Purgatory

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Purgatory Page 8

by Hayley Smyth


  As I walked down the spiraling staircase, the breeze from the open door blew inward, and I was shocked at just how many were arriving. Some I knew, some I didn’t.

  They all glanced towards me, giving me a polite nod, but it was Mr. Bartos who approached me, pulling me into his embrace.

  His sweaty, musky smell enveloped me, my eyes widening at his over-friendly gesture.

  “Mrs. Chrobak,” he gushed. “My, you look a vision.”

  Pulling back, he held me at arms’ length, and my skin bristled at his touch. “Thank you, sir. That’s very kind of you to say.”

  He grinned, his fat face and white hair made him look older than he was. “Will you be joining us today?”

  “I’m not sure. I was just on my way to find Vladimir.”

  Grinning again, he linked my arm through his, resting his hand on mine. “Wonderful, I am too. Let’s find him together.” With that, he yanked me through the bustling hallways of The Mansion, in search of my husband.

  The library was where we found him, sat in his chair, at the head of the table, which was big enough to seat thirty or so men, and a drink was already in his hand. Jozef stood by his side, looking as uninterested with life as he usually did, a permanent sneer fixed under his bushy mustache.

  I loved the library. It was enormous, home to hundreds of thousands of books. The ceilings had been risen a few years ago after Vlad decided to make his home even grander than it was already.

  Bookshelves, which ached your neck if you looked at them for too long, lined every wall, the edges were encrusted with chubby, golden cherubs; it looked as though they were guarding the books.

  At the farthest part of the room was a cozy little nook where bean bags and small, plush couch sat in front of a fireplace. Not that it was lit often, not in the Santa Fe heat.

  It was beautiful, and I often found myself here, my nose in a book, and a head filled with notions of love and other mythical things.

  Vladimir got to his feet, noticing Mr. Bartos and I stood at the entrance of the library.

  He opened his arms, unloved teeth on show. “Bartos, it’s good to see you! I’m pleased my wife had the sense to accompany you. The meeting will be starting soon, help yourself to drinks."

  Bartos released my hand and smiled before walking over to the table, sitting to the right of Vladimir. Jozef remained on his feet, hands crossed in front of him, empty eyes scanning the room.

  I shuffled from foot to foot, feeling awkward and on show, even though no-one was paying me any attention. The men spoke in hushed tones, exchanging pleasantries and, thankfully, Marnie came barreling into the room behind me, almost knocking me to the floor.

  “Oh, shit. What are you standing there for, you lemon? Come on; we’re on drinks,” she informed me as she steadied me.

  The bar was situated on the left side of the room, we set about grabbing the silver trays, four crystal decanters filled with Vlad’s most expensive whiskey, and Edith had left a platter of olives and cheeses, and so we took those over to the men as well.

  We were placing everything down, when the door opened once more, revealing a hoard of men in suits, chattering, walking in excitement and ooh-ing over the grandeur of my husband’s home.

  I scurried back to the bar, and turned to face the wall; keeping out of the way would serve me well. Marnie was greeting each man, her flirty voice could be heard over the deep rumble of male voices, and I rolled my eyes at her. Oh, to be Marnie for a day.

  It was as I’d bent down to grab a water bottle when I heard it. A voice I’d never forget. A voice so familiar to me, I’d hear it over thousands of people’s noise.

  The walls began to wobble as he continued to talk; each breath I took was now painful as I fought the anxiety attack trying to take me hostage. I could hear the cracks of the walls, I could see them splitting right in front of me, but I couldn’t move.

  I pressed my hand to my chest bone and slammed my eyes shut, blinking away sweat droplets that were sliding down my forehead.

  Why was he here?

  Why now?

  Stumbling, I grabbed the bottle I’d seen, unscrewed the cap and gulped down huge mouthfuls of water, it spilled from my trembling lips and soaked the front of my dress.

  Dammit.

  Marnie’s hand on my back startled me, and I cried out, my legs giving in to the sheer terror, leaving me a collapsed mess on the floor.

  Pull yourself together, I urged myself.

  Marnie’s pretty face appeared in my tear-soaked vision.

  “W-what the hell is he d-doing here?” I choked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, trying my best to keep my voice down.

  “I have no fucking idea. Ella, shit, breathe, babe.” Marnie stroked away the damp hair from my face, and I concentrated on each breath. In, out, in, out.

  “I don’t understand any of this,” I said. “First the Murdoch, and now him. Back. Here.” Each word grew in pitch, along with my panic.

  “Babe, you’ll be fine. Please, calm down. He can’t hear you.”

  “Everything okay back there, ladies?” My husband’s voice asked.

  Gasping, I wiped myself over and tried to rearrange my dress and hair.

  Standing, as if seeing him again was bad enough, my entire world shifted one galaxy to the left as my eyes met his. Not Marco’s, no, the man beside him. The man with the darkest eyes, the man with the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. The man who was staring right at me. The room spun, and I knew what was going to happen before it did.

  The last thing I heard as I hit the floor was Vladimir’s angry voice.

  Jax.

  Holy. Fucking. Christ. Was I in trouble? The redhead beauty took one look at me and dropped to the floor, much to Vladimir’s dismay. A mixed-race guy, whose name I did not know, and I ran to her aid, shoving the brunette out the way.

  We looked down at the woman. Fuck, she was stunning. Mouth-watering. Her skin was so pale, and my back was up as soon I saw the bruises covering her thighs, the bruises around her eyes. The guy beside me scooped her into his arms with a weird familiarity, and I stood to one side, watching as he strode towards Vladimir.

  “Thank you, Marco,” Vlad said, his teeth on the verge of cracking under his annoyance. “Forgive me, gentlemen. My wife has not been very well for the last few days.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the skinny brunette eyeing me. If she’d have been a cat, she would have been sharpening her fucking claws.

  Marco gave my new boss a curt nod, and made way for the door, when, from out of no-where, an ear-piercing shirked cut through the air, and the woman was screaming in his arms.

  He placed her on her feet, she wobbled, pushing against his chest, unaware as to where the fuck she was.

  “Ella!” Vlad bellowed, silencing the entire room.

  The redhead looked wild, blue eyes the size of saucers and her small fucking hand pressed against her heaving chest as she looked between Marco, Vlad, and then me.

  The men shifted in their seats, unsure how to react, and the British guy I’d met outside was the first to speak.

  “Sir, shall we see if she’s okay? Is there a doctor here or anything?”

  Vlad’s eyes snapped towards the new guy, and then they softened. He cleared his throat and clicked his fingers. “Jax, my boy, would you care to escort Mrs Chrobak back to her quarters, please? I fear my wife is feverish.”

  All eyes were now trained on me, waiting to see if I’d accept.

  As if I could refuse. “Of course, sir.” I nodded, causing Ella Chrobak to whimper, backing up against the wall some more.

  “Don’t take long, my boy, we still have a lot to go over.”

  “Sir.”

  Vlad glared at his wife before taking his seat once more.

  I moved across the room with all the arrogance a Murdoch could muster, ignoring the whispers, ignoring the hostility rolling from Marco in waves. What the fuck was his deal, anyway? I kept my eyes focused on the beauty.

&nb
sp; The front of her blue dress was wet, as was her hair. Her ankles struggled to keep her weight up, her heels threatening to snap her bones in two if someone didn’t come to her rescue quick fucking sharp.

  Holding my hand out, her eyes stared at it. “Come on, ma’am,” I said.

  Annoyed groans from the table erupted and, not waiting for the pig to fucking shout at her again, I simply grabbed her hand and yanked her from the room, closing the door behind me.

  “Let me go,” she whispered. Her voice was sugar sweet. Too sweet for this world. “I can walk.”

  “Like hell you can,” I replied, surprising her by lifting her lithe body from the floor, cradling the damn woman like a bride on her wedding night.

  She didn’t fight. She didn’t scream and push me away like she had with Marco, and I felt a little smug about the whole thing.

  “Who are you?” She asked, her voice slurred from her outburst. I stole a glance towards her, my feet starting the journey up the stairs. I had no fucking clue where her bedroom was.

  Smiling, I said, “Jax Murdoch.”

  Nothing. She didn’t flinch. Her eyes were still closed, and I was tempted to prize them open, see them stunning blues again.

  “Oh,” was all she said back, her hands gripped on to my shirt and, I’m not fucking ashamed to admit, her touch my skin goddamned skin alight. “My husband doesn’t like you much,” she mumbled as we reached the last step. Hearing her sweet voice call him that made my skin crawl. Sonofabitch bruised her, and you didn’t need her to confirm that he was responsible for the marks all over her beautiful flesh.

  “I don’t think much of him either,” I said, looking down the vast hallway.

  As if reading my thoughts, she gave me directions, her slim arm shaking as she pointed. “Fourth door on the left.”

  It had been an uneventful drive to Vladimir’s mansion. Meeting him on his home turf had been, for the most part, uneventful. The whole morning had been dull, far too quiet for how big a day it was, and then she lost consciousness. She’d already been halfway to a full-blown meltdown, but I saw her the moment I’d walked in that room.

  She was the type of fire in a room you most definitely couldn’t or shouldn’t ignore. If God was testing me, well, the score was going to be tallying up nice on his side.

  We were both silent as we reached her bedroom door. It was awkward as hell, trying to twist the doorknob with her in my arms, but I didn’t put her down. I held her against me as I opened it, I carried her through her clinical space and deposited her on her bed.

  Her eyes never opened, and I stood there, watching as she covered herself with her sheet, knowing I should leave.

  “Do you need me to send anyone up?” I asked her.

  A smile ghosted her lips; I wasn’t sure why, and she shook her head, red fucking curls framing her cheekbones.

  “I’m sorry he chose you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry he’s dragged you away from your life.”

  With her curled up in the fetal position, body bruised, make-up unable to conceal her bruises, hair fanning around her like a pair of wings, that I thought of her as a bird. A broken, fragile bird with wings no-one would let her use. I didn’t know shit about the woman, but I knew, without a shadow of a goddamn doubt, that she didn’t deserve to belong here.

  Crouching down beside her bed, keeping my greedy hands from touching her, I frowned. “Why the fuck are you sorry, bird?”

  That ghost smile graced her pink lips again. “Because, I, too, know what it’s like to be taken from everything you know.”

  A loud bang on her door had me standing up, leaving her to sleep.

  Opening it, the Brit was waiting on the other side, smile plastered across his face. “Vlad’s waiting, mate. Everything good here?”

  Turning for one last glance towards her, I nodded, pulling the door shut. “Yeah. All fucking good.”

  This new life of mine was going to prove to be a far bigger challenge than I had anticipated.

  Chapter Nine

  Ella - Then.

  Santa Fe was waiting for the storm. A storm that we were all hoping and praying would clear the thick, humid, sticky air. I loved the heat and sun as much as the next person, but it was hot. Too hot. The Mansion was asleep, my feet were bare and soaking in the pool, the moonlight shining so brightly I could hardly see.

  I never usually stayed up long after everyone else was sleeping. Tonight, however, I needed the quiet, the water on my skin, a moment away from one man who was beginning to cause so many problems I did not need.

  Of course, my respite from Purgatory was short-lived.

  He found me.

  He always did.

  Stepping from the shadows, his brown chest bare and wet from his shower, he grinned upon seeing me. He’d been such a good friend to me, and it had been nice having a male friend. I loved Marnie, with all my heart, but Marco was softer than she, calmer, and drama didn’t follow him.

  Well, that’s what I'd believed in the four months he’d spent by my side.

  I ignored how close his body was to mine, the smell of liquor floated through the small space between us, telling me all I needed to know. Marco was a terrible drunk.

  “You alright, gorgeous?” He said, nudging me in the ribs.

  I nodded, looking towards the water. “Just needed a moment, you know?”

  A weird, unsettling silence devoured us. I didn’t like it; something was bothering him. Looking back, I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.

  “Something you need to say?” I looked at him, his lovely brown eyes, his face that had comforted me so many times recently, and I knew that whatever he’d say next, I wasn’t going to like.

  “Ella, can I be frank you with, babe? Like, flat out, no bullshit, honest?” He picked at the skin around his nails.

  Nodding, I swallowed the nerves lodged in my neck. “Yes, of course.”

  Taking a deep breath, each muscle of his torso flexed, and he turned sideways, his knee pressing against my hip. “I-” he began, rubbing his hands over his face. “Shit, I have no idea how to say this, babe, so I’m just going to come out with.”

  Above us, the skies opened up and fat, angry raindrops splattered on our skin, and I squealed. “Oh, my god. At last!” I threw my head back and opened my arms, welcoming the cold, refreshing water.

  The clouds were dark, you could see how heavy they were, but Marco didn’t join in with rejoicing. His puppy eyes bore into me, scaring me.

  Knowing precisely what he was about to admit, I sighed. “Please don’t say what I think you’re going to. Please, Marco. Don’t put me in that position.”

  I yelped when he climbed over me, pushing my back against the floor, his warm hand caressing my hair. I felt sick to my stomach. No. No.

  His hungry eyes devoured me, gaped at my lips, and all I could do was cry. “Ella, I love you. Shit, I thought I could ignore it, well I can’t. Not anymore.”

  “Marco, no-”

  His palm cupped my mouth, silencing me, stifling my protests and his hips ground into the apex of my thighs. Tears fell down the side of my head, mixing with the rain that was becoming torrential.

  “I know we can’t be together, I know that’s an impossibility, but one night, Ella.” He lowered his head, his lips a hairsbreadth from my ear. “Let me have you, babe, you do that, and I’ll tell you where your daughter is.”

  Like a sadist, wanting to hear my audible reaction, he released his hand from my mouth to let me gasp. How could he? My heart broke for a friend I never had. Drink did not excuse this.

  Crying, I tripped over my words, “Marco, no. I can’t.”

  Slamming his hand over my mouth, he pushed my knees farther apart. “Bullshit, babe. I’ve seen the way you look at me, like a hungry fucking wolf. Don’t play Miss Innocent now.”

  No, no, I never! I screamed internally.

  “I’m offering you a chance to be fucked like a woman as stunning as you should be and reuniting you with the only thing left in your life wo
rth living for, you wanna say no, Ella?” His voice was no longer the soft, dulcet tones I’d come to love. He had been possessed by this world, by the evil that greeted you at the front door.

  I kicked my legs, but my weight was no match for his, fueled by lust and alcohol.

  “Can you feel that, Ella?” His erection pressed into me, and all I could was stare up at the sky, watching in slow motion as the rolling clouds passed by.

  “Can you feel what you do to me?” Knowing his weight kept me pinned beneath him, he used his free hand to roam down my body, clumsy, evil fingers groped at my thighs, pinched my nipples, and I’d never wanted to die so much.

  Screaming beneath his hand, I realized that he was done talking, he was going to take what he wanted, break me a little bit more. Because, why not, right?

  In one swift movement, he’d pulled my panties down my legs and used his barefoot to unhook them from my feet. The tears and rain never stopped falling, thunder boomed in the distance, flashes of lightning struck a few miles from The Mansion, and I prayed so hard it would strike me dead.

  And then his flesh was against mine. He was invading me and tearing me open. He took from me what he wanted, leaving me paralyzed by fear and heartbreak. Even as the blood trickled between my butt cheeks, I couldn’t feel the pain.

  He writhed on top of me, never moving his hand from my mouth, and took from me the last shred of hope I had. I had thought he was different.

  I had been sorely mistaken.

  Chapter Ten

  Jax.

  Keep the fucker safe. That was my new job. Keep the pig alive, and I may live until old age.

  It had taken hours to be shown how to work the CCTV in the office, told where I could go, who I could and couldn’t speak to, Benny, the Brit, asking questions at every fucking turn prolonging the entire thing.

  It was dumb fuck work. I already knew, after one day, that if Vladimir didn’t kill me first, then boredom would.

  Purgatory was impressive when you didn’t know what the fuck that meant. His home was beautiful, granted, but when he’d taken us downstairs and shown us The Cells, I was brought back to reality with a harsh slap. Girls. Eight terrified girls locked in each fucking one.

 

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