungs. I hit the floor, but immediately tried to struggle to my feet. I wasn’t quick enough. Pierce advanced. I’d gotten to my knees by the time he reached me. When his fist connected with my face, I went down again, hard, my head smashing against the hardwood floor. I covered my head with my arms as he hit me again and again, blow after blow slamming into me. I couldn’t escape it.

  Suddenly, he stopped. He was breathing heavily and I could feel him looming over me. The room seemed to spin. I couldn’t pinpoint where I hurt the most because I hurt everywhere.

  He got down, in my face, and hissed, “I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to love every minute of it.”

  I whimpered as blood filled my mouth. My head and side throbbed, but I hadn’t let go of the pen. I gripped it for all I was worth. It was one of those fancy stainless steel ones, with the fine point, and I had my fingers around it so tight I was close to cramping up. His chin dipped, gaze going to my waist. He started tugging at the front of my tights, working them down my thighs.

  The way he held me, I couldn’t move my arms. I grunted and thrashed. “No, no . . . no.”

  It was no good. I couldn’t get my shot, and he had my tights and underwear off in seconds. He forced my legs open. I felt him fumbling with his trousers.

  “I don’t like hurting you, Lucinda, you know that. This is your fault.” His voice shook. “You shouldn’t have run from me, you shouldn’t have left me.” The head of his penis slid across my inner thigh.

  Whatever happened next, I would survive this, no matter what it took, I would see my son again. I turned my head, spitting out blood so I could talk. “Pierce?” It came out garbled, but he heard. His gaze lifted back to mine and that’s when I screamed. In fear, in anger, from a primal place deep inside me.

  He slapped a hand over my mouth, the other lifting to my throat.

  My arms were suddenly free. I didn’t hesitate. I acted. I grabbed his hair, fisting it with my left han,d and brought up the pen with my right. I swung wildly and, in one movement, slammed it into his face, as hard as I could. It lodged into his cheek nice and deep.

  He fell back with a roar, rolling on the ground. His phone fell from his pocket and skidded across the floor.

  I scrambled to my feet, snatched it up, and ran to the door. Besides Pierce yelling, it was silent. No Derek pounding up the hall to see what was happening.

  I ran as fast as I could. I could barely see though my swollen eyes as I took the steps to the backyard. It was pitch dark now. Pierce had quieted down. I could hear his thumping footsteps on my aunt’s hardwood floors.

  Oh God.

  I ran to the fence and prayed there was still loose boards there, the ones I’d used to go through to the park behind her house. I yanked at the boards and they slid aside, like they always used to. Pierce was right behind me, calling my name, screaming at me to stop. I took a risk and, instead of trying to outrun him, which I knew I couldn’t do in my condition, I headed for the play area, deeper into the shadows, and crouched down. I heard the sound of his feet hitting the ground when he came over the fence. I couldn’t see him, but he was swearing and groaning.

  Then I couldn’t hear anything anymore. Everything was silent, except for the distant noise of traffic. I didn’t think I could make it to the road, and I didn’t want to move from my spot and risk Pierce finding me. He was in the park somewhere, searching for me. I knew that much.

  I was afraid to use his phone, in case he was nearby and saw the glowing screen. So, I waited, I don’t know how long, maybe an hour, maybe two. I was pretty sure I was in and out of consciousness.

  I tried to stand, but my aching body wouldn’t let me do anything more than crawl. I dragged myself under the fort and dialed Aunt Sara’s phone, the only number I had memorized. She answered after a few rings. I could hear Josh in the background crying. A sob broke past my swollen lips.

  “I need help.” I couldn’t say more—every bit of strength I had drained from my body with those words. The phone slipped from my hand and I collapsed, curling myself up as small as I could.

  I was cold, so cold.

  Then everything went dark.

  Hunter

  I shoved my hands though my hair. Where the hell was she? Lulu’s aunt had called the office over an hour ago, hysterical. Van took the call. Lulu was in trouble. Sara confirmed that Lulu didn’t get on with Pierce, that he was the reason she ran, the reason she’d stayed away.

  Then Sara fucking begged us to save her.

  I felt like something was tearing at my insides, my mind scrabbling to put all the pieces together. What the fuck had I missed? Going by the state of Sara’s house, the overturned furniture, the fucking blood, the obvious signs that Lulu had been fighting for her life, I’d missed a whole hell of a lot. Pierce was behind this. Who else could it be? After the way she’d freaked out earlier? She’d been scared out of her mind when she thought I was going to hand her over to her stepfather. She’d tried to pretend it was me she wanted to get away from, and I’d been too blinded by my own anger to see through her lie. My head thudded back against the back wall of Sara’s house. I hit it again for good measure, like I could knock some sense into my thick skull, like the answers would magically come to me. But they wouldn’t. I couldn’t think about any of that now, not if I wanted to find her, not if I wanted to keep my shit together. Right then, I was hanging on by my fucking fingernails. This close to losing my goddamn mind.

  Lulu was hurt, alone, and scared as hell.

  I spun and punched the wall, pent-up emotion exploding out of me. Fuck. We had every one of our men on it, combing the street searching for her. So far nothing. A street light flickered beyond the back fence. It was a single bulb, lighting up a single sign: “Jacobson’s Park.”

  I started across the yard, toward the fence. There were a couple of boards loose. I tested them and they slid to the side easily, making a big enough space for someone to crawl through. It was a tight squeeze, but I got through. There were a lot of places to hide back here. I moved quicker, broke into a jog. Some of the guys were already scouring the trees lining the park, but I went right by them, to the playground area itself. It was dark, near impossible to see a damn thing.

  A flashlight from one of our guys searching not far from me slashed across the ground by the fort. It was only a split second, but it caught on something. Something light colored. “I need a flashlight!”

  Jude appeared at my side a few seconds later, lighting the way.

  I saw her pale hand first, then all that fucking beautiful red hair lying in the mud. I couldn’t see her face. She’d tucked herself in a tight ball, her body concealed under the small fort. Seeing her like that, fuck, it felt like someone had nailed me in the back of the knee with a sledgehammer. I went down hard in front of her. “Lulu?”

  Nothing. She gave me nothing.

  I heard Jude’s retreating steps, his voice booming, yelling for a medic. I carefully dragged her clear and rolled her toward me. A guttural sound left the back of my throat as I pulled her in close. She was naked from the waist down. No. Ah fuck, baby, no. I couldn’t allow myself to think about what that meant, not yet. My mind would fracture into a million pieces if I did. I yanked off my shirt and covered her the best I could, then lifted her in my arms. Her skin was cold, so fucking cold, but her pulse was steady.

  Her eyelashes fluttered, then blinked open. “Hunter?’

  Thank fuck. “I’m here, Lulu. You’re safe now.”

  She tried to curl in on herself.

  “It’s going to be okay. Help’s on the way.” I didn’t know what the hell else to say. My emotions were all over the place. The only thing I knew for certain was I di
dn’t want to let her go.

  She started to struggle, like a wounded animal. “Don’t . . . don’t take me back. Don’t take me to him.”

  I held her tighter, trying to control her struggles without hurting her. “I’m not. I promise you, he’ll never get near you again.”

  She wasn’t hearing me. She was lost in panic, in fear, babbling. “I thought . . . I thought you loved me,” she said in a harsh whisper. “I thought you’d work it out. That you’d find a way to reach out to me. That when you got out, you’d find me. I’d wake up one morning, and you’d be there, you’d rescue me.” Her fingers dug into my shoulders. “That you’d tell me you knew.”

  I was trying to understand what she was saying, what she was trying to tell me.

  “Lulu . . .”

  “But you never came,” she whispered.

  The oxygen exploded from my lungs.

  “You never came.” She looked up at me. “You want to know why, Hunter? Why I did what I did?”

  “Baby . . .”

  Her nails dug into my skin, eyes round and haunted, glazed as fuck, like she wasn’t really with me, and the truth poured out of her like a burst dam. “Pierce told me if I provided your alibi he’d kill you. That no one could touch him, that he could make you disappear and no one would ever find your body.” She clung tighter. “He had a man inside and he’d know if I tried to warn you. He told me to visit you in prison, tell you I was going. He had someone watching me, said if I opened my mouth, he’d have you killed. I wouldn’t let him kill you, Hunter. You have to believe me, you have to . . .”

  Jesus fucking Christ. “Lulu . . .”

  “Then I ran because I was afraid Van would find me, make me tell the truth, and Pierce would hurt you. I ran because if Pierce found me he’d drag me back to that hell.” She started to sound slurred, eyes getting unfocused, lids getting heavy. “And I . . . I ran for another reason . . .” She blinked slowly, her eyes staying closed. “Hunter, I . . .”

  She went limp in my arms. “Fuck. Stay with me, Lulu, stay with me, baby.”