Sanctum (Sacred Series Book 1)

by K. Michelle

  The other guy steps towards me, and I flick my gun in his direction.

  “One more step, and you’re a goner, buddy.”

  Henry speaks up, “Okay, okay. We get it. You can put the gun down.”

  I swing the gun back over to Henry, and for the first time, the emotion rushes to the forefront and takes over. Anger, hatred, but mostly it’s sadness. It’s devastation and sorrow for my sister. Tears run down my face, cutting their own path through my skin. “Where is she?”

  “Put the gun down, Dessa,” Henry says sternly, not an ounce of fear in his tone.

  “WHERE IS SHE?!” My hand violently shakes, and I’m sobbing through the words. Henry slowly stands, hands placed on his desk, and he looks at me through hooded eyes. Entirely focused on Henry, I didn’t notice the man who was with him has inched his way closer to me. I grab his suit jacket and position him in front of me with my gun to his temple. He’s a short man, so it’s not too difficult.

  “She’s going to be dead if you don’t calm down.”

  “So is this guy if you don’t tell me where the hell my sister is. The one you sold into Sanctum.”

  “Don’t threaten me, little girl.”

  “I’m not threatening you. I’m promising.” He shakes his head, and I cock the gun, finger on the trigger. “Don’t make me do this, because I will. All you have—”

  A shot rings out so loud, and I don’t feel the burning, throbbing pain in my bicep. My vision is blurry, and I can’t see straight. I look up, and Henry has his gun pointed at me. I realize the man I was holding is dead on the floor, a hole through his heart. I look down and warm blood spills from my bicep. A crimson-colored line so beautiful paints its way down my arm.

  “You shot me,” I state.

  “I shot him. You were a coincidence. You asked me not to make you shoot him, so I figured I’d do it for you. As long as you’re alive, I don’t care what happens to you. I just need to hand you over. Then I am a very rich, very powerful man.” He walks around his desk, grabs ahold of my hair, and yanks me down to sit on the sofa in his office. Afterward, Henry returns to his desk chair and reclines back with a smug smile.

  “Now that you’re docile, I’m afraid I have a confession,” he says as he rummages through his desk and walks back to me. “While you three were killing my men and leaving cute nursery rhymes, I took revenge into my own hands.” Before I have the chance to reply, he handed me an envelope. Inside was a picture.

  A picture of revenge.

  A picture of death.

  A picture of my destruction.

  I’m frantic. A piece of me is missing, and I’m enraged it took me this long to figure it out. Evan and I are about to head out the door when my phone rings. Tessa’s name appears on my screen, and I send her to voicemail. I don’t have time for her shit. Then it rings again. I decline one more time. Seconds later, her name is back on my screen, and this time I answer, “Take a fucking hint, Tessa.”

  “I know where Dessa is,” she cuts right to the chase.

  I stop in my tracks immediately. “You better talk, and you better talk fucking fast. I swear I’ll rip your throat out without thinking twice.”

  Tessa sighs. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know about any of it.”

  “About what? Where is she, Tessa?”

  “Henry made me a deal in exchange for her. I followed you guys from the studio, but I heard you tell her to wait at your house till you got there. So, I waited for her. We drugged her and brought her to Henry. He has her at the bunker.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me, Tessa? Why would you think Henry has any influence over me? I don’t want you.”

  It’s silent on the line, followed by a deep sigh. “The deal wasn’t for you, Cohen.”

  “What are you saying, Tessa?”

  “Henry made me a lot of promises. He saw the good in me when no one else did. He made me feel for once in my life …” she sighs again, “He promised me it would be him and me. He said I couldn’t rely on you anymore, and I didn’t need to be with someone who couldn’t keep his promises to me.”

  “And he could? My father, Tessa? Seriously? Build some self-respect. You need it.”

  “I know that now. It’s the reason I’m calling you. But you need to hurry. He has something planned for her. I don’t know what, but Henry is up to something.”

  “I’ve no doubt.” I hang up, turning towards Evan. “She’s at the bunker. Henry has her.”

  “Well, okay, then. Let’s go.”

  We grab our shit and get in the car to head to Henry’s loft. The loft is clear across the city, so it takes a while to get there. I pull into the gated community and drive down his long bendy driveway. Evan and I get out of the car, ready for a massacre, but it’s eerily calm. We make sure our guns are loaded and head for the front door.

  Halfway there, the door opens, and I’m face to face with Tyler, but all I see is a target and a rat, and I charge at him as his palms fly up. “She’s okay, she’s okay, she’s okay!”

  My gun is at his temple. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “When you left, I heard them call Henry. They knew who she was, and Henry said he already had her. They didn’t know me, and I said I knew where you all were, so they brought me along. It was the only thing I could think of to try and help her.”

  I look back and forth between his eyes with his collar bunched in my hand, deciding he’s telling the truth. I lower my gun and look to Evan, and he nods at me. I let go, pushing Tyler back slightly. “Where is she?”

  “I gave her lunch about two hours ago and loosened the ropes so she could get out, but I haven’t seen her make her move yet unless she’s stealthy as fuck. I sent most of the guys out to a bullshit spot to get to you. It’s only David and Henry and a couple of watchers. I volunteered to babysit.”

  I nod, mulling over what direction I want to go. The shortest distance between point A and point B is a straight line. “Let’s go check the bunker, then pay a visit to daddy-dearest.”

  We walk into the bunker, uncaring and unassuming, but it’s already open. It’s pitch black, but something has caught my eye. One of Henry’s watchers is on the ground in a pool of his own blood with a bullet right through his forehead. I smile, a sense of pride washing over me.

  Evan chuckles as we follow the bloody footsteps up the stairs. This woman can never just wait for me, always taking care of herself. “You’re either the sword or the stone,” her words replay in my head. We walk out of the bunker and down the hall. I’m outside of Henry’s office and hear his voice, but not Dessa’s. Biting the bullet, I barge through the door. Dessa is sitting down, a desolate blank stare decorates her beautiful face, not even registering my presence.

  “Nice of you to join us, son. Evan. Have a seat.” We both stand there, our tall frames taking up most of the room, our stern glares speaking our thoughts clearly. “Or not. Either way, we have a discussion that needs to take place.” Henry stands, buttons his jacket, then leans over his desk, arms stretched out to either side, looking at us through angry hooded eyes. David’s on the floor to my left with a bullet in his chest, and my eyes move back to Henry, not giving away my confusion.

  “Ah, yes. Your ‘Little One’ thought she was being rather cavalier by threatening his life while demanding answers. My eyes move to Dessa, who has blood smeared over her face and body. I look closer and notice the gunshot wound in her arm before my eyes move back to Henry. A smile fills his face, but I don’t make a move to go to her. I know how he works. “What did you do?”

  “What did I do? What did you do, you mean? You’re the one causing the inner turmoil in my fucking company. You’re the one who started killing my men. You’re the one interfering in my business. YOU caused this, not me. And the little girl thought she could use David as a bargaining tool. Well, I gave her a shortcut and shot him myself. Clipping her on the way through.”

  “I caused this? YOU are the one who killed my mother!” I yell back in his face
. Evan mutters from behind me, reminding me to breathe. He’s trying to help me keep my cool before I do something to sabotage this whole thing, but years of resentment and anger fester—a volcano boiling on the brink of eruption, ash raining down upon the city below.

  “Is that what you think? That I killed her?”

  “Shut your mouth about her, if you know what’s good for you. How dare you. Of course, you did. I read the order.”

  He has the nerve to laugh in my face, and Evan grabs my arm. I’m not thinking clearly, and who the fuck knows what he’s told Dessa, who’s shaking her head back and forth, saying “no” repeatedly.

  Evan was holding me back, but now he’s stepping in front of me, slowly stalking towards Henry. “You had the audacity to murder an innocent woman. A wife. A mother. A saint most people would die to have the privilege of sitting in her presence, and you threw that away like trash. It’s not just Cohen out for blood, Henry, it’s me. You took our childhood away from us at a young age. We had no hope of living a sliver of what would be a normal life.”

  “Back up if you know what’s good for you, boy.”

  “Or what? Going to tell my mom? She’s a piece of shit. And the woman I thought of as a mother, you killed. Can’t tell my dad, he left us a long time ago.”

  Henry laughs in his face. “You don’t know the half of anything. I can guarantee, if you kill me, you’ll have much bigger problems on your hands.”

  While Henry and Evan are at it, I walk over to Dessa, taking her face in my hands, trying to get something out of her. “Dessa, baby, hey. Look at me.” I tap her cheek trying to snap her out of it. A small tear follows the wet path down her face. “There she is. Come on, Little One.”

  She lets out a pent-up breath, shuddering through a new stream of tears. “They killed her,” she says through small, but racing breaths.

  Fuck. No. This was not in the plans. “Henry could be lying. We don’t know for sure, that’s why they wanted you.”

  “No. You’re not listening. They killed her.” A sob leaves her chest, and it’s then when I see the picture crumbled tightly in her hand. I try prying it away from her, and it takes a second, but she finally relents. I open the envelope to find a card with a stupid fucking nursery rhyme on it.

  All the king’s horses and all the king’s men …

  I open the card, and shock takes over my body. I look up and understand why Dessa is fucked up right now.

  Couldn’t put Sally together again.

  Below the writing is a picture of Sally dismembered in her kitchen. Blood fills the photo more than her body does, limbs tangled and flesh cut. Dennis isn’t in the picture, and I don’t know where he is or if he’s safe.

  Sally was the only woman to show Dessa what love should look like—what it should be. The only one who was anything like a mother. Now, she’s gone.

  “Kill him, Cohen. Kill him. KILL HIM!” She jumps off the couch, trying to run at Henry. I grab her mid-jump, providing the perfect distraction for Evan to charge Henry and tackle him to the ground. The gun drops from Henry’s grip, and I run to Evan to kick the gun out of Henry’s reach while Evan restrains him.

  I return to Dessa, her face cupped in my hands. “Dessa! Listen to me! Dessa!” Her eyes finally snap to mine, silencing her screams, and I know she’s not in a good space. How the fuck am I going to fix this. Fix her. “I’ll take care of him, and we will find Rory, and we’re going to give Sally the proper goodbye she deserves. I fucking promise you.” She nods, tear-filled blue eyes on mine. “But right now, I’ll make him pay.”

  “Take care of him. Now. Before I do.”

  Evan has Henry by the throat, squeezing him in a headlock as I walk toward the two, retrieving a blade from my band. I stand directly in front of them and shake my head, showing how much disgust and disdain I have for this pathetic, vile garbage human. “This,” I plunge the blade into his stomach, “is for mom. This,” another one, twisting it around between his ribs, “is for Sally and Dennis. This,” another one, and he’s coughing, slowly dying, “is for Evan and me. And this,” last plunge, placing the blade into his chest, “is for Rory and Dessa.”

  Evan lets go, dropping Henry to the floor. He’s well on his way to hell, and I plan on watching every second of it.

  “Con-grat-ula-tions,” he says between coughs and choking. “You’re-on Sanc-tums-list.”

  “What list? I just took down Sanctum, fucker. You’re all gone.”

  He sputters a bloody chuckle. “We’re-not-the-only-ones.”

  My eyes snap up to Evan. What?

  “Fuck! What are you talking about?” I’m shaking him, but it’s too late. He’s gone. “No, no, no! Dammit!” I kick over his chair, but our attention snaps to the clasp of the door.

  A tall blond man with ocean blue eyes is slowly clapping. Dressed in an impeccable Tom Ford suit, he screams wealth and power. “Well done. You just eliminated the number one thorn in my side.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” Evan and I ask in unison. The man’s eyes move to Evan, a sinister smile gleaming on his face as if he knows he’s just placed us in checkmate.

  “Why, son, I’m Peter Costa.”

  Evan, jaw hung in shock and eyes wide, drops the gun in his hand. My breath hitches, shock stilling all three of us. Evan’s dad … and Henry knew him? I’m waiting for him to say more, and when his eyes move to Dessa, my heart drops.

  “President of Sanctum VI, and I’m here to collect my daughter.”

  To Be Continued in Evan’s Book...

  ASYLUM

  ASYLUM

  The second book in the Sacred series

  COMING MAY 2020

  Add to your Goodreads TBR

  ASYLUM / PROLOGUE

  Evan Costa / Present Day / NYC

  Fluorescent lights illuminate a soft light-blue glow to the confined walls of the subway tunnels. No matter how hard I try, there is no avoiding the musty, stale scent filling the air. The sounds of a couple singing and playing the saxophone ring through my ears. I stop to watch them, their eyes are closed, dirt under their fingernails and tears in their clothes. They are doing nothing more than what they love with each other. My lips pull into a grin. They’re so lucky. Grabbing my wallet out of the back pocket of my jeans, I pull out a fifty and drop the bill into the open, worn-out saxophone case.

  I spent all day searching the better half of New York City for a woman I’ve never spoken to. I’ve seen a picture of her, and although she was pretty, about one million women fit her description in this city—blonde hair, hazel eyes, maybe five foot three, high cheekbones, and naturally plump lips.

  My eyes search the sea of people around me, so immersed in their own worlds, and they have no idea a man like me is watching them.

  A man with a heart so broken I’d claw through shards of glass to feel whole.

  A man with a mask, hiding the anger and bitterness shoved deep down, desperate for something good.

  The train finally arrives, knocking me out of my daze, and the crowd pushes their way into the car, others trying to push their way out. It’s a miracle I find a seat, and the tension in my legs subside immediately upon sitting, and the vertebrae in my neck cracks as I roll it side to side. It’s only five in the afternoon, but I don’t remember the last time I’ve slept. I rub my eyes, trying to wipe away the fatigue, and when they open and the blurriness clears, I see a pregnant lady with her two-year-old to my right. She looks like she’s due any day and trying her best to keep her cool with a rambunctious toddler on the five o’clock train.

  “Miss …” She doesn’t hear me, so I tap her shoulder, making her jump with a hand over her heart. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Please, sit here.” My lips pull in a friendly smile.

  “Are you serious?” Her shock at my kindness, or politeness, is evident on her face. People around here suck if this isn’t a common courtesy.

  My hand covers my chest. “As a heart attack.”

  “My dad died of a heart attack,” Mystery-m
om says with a devastatingly serious expression.

  “Then this is my unlucky day with a very ill-timed joke. Now I really need you to take a seat, so I feel a little less dick-ish.” Her two-year-old daughter gasps at me, and the mom bites back a laugh. My bad, kid.

  Her brown eyes find mine again. “I was actually joking, too. My dad is still kicking.”

  Exhaling dramatically, I say, “Lucky me. I can have my seat back, then.” I wink and smile at her, then hold my arm out, still insisting she sits.

  She laughs at me. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

  My shoulders lift. “No problem,” I nod once before leaving, “Have a good evening.”

  “You too.” She blushes, and by the bare spot on her left ring finger, I’m guessing she hasn’t received this kind of attention in a while, probably because of her growing belly, which is a shame. She seems like a beautiful, well-rounded, no pun intended, woman who has her shit together. Even with a psychotic toddler, she is definitely out of my sorry-ass league.

  Gripping the cool metal pole in the middle of the train, everyone collectively sways back and forth as we speed through the underground of New York. My eyes are still peeled open for Rory, but no luck. Turning around, I see a young teenage couple sucking each other’s faces aggressively—nice—and an old Korean family holding several maps, arguing in a language I know fuck-all about. But behind them, I see something that catches my eye.

  Lifting to my toes, I cock my head to the side, trying to get a better view. There. Her. Medium length dark brown hair frames a pale skinned face. High cheekbones, prominently sticking out, and dark circles decorate her under-eyes. But it’s those blue eyes—or are they grey? I can’t tell, but the icy color sends chills down my spine. She stares blankly ahead as her heavy lids lined with long black lashes slightly flutter, and her throat bobs while her pert nose flares. She’s holding back tears, but not for long. I watch as one silently cuts a path down her face. Her eyes close, squeezing tightly to prevent more from flowing. Bony fingers lift to her cheek, wiping the wet trail off her face, snapping her out of her blank stare. Her chest rises in one big motion, trying to get herself under control before she feels me watching her.