Cruel Captivation: A Dark Romance (Underground Kings Book 5)

by Kelli Callahan

  “Oh no,” Finley starts to put two and two together.

  “Yeah. Sirens were wailing outside, and I hadn’t even called the cops yet; someone else had. The cops busted into the room, cuffed me, and as I was getting dragged out of the room with Grace’s blood all over me, Heather saw me.” I wince when Owen places the last stitch, but I’m too upset at remembering the story to give him a hard time about it. “She thought I did it, and then three days later, Grace died from her injuries, and Heather believed I did that too. She hates me; she kind of always has. She testified against me, but they couldn’t bring the charge of Grace’s death on me because there wasn’t enough evidence, but yeah, that’s it. That’s what happened.”

  I expect silence, but Quinn hurries with a question. “But if your family is so well-known, why didn’t they get you a lesser sentence? I mean, aren’t wealthy families known for getting their kids out of trouble?”

  “Yeah, but my parents only cared that their name was sullied. They didn’t care about me. They didn’t come to see me, they didn’t write, I only ever got one letter and it was from Heather.”

  “What did it say?”

  “I don’t know, Quinn. I never opened it.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I don’t want to see her handwriting telling me how much she wishes I were dead. I’m not strong enough to read something like that, and you guys know that.” I give them a half-smile in reassurance, but they seem shocked at my statement. Jaxon’s hairline has disappeared from how high his brows are now. “Come on; you guys don’t think I know I’m the young, emotional one of the group? I know I am. I don’t have a problem with it. I know what it’s like to live in freezing temperatures and a world where feelings were banned. I was never capable of living like that. I am who I am. I used to be ashamed about it, but I’m not now.”

  “Do you still have the letter?”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s in a safe place.” It’s in my underwear drawer, right under my favorite pair of boxer briefs, but no one needs to know that. “I won’t ever open it, so don’t ask.”

  “I’m glad you’re with us,” Quinn says, bringing me a cute baby to cheer me up.

  “Nope. No more baby holding. You’re pushing yourself. You aren’t ready for that kind of weight against your chest even though they are only six pounds. So don’t argue.”

  “But Owen, I want to hold the cute baby!” I pout, staring at Holt as if he is about to disappear.

  “No. Don’t make me unstitch you and stitch you back up for the hell of it.”

  I gasp. “I’m not into that, Owen. How rude of you to ask.”

  Everyone laughs, which is what I am looking for to break the tension in the air, but my soul is aggravated by the past. I grab the remote as everyone starts to chit-chat. I know Quinn, she’s thinking of a way to connect the dots and find romance, but there isn’t any. Everyone will see in time that Heather is a strong, independent woman who does not need a man like me.

  When she leaves the Cliff House, she won’t look back to say goodbye.

  The look backs are the most important too. They give hope that there is still a chance, but Heather has always made sure to make it perfectly clear that the last thing I have with her is a damn chance.

  I flip on the TV, and the news comes on. A picture of Heather fills the right side of the screen, and the scene changes to Heather’s parents. They are standing at a podium. Her mom and dad are crying, and they can barely speak the words they need to ask the people to help find their daughter.

  “Please. Please, just bring her home. We have a five-million-dollar reward for anyone that can lead us to our baby. Please,” her mom breaks, holding herself up on the podium.

  I turn the TV off, and I feel everyone’s attention on me again. The situation is serious. They are going to have every cop looking in California for her. Every square inch of it and if they find her with me…

  All hell will break loose.

  Four

  Heather

  The shower is running, and the steam is fogging up the mirror in front of me, clouding my sad, pathetic reflection. I don’t know why I’m looking at myself, but I can’t help it. I’m addicted to it. As much as I don’t want to see what he has done to me anymore, every scratch, every bruise, I touch them every chance I get.

  I replay what happened to me because I’m still finding it hard to believe. I’m in denial. Maybe I dreamed it all. I’m in a bad nightmare and I’m trying to find way to claw myself out of it, but every time I stroke my body and feel the damage he has done, the further I sink into despair.

  I sit down on the toilet and spread my legs, whimpering when the bite of pain between my legs still throbs. The marks along my inner thigh are deep and they might scar. I lean my elbow on the counter, suddenly too weak to want to shower, but I know I have to. It’s been a few days and I’ve laid in bed enough. It’s time I start… trying.

  Trying to do what, I don’t know. I have no idea where to start, but showering is a good step, right? I wipe my cheek and slam my hand on the counter when I realize I’m crying. God, I’m sick of it. I’m tired of crying. I’m so sick of feeling sorry for myself and weak. I feel so fucking weak, but I only get weaker laying in bed.

  I open the curtain to the shower and step in, hoping this will be the shower that washes everything away. I stand there for a few minutes as the hot water hits my back, warming my tense, sore muscles.

  “Heather?”

  I scream when I hear my name followed by a knock at the bathroom door. My foot slips against the wet floor, and I fall. My hip hits first and then the back of my head hits the faucet used when the bath is on.

  “Heather! Are you okay?” Jolie screams through the door and tries to open it, but I locked it.

  “I’m fine,” I whisper, trying to be patient as my vision tries to focus back to normal.

  “Answer me, Heather!” she bangs on the door, but I must have hit my head harder that I thought. Are you freaking kidding me? Is it bad to feel like the world is against me right now? After everything, I have to slip and fall and bust my head open. “Heaven!” she calls out for my beloved enemy.

  No, not like this. I don’t want him to see me while I’m broken, battered, and used. If he sees me right now, he will never look at me the same again.

  “Heaven! She fell. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I would scare her.” Jolie explains, which means he must be right next to her.

  The hot water sprays onto my breasts and as I try to get up, my arms slip against the floor. My shoulder smacks, and I’m so frustrated that this is happening and my emotions are as thin as a damn piece of soggy paper.

  I cry.

  I give up.

  I fucking give up.

  “You win,” I mutter at the man who is dead and killed my spirit. “You hear me!” I roar at the high heavens. Oh, no, wrong direction. I need to be speaking to hell. I curl in on myself and pathetically give into the worthlessness I feel. “You win,” I whisper, accepting defeat.

  “Heather?” Heaven’s silky voice soothes through the door and he knocks. “You okay?”

  No.

  But I don’t want him to know that.

  “Move back, Jolie. I’m going to break down the door.”

  “What? No, you can’t—”

  It’s too late.

  The door crashes in and the curtain blocks the pieces of wood flying so they can’t harm me. The metal of the hooks slide against the shower rod and the water shuts off, then there is a towel laid over me before arms swoop under and lift me from the floor.

  “You’re bleeding,” Heaven notices as he carries me to the bedroom. “You’re going to be okay.”

  “I’m fine. I slipped. It isn’t a big deal,” I say. I’m mortified that he saw me like this. When we were younger, I imagined us naked a hundred times, but now? The last thing I want him to do is see me. I’m not strong and defiant anymore. I’m not the woman that caught his eye.

  I wasn’t blind. I knew he wanted m
e because Asher always wanted everyone.

  Now I’m a burden.

  “It is a big deal. I’ll get Owen in here to look at the wound to see if you need stitches. He sets me on the bed, my back still wet and soaking the comforter. I scurry away from him and cover myself with the blanket so he can no longer see me.

  Plus, being around him makes me nervous and I don’t know if it’s in a good way or a bad way. I feel both when it come to Asher. Men make me nervous. I know not all men are bad now, but right now, I don’t have the ability to decipher if they won’t hurt me.

  “I’m not ever going to hurt you, Heather. Never. I know we have rough history and that’s another conversation for another time, but I’d never hurt you.” His eyes are frowned at the sides, almost as if the thought of me being afraid of him brings him agony. “God, I’d never,” he whispers.

  I don’t say anything because there is more than one way to hurt someone. If there is one thing I know about Asher, I’d be left with a broken heart wanting more from him just like every other woman in his life that he leaves brokenhearted in a bed.

  I’m not ready for that.

  I shiver when the air kicks on and the water drips down my arms, reminding me that I’m soaking wet.

  “You’re frozen. I’ll turn on the heat in your room.”

  I figured he would walk out the door and into the hallway where most of the thermostats are for people in their houses. I shouldn’t be surprised that he stops at a white box on the wall near the bathroom and with a touch of a screen, the air stops blowing and it is replaced by warmth. I sigh when it warms my skin. I need to get up and get dressed, but my head is swimming and the effort it will take to get up is too much for me to handle right now.

  “Is that better, baby?” Heaven asks, calling me a sweet pet name, but I choose to ignore it. He’s probably being nice.

  I tuck my hair behind my ear and nod, not looking up to see his eyes pitying me.

  “Crap, you’re really bleeding,” Heaven says, rushing over from the bathroom with a towel in his hand. He rubs the soft fabric against my arm, and I notice a streak of red smearing on my arm has he wipes me clean, then presses it against my head. “Don’t be nervous. Head wounds bleed more even if the injury isn’t severe.”

  I want to ask how he knows that, but I don’t want him to think I’m attacking him with guilt because of what happened to my sister. The only person who truly knows anything is Grace and the man that killed her. Asher only saw the aftermath.

  “I’m not afraid,” I say, numbly. “I don’t know what I’m afraid of these days, but bleeding to death isn’t one of them.”

  “You should always be afraid of death,” he states, his voice sad at my declaration.

  “Why? Living is so much harder.”

  “Until you find something that is worth living for, something that will bring meaning in your life again. It will come. Right now, you’re swimming in a wicked storm, but it can’t rain forever. The calm will come.”

  “I don’t know if I believe you,” I say weakly, pulling my legs to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, but careful to keep the blanket covering me. My entire back is exposed to Heaven, but it’s not like he has never seen a back. Once you seen one hundred of them, you’ve seen them all, right?

  “That’s okay. I’ll believe in it for you.”

  “Knock, Knock,” Owen says at the door. “I hear someone slipped and fell?” he has a red first-aid kid in his hand and he give Heaven a warning glare. “Stop pushing yourself. You need to rest. I’m not fixing those stitches again.”

  I turn to look over my shoulder to see Asher shrugging, but he doesn’t move away from me. “What he is talking about?”

  “Nothing, baby. Don’t worry about it.”

  There he goes with that pet name again. I’m still not going to ask why he is calling me that because I don’t want to think more of him right now. I’m not ready for that because I know the immensity of how I’d fall for him.

  Hard and deep with no return.

  And I can’t handle him taking over me when I need to find myself.

  “What happened?” I ask again as Owen sets his first-aid kit on the bed.

  “I pushed him through a sliding glass door. A shard of glass went through his back and out of the middle of his chest. He has a pretty nasty wound. I’m surprised he is even up and walking around right now.” Owen takes the towel off my head and Heaven then takes a pillow and props it up on my back to block me.

  I bury my face in my knees and my heart fills with warmth knowing he is protecting me like this, but it means he is also pushing himself for me. I had no idea he was injured. “You should rest. Owen can take care of me. I’ll be fine. After he stitches me up, I want to try to bathe again.”

  “I don’t think you need to be doing anything for a day or so.” Owen shines a light in my eyes and it’s unexpected, so I wince away, but Heaven is behind me, crowding my back with his body. I need to pull away from him because his body heat is so comforting, and I don’t want to find solitude in it. I relish how close he is for a few more moments before I scoot away from him about an inch so I can’t feel the tickle of his chest hair against me. “You have a mild concussion. You need to rest, but I don’t want you falling asleep for about twelve hours.”

  “Twelve?” I gasp, wishing I never freaking woke up in the first place or this would have never happened.

  “Do a movie marathon. Rest. I’ll call the doctor and have him come check on you—”

  “No! No, male doctors. I’ll see a female doctor, but that’s it. I don’t want to be around someone I don’t know, touching me,” I shiver at the thought, and I swear I can feel the phantom touch of my abuser. “Please, a female.”

  “Anything you want, baby. We understand. No one is going to hurt you anymore, okay?”

  I’m not sure if I believe him. The person in this house that has the capability of hurting me the most is Asher, just like he did all those years ago.

  “Knock, knock.” I find myself in de ja vu when I stare at the door and see another man standing there and is covered in tattoos. I already know he is the man in charge because of the power he surges into the room. He has confidence and it slithers over me, making me quiver.

  There are three men in the room and Jolie is sitting quietly in the corner, but I’m feeling suffocated. There are too many people around me.

  “It’s okay,” Asher whispers in my ear, his hands landing on my shoulders to relax me.

  Surprisingly, it does.

  “That’s Jaxon. He’s the guy that keeps us in line when he thinks we are being too naughty,” Asher gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and his playful tone reminds me of when we were younger. I always saw and heard him joking around with others. It seems like he hasn’t changed that much.

  Jaxon doesn’t enter the room. He seems to catch on that I need space. His fingers are laced together in front of him, a gold watch shining from his wrist. He crosses his ankles over one another and gives me a slight head nod. “How are you doing, Heather?” he asks, the authority in the baritone levels of his voice slither over me and causes a panic.

  Asher feels me tense and rubs a hand softly down my back, which reminds me to breathe. I take a deep breath at the same time Owen gets done putting a bandage on the wound. “Okay, it isn’t too deep. I did put glue on it to seal it and in a few hours you can get rid of the bandage. Just relax today.” Owen grabs his medical kit and goes to walk out the door, but I stop him.

  “Thank you,” I say, small and timid. “For patching me up.” I lift my hand to the side of my head, grazing the fingers along the gauze.

  “You’re welcome,” Owen’s eyes become soft as he stares at me and he holds his hand out to a quiet Jolie who is sitting in the corner.

  As the couple walks out, Jolie stops and turns around. “I know it seems like you’re all alone, but you aren’t. I’m here. I can relate to you and I know right now that doesn’t seem like much, but it helps more
than you think.” Owen tugs Jolie through the door and Jaxon takes a step to the side to make room from them to exit.

  I remember Jaxon asking me how I was doing and gather the courage I need to tell him the truth or lie. I might as well be honest, lying would seem ridiculous, especially in the state I’m in. “I don’t think I’m doing that well, honestly.”

  He nods as if he understands but there is no way anyone can understand what I’m feeling unless they have experienced it, like Jolie. “That’s understandable. You’re safe here. I want you to know that. You’re under our protection,” he says.

  “I’m learning that slowly,” I reply.

  “Slow is better than not at all.” This time, he does take a step inside the room and the intensity rolling off him in waves has my spine straightening. “So, I’m not sure if you know this, but it is something that needs to be discussed.” He sits in the corner where Jolie was just a moment ago, not crowding me.

  I like that.

  He respects the panic I feel. Not many men care enough like these guys do.

  “Jaxon,” Asher warns him and when I look above me, he is shaking his head, disagreeing with whatever Jaxon wanted to talk about.

  “It has to be discussed. It isn’t fair to make them wait.” He leans his elbows on his knees and the shaved side of his head is illuminated in the light while the hair that hangs down is hidden in the shadows. He is a very scary guy, and I’m glad he is in my corner.

  For now.

  So it seems.

  “Your parents are very worried about you, Heather.”

  “You’ve talked to them?” I ask, feeling a bit more alive than I did a second ago.

  “No,” he shakes his head. “Every news outlet on TV has your picture on it. They want you home and they need to know you’re safe. It looks like they miss you very much.”

  My chin wobbles and the threat of tears shakes my lip. “I miss them too. I never thought I’d see them again.”