Fallen Daughters: A Dark Romance

by Alta Hensley

  Fallen Daughters

  Alta Hensley

  Copyright © 2019 by Alta Hensley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Thank you to Jay Aheer for the amazing cover! Also a big thanks to Maggie Ryan for all the editing along the way. I also can’t forget my amazing betas! You all know who you are, and I love you.

  To my daughters.

  I do this all because of you.

  Contents

  Letter from Alta

  Fallen Daughter #1

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Fallen Daughter #2

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Fallen Daughter #3

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Fallen Daughter #4

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Fallen Daughter #5

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Fallen Daughter #6

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Also by Alta Hensley

  About the Author

  Newsletter

  We are the Fallen Daughters trapped in a dark and twisted world.

  I am the daughter cast in a forbidden and haunted house, captured to earn my release.

  I am the daughter born from evil with no choice but to fight.

  I am the daughter of the apocalypse.

  I am the daughter cloaked in slumber, nightmare and vicious ways.

  I am the daughter taken to breed with the enemy.

  I am the daughter in search for the light as I am surrounded in thick darkness.

  We are the fallen. The daughters who dance between love and lunacy.

  Come join us in our tales.

  I have never been one to dive in the water head first. I like to ease myself in one step at a time. I’m also like this in writing books. I prefer to “test the waters” by writing shorter stories and novellas before I dive into a full-length novel or series. I want to see what the readers enjoy and are pulled to before I go all in. But this process then gives me quite a number of short stories sitting on my desk once the testing is done.

  So, I made a decision.

  It’s time those stories are brought into the light as they were originally written.

  Each one was at one time my baby. My creation.

  I guess you could call them…

  My Fallen Daughters.

  If you are a long time reader of Alta Hensley books, you may even recognize some of the stories in this book. You may know where some of them landed in my testing. You may remember them from anthologies I was once part of. Or they may seem completely new to you. Regardless, I hope you love them all combined into one book. The Fallen Daughters all woven together.

  Happy Reading,

  ~Alta

  Fallen Daughter #1

  1

  I saw the black sedan waiting on the corner. I knew they would come. There was no way around the inevitable no matter how much I had hoped otherwise. There was no escaping Oz, especially when he felt betrayed and penance was due.

  I could run. Self-preservation kicked in as my eyes darted from side to side looking for an escape route. Yes, I could run… and I would be caught. Running from Oz only made things worse. I knew this.

  Fuck. I knew this.

  Penance was due.

  Lifting my chin, straightening my spine, and taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I approached the vehicle. In order to survive, I would need to face the monster head on. Maybe if I showed no fear, I could mask my guilt with bravado. Charm and grace had worked wonders for me in the past, and there was always hope that those same attributes, when utilized correctly, could work again.

  As I approached the driver’s side of the car, the tinted window lowered to reveal a man with a rigid jaw, dark eyes, and about two days’ growth of facial hair. I didn’t recognize him, but I didn’t need to in order to know he worked for Oz. People who looked cold and emotionless all worked for Oz. All employees seemed to be the same. No friends or family really. Loners. A past that made them not care about the future. I should know. I was one of them. I was no different than the man sitting behind the wheel.

  “Get in the car,” he ordered. His tone was flat, firm, and just like his appearance, void of life.

  For a split second, the thought of running attacked all my senses again, but I pushed them to the depths of my being, opened the back seat door, and climbed in. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. I kept hearing the words of my mother when I was a child telling me to never get into the car of strangers. Never speak to strangers. Never do what I was doing.

  Before I could fasten my seatbelt, the car took off. “Where are we going?” I asked. My voice sounded foreign to my own ears. It quivered and sounded weak and helpless. I swallowed hard and tried to chase that cowardly woman away. I wasn’t her. I was a fighter. A powerful woman. A motherfucking queen. I had battle scars to prove it. “Did Oz send you?” I asked, willing myself to sound much stronger this time.

  The man didn’t answer, but I saw his eyes look back at me in the rearview mirror. He diverted eye contact quickly, and it was then that panic set in. No one wanted to connect with a dead man walking.

  Make wise choices, my mother used to say.

  I clearly didn’t listen.

  I should have resisted the pull of money. Any job that paid as well as Oz did was too good to be true. Working as a bookkeeper for the notorious Oz was either a death sentence or a prison sentence. I was a smart woman. I knew that no matter how good I was at running the books for Oz’s multiple shady companies, the government would eventually catch on. But if I didn’t do it Oz’s way—which in his world was the only way—then death would be the only outcome. The pay was excellent, but the risk was deadly.

  Staring out the window at the passing scenery, I wondered what would have been better. When the Feds came charging into my office, I thought prison was the worst option so I was willing to squeal like a pig. I was scared. Terrified of taking the fall for an infamous man who would somehow be able to walk away with his hands clean. It was I who would have gone to jail unless I cut a deal.

  Yes, I was going to cut a deal.

  Bile formed in the back of my throat as I watched us drive hours into the abyss, further and further into the woods—out in the middle of nowhere. Someplace that no one would be able to hear the bullet shot through my head, or my cries for mercy as they tortured me first. We were driving so far out of the city that my body would never be found. My fate was sealed.

  Prison or death?

  Clearly, Oz was making that decision for me.

  The car turned down a narrow dirt road, and my heart stopped. This was it. This emotionless man driving, who didn’t say a single word
, planned to escort me to my death. Would he be the one to kill me? Or was Oz waiting to do it himself?

  It didn’t take long for me to see something unexpected. A large manor loomed in the distance. Dark, gray, ominous, and it appeared as if the devil himself resided within the walls. It was so large that I wondered if it maybe was once a boarding school, or owned by some wealthy oil tycoon who had more money than even Oz. Though, with maybe the once opulence of yesteryear, the structure now looked nearly abandoned cast against the setting sun. If it weren’t for the cars parked in the massive circular driveway, I would have thought the house completely deserted and haunted by all the spirits of murdered souls.

  I was about to join those forgotten souls myself.

  It was as if the manor was lost in time—once magnificent, but now eerily haunting. Large windows with a faint light emerging through the stained glass of the second floor gave such a cold structure some signs of warmth and life. But then the sharp-pitched roof with the crumbling brick chimneys reminded me of the deathlike aura. Would my body be tortured and killed beyond those walls? Was I staring at my own coffin?

  When the car pulled up to the front entrance, I saw a man waiting outside wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. He was at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, his huge figure looming in front of the manor. His hair was black, his eyes dark, and I was pretty sure from the firmness of his expression that his inner being was even darker than his outer appearance.

  The driver got out of the car, opened up my door, and yanked me out of the vehicle. With a strong grip of my upper arm, my chauffeur half-dragged me to the waiting man since my feet could barely keep up with his speed and purpose. As we approached the steps, both men silently climbed their way to the front door and pulled me inside. Once we reached the foyer, I was shoved to the floor.

  “Kneel,” the man who had been waiting for me said.

  Too panicked to do anything else, I scrambled to my knees and did as he said while I quickly tried to scan my surroundings. A glorious staircase mastered the entire space with its intricately carved banister spiraling alongside the wooden steps. Original pocket doors concealed rooms on each side of me, and the scarred wooden floor beneath my knees countered the lavishness of the chandelier dangling over me.

  “Esme Myers,” the man began as he stood in front of me with his arms remaining crossed at his chest. It was as if my assassin was going to lecture me like a naughty schoolgirl rather than kill me for my deadly transgressions.

  I didn’t respond, but looked up into his eyes instead. I swallowed hard and struggled to breathe. For a moment, I wondered if I would die of a heart attack before the man had a chance to end my life on his own terms.

  “I’m not one to fuck around. So, let’s just get to the point. You know why you are here, yes?”

  I nodded and looked down at the floor. My nerves could no longer handle the severity that I saw in his eyes and on his face. I foolishly thought I could be brave and face my death head on, but the tears that began to fall and the need to beg for mercy almost erupted from the place I thought I had securely locked my fear away.

  “Oz is not a man to cross. Betrayal equals death. And in most cases, the most torturous, agonizing death you could imagine. He wants to make his enemies pay with far more than just their lives.” He took one step toward me, and I flinched as if he had just punched me in the face. “But you know that. You know what could happen to you right now.”

  My mind ran rampant with all the ways this man would make me pay. Every single horror movie I ever watched played back in my head. My ragged breath came out in gasps as my vision dimmed. My ears rang, and my body began to quiver. This was it.

  This was it.

  The man reached for my chin and tilted my head back so I had to look up into his eyes. “My name is Knox. I am one of the Monsters of Mercy in the manor.” He paused for a moment to give me time to absorb his words. “I am the monster assigned to you. I am the man who will make you pay.”

  “Pay?” There was a note of hysteria in my voice as I asked, “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Death would be easy compared to what I plan to do to you.”

  “Torture me?”

  “In the most wicked of ways. Yes.”

  I flinched when I heard the cries of a woman from another room in the manor. Staring up into my monster’s eyes, I asked, “You are one of the Monsters of Mercy? How many are there?”

  “The only monster you should worry about, Esme, is me.”

  The sob I had been struggling to hold back released. It was even louder as it was amplified by the barren walls of the entryway. My shoulders shook with every desperate wail. I could no longer wear the crown of the brave queen. It was broken, chipped, destroyed by fear. I was so very scared, and all I could do was watch my tears fall to the floor before my knees.

  “Don’t cry, my shattered sparrow. Not yet.” Knox bent down and caressed the back of my head, once again lifting my face so I was forced to look into his unforgettable eyes. He then took a handful of hair and yanked my head back hard. “Not until I give you something to cry about. And I will.” He bent his head down, brought his lips to my exposed neck, and kissed it. Tugging on my hair harder, he inched back and looked me square on, so close to my face that I could feel his breath on my lips. I could smell his manly scent of spice and control… if control had a scent. He was so close. I could almost feel him. I knew his touch wouldn’t be soft or gentle. There was nothing but raw power exuding from this man. “I most certainly will.”

  2

  I hadn’t noticed that the driver had still been in the manor until Knox nodded at him. “I’ll take it from here. Go ahead and tell Oz it’s handled, and I’ll be in contact soon.” He looked down at me and gave a fiendish smile. “As soon as I go over the ground rules and break our guest in.”

  When the front door closed, I adjusted my weight to relieve the pressure on my knees. The small movement was not a good idea, however. Knox, who still had a handful of my hair in his grasp, jerked me up to a standing position. The sting on my scalp had me crying out, but I didn’t resist in any way.

  “First rule,” he said between clenched teeth. “You do nothing without my permission. Nothing at all. I don’t care if you are uncomfortable, in pain, or just in the mood to do something of your own free will. You won’t do anything without my direct order, or you will suffer the consequences.”

  He paused and waited for some type of response from me. I couldn’t talk. I was so terrified that I could only stare and nod. What consequences? Was he going to kill me or not?

  “Let me explain why you are here,” he began. “Oz has graciously decided to grant you mercy. Of sorts. He believes in paying for your crimes, and that is where I come in. Oz has brought you to the Monsters of Mercy Manor as punishment for your wrongdoings. A far better punishment than the awful death he could have given you.”

  “I don’t understand,” I began as Knox still held my hair firmly at the roots. “I’m not going to die? I wasn’t brought here to die?”

  “That all depends. A death sentence is not off the table, but you have a chance to remove it.”

  “How?” I asked, feeling the first spark of hope since the federal agents stormed through my office doors.

  Still holding my hair, Knox led me to the stairs. “By paying your penance. You will gain your freedom by earning credits. Oz has sentenced you to one hundred credits owed. Once you pay those credits, you are free. Failure to earn them, or failure to earn them at a speed that Oz—and I, as your assigned Monster of Mercy—feel is appropriate will end in death. So, the choice really is up to you. Just as the choice of whether you would betray Oz was up to you. You clearly chose wrong, but hopefully when I am done with you, you will never make that mistake again.”

  “He wants me to pay him with credits?” I tried to turn my head to look at Knox in desperation but was rewarded with a sharp pull of my hair as he led me up the stairs. “I can
do that. How much are the credits? I will pay him whatever he feels fair. Whatever he wants, I will pay. I’ll find a way. I swear.” I stumbled up the stairs to try to keep up with his stride.

  In the corner of my eye, I could see Knox smirk. “Oh, you will pay. You will definitely pay.”

  When we reached the landing, I tried not to focus on the cries of women I could hear coming from other rooms down the long expansive hallway. My head spun as I was trying to process what Knox was telling me. My life was spared—for now. But what else was expected? I didn’t quite understand. Credits?

  “Oz created this manor for women exactly like you. Women who need guidance, structure, and a firm hand on teaching them right from wrong. He’s granting you mercy.” Knox opened up a bedroom door and shoved me across the threshold as he followed close behind. “As long as you earn your hundred credits, you will come out of this alive.”

  Looking around the room, it surprised me to see that it looked like any normal guestroom that would be in such an elegant manor of its day. I was expecting a prison or dungeon of some sort. Instead, a large canopied bed mastered the room with lush bedding and pillows. There was a floor-to-ceiling window draped with heavy velvet curtains. Antique furniture adorned the room and was even accentuated with a large oriental rug that covered most of the marred wooden floor. The room was lovely, elegant, and welcoming. Quite the opposite of what I was expecting.