Callum’s Hell

by Mason, V. F.

  Copyright © 2019 by V. F. Mason

  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.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Design: Sommer Stein

  Photographer: Wander Aguiar

  Cover Model: Alex

  To the power of love.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Chapter Twenty-One

  22. Chapter Twenty-Two

  23. Chapter Twenty-Three

  24. Chapter Twenty-Four

  25. Chapter Twenty-Five

  26. Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Lachlan’s Protégé

  Acknowledgments

  Also by V. F. Mason

  Contact

  Prologue

  Giselle

  Fisting the skirt of my red ballroom dress, I run toward the garden, my bare feet barely making a sound in the perfectly cut grass that scratches against my skin.

  My brown locks cascade down my spine and blow back from the wind as the veil coronet made of orchids and roses entwined together slides a little, tugging on my hair.

  A mark that forever stains me.

  I hear him call out behind me, a deep and husky voice that haunts me in my dreams and catches me in my nightmares.

  Stifling the groan of pain, I speed up, ignoring the protesting screams from every bone in my body.

  Stopping means losing, and losing means dying; those are the rules in his twisted game we’ve been playing for so long I’ve lost count of time.

  I pass by various bushes, trees, and lush flowers with scents that surround and slip into my nose, reminding me that my love for them became my ultimate downfall.

  It’s a shame something so beautiful is smeared in dirt that no one will be able to clean.

  I gaze ahead and finally see the gates, wide open and waiting for me just to fly through them to my freedom. Like the gates of Hades that hide the monster living in the underworld.

  Those who stay here burn in the fire of his creation.

  My breathing heaves. Drawing on all my self-control, I continue to run, even when he shouts louder behind me, “Giselle.” There is a note lacing his voice that I don’t recognize, yet it sends a shiver down my spine, reminding me that no one goes against his will and lives.

  But any freedom, even in death, is better than the prison he has created on earth for me.

  A slight smile curves my lips when I reach the concrete, my feet slapping against it while the heat in it burns my skin, but I don’t care.

  Not when I’m so close to escaping this hell.

  The monster lives in the castle of his own creation after all; he won’t be able to follow me.

  My hand is extended, ready to touch the gate, when a gunshot echoes in the night sending the birds flying up in chaos, squawking loudly as they are snapped from their calm.

  The air hitches inside my throat, and I freeze on the spot, my raspy breath filling the night. A sharp pain travels from my lower back through my entire system as dizziness overtakes me.

  I fall on my knees, groaning in agony while the gates in the distance become blurrier and blurrier, taking me farther and farther away from my escape.

  “My back,” I murmur, barely finding the strength to utter those words. I reach behind me and then look at my hand, noticing blood coating it. “He shot me in the back.” The minute the words slip past my lips, I hear his hurried footsteps and he drops beside me, his hand fisting my hair and bringing me closer to him, until his cheek is resting against mine.

  “What have you done, Giselle?”

  I stifle a whimper and hold back the tears that yearn to slide down my cheeks and wash away the hurt he always inflicts.

  Hades caught his Persephone once again.

  And just like in the myth, he will lock her away from the world and make her live permanently in his hell.

  Or so I think.

  Slowly, all my strength leaves me as I slip to the side, right into his arms. I exhale carefully, the pain so strong I’m afraid to even breathe. But in all this craziness, a smile settles on my face, because the nightmare is finally over.

  No one won.

  No one lost.

  In this twisted myth of his creation, no one got what they wanted, and that’s probably the most tragic story of all.

  Chapter One

  New York, New York

  Present

  Callum

  Exhaling into space, I inhale the rich smell of the breeze as it fills my lungs. I lift my face and let my head rest between my shoulder blades, allowing the wind to ruffle my hair.

  Without opening my eyes, I sip my morning whiskey and the sweet taste of it fills my mouth, sending a burning sensation through me while Beethoven continues to play in the background, almost taking me back to my college years.

  Where classical music and knives were my saving grace from the past that followed me like a trail.

  And finally low, barely audible whimpers that come from behind me remind me that although I’ve played all night long… the fun is not over yet.

  Ah, heaven.

  Or in my case… hell.

  Sighing heavily, I glance to the side at the man holding tightly onto the banister of the balcony as he swings side to side in the wind, trying to get his feet on a solid surface but fails, tears streaming down his face. The blood drips from his forehead and nose, his knuckles turning white as they slide a little on the metal from the weight of his body. Even he seems shocked that he has this much strength left.

  Several bruises cover his face and neck. His blue shirt and pants are soaked wet from sweat and urine.

  Men these days cannot take punishment properly it seems, or at least I haven’t met anyone brave enough yet.

  Tsking, I lean between his palms and rest my elbows on the railing, exhaling smoke into his face. He coughs a little, still keeping his hold though. “Dan, Dan. You are persistent,” I say with boredom in my voice. Victims rarely awaken any other emotion inside me, especially in the final stages.

  His eyes widen as he licks his chapped lips. “Callum, please, just shoot me.”

  “Shoot you?” I place my hand on my chest and sigh dramatically. “Who do you think I am, Dan?”

  He groans, squeezing the banister tighter. “Just kill me already. I don’t want to die like this,” he whispers, his mouth trembling as if this has any effect on me.

  Why would I care about someone’s suffering?

  Their pain brings me nothing but pleasure after all. “Hmm…” I rub the tip of the cigarette over my chin, furrowing my brows. “So you’re saying I should shoot you instead of watching you fall from the twentieth floor
?” He whimpers, choking on the blood coming from his forehead, and I take a deep pull again. “Not gonna happen.”

  “I’ll tell you whatever you want. All the information. Everything. Just don’t do this to me,” he pleads, and that’s when one of his hands slides to the side and he cries out, ready to fall before I grab his wrists, holding him in a firm grip.

  Hope blossoms on his face, his mouth almost curving in a smile, but it’s quickly replaced with dread when I speak up. “You know what the difference is between me and you, Dan?” I push forward so I have his full attention on me. “I’m a serial killer driven by the desire to make you suffer. And you were always driven by greed.”

  “Callum—”

  “Bye, Dan. We’ll meet each other in hell.” Before he can utter another word, I swiftly let go of him, and with a loud cry, he plummets down, his body becoming a blurry spot, and then with a loud thud, he hits the ground and a pool of red blood surrounds him.

  Too bad I’m not able to see his brain splattered on the ground.

  Blowing the beautiful sky filled with all its morning glory a kiss, I walk back into the apartment through the white curtains blowing in different directions and pick up the remote, pressing button number nine.

  Instantly the flat-screen TV located on the opposite wall turns on, giving me the perfect view of the dark-haired creature who sips her morning coffee in her kitchen while humming a tune to some song.

  Dropping onto the couch, I hike my feet up on the coffee table and continue to drink whiskey while various ideas play in my mind, one after another.

  She is so happy, ready to marry her fiancé in two weeks, not knowing what truly awaits her in the near future.

  They say you have to wait for the right one to come along.

  I decided to kidnap mine instead.

  Chapter Two

  Giselle

  “So, is Lucy coming to the party?” Isla asks, not even trying to hide the distaste in her voice, and I sigh heavily, adjusting my leather bag on my shoulder as I enter the lobby.

  “Isla.” I give a little wave to Hendrick, the doorman, and he graces me with a grin, already having the elevator ready for me.

  I step into it, pressing the button for the seventh floor while Isla continues to bitch through my phone. “Oh come on, girl! I wouldn’t have had the courage to face you after the stunt she pulled, but apparently your heart is all forgiving.”

  “Her intentions were good,” I say, already exhausted with this conversation, because I know it will lead us nowhere.

  Isla snorts into the phone, and I hear a box rattling. She must be going through old cases once again. Lately she’s been trying to find a certain serial killer but without much luck. “Please, she knew the consequences. If I were you, I’d cut her—”

  “Isla.” Even though the only word to leave my mouth is her name, she pauses, knowing full well that some subjects in life are sacred.

  Like my baby sister and me forgiving her for all the awful stuff she’s done through life. “Fine,” she finally replies and changes the subject. “Wear something sexy. I have crazy plans for you.”

  “Do whatever you want, but no strippers,” I warn, but she’s already hung up on me, and I chuckle, because facing strippers tonight is probably a done deal.

  The elevator arrives on my floor, and I quickly rush to my apartment, excitement building inside me at the prospect of having two more hours to have a nap and be ready for my bachelorette party. I stop near the door, grinning like a fool.

  In two weeks, I’ll be married to the most perfect man on this planet.

  With this thought in mind, I twist the lock of the door and barge inside, pondering if I need to call Kevin and check on his plans for tonight. I know some of his friends wanted to go to Vegas, but he refused, claiming to be too busy to have wild parties before the wedding.

  He has been working a lot lately, which resulted in him barely being home. We haven’t lived together, so we’ve rarely seen each other this past month. Maybe he’ll have time to see me before the party tonight?

  I’m searching for my cell in my bag, when weird sounds from within the apartment snap my attention, and I still while my heartbeat speeds up.

  Nobody should be home.

  My brows furrow and I listen carefully, hoping it’s only my imagination, but the strange, whimpering sound comes again, and this time I know it echoes from the guest room.

  Is Lucy home and watching TV? That’ll be a first for her.

  Or did she bring over some strange dude she met just hours ago to have wild sex? Considering she’s been licking her wounds since her last breakup, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was it.

  With dread filling my heart, I grab the nearby vase just in case there are strangers inside and slowly walk toward the room, while the sounds become louder and clearer with each step and remind me nothing of whimpering anymore.

  More like the satisfied moans a woman makes while having sex.

  Finally I reach the door, which is slightly ajar, and although I recognize the other voice and realization slams into me with such force that I need to lean on the doorjamb… I power through it and place my hand on the wood, pushing it wide open.

  A shocked gasp slips past my lips while instant pain slices through my system, and the ringing in my ears almost blocks the outside world away.

  Blinking rapidly, I pray all this is just a nightmare and I’ll wake up soon. But the seconds pass by, and the image still stays the same.

  They haven’t even noticed me. Lucy continues to pump her hips up and down accompanied by Kevin’s groans with her thrusts. She rests her hands on her breasts and moans loudly.

  “Fuck, nothing better than your tight pussy, babe,” he grits through his teeth, nipping on the index finger she pushes into his mouth.

  “No one’s? Even Giselle’s?” she asks breathlessly, and my stomach flips from the prospect of his answer.

  “The best I ever had, Lucy.” He closes his eyes as they roll back, and he digs his heels into the bed, probably on the verge of coming as he squeezes her hips, making her ride him harder.

  How would he know about my pussy, if he never had it? That last thought runs through my mind, when the vase slips from my grip, shattering into tiny little pieces.

  I find my voice and speak up. “My last class was cancelled.” My voice is dead, completely lacking emotion while I process this information.

  My fiancé is cheating on me with my little sister, a sister who I consider my friend. Despite her occasional outbursts, she is still one of the closest people to my heart.

  How can she hurt me like this?

  They both freeze, their heads turning to me as if on command, while shock is reflected on their faces. “Oh my God!” Lucy shouts, as she disconnects from his body, making him wince. She quickly covers herself with the white Egyptian cotton sheets I bought for her so she’d be more comfortable in my house.

  How ironic, really. She clearly had Kevin to use as a blanket.

  Kevin jumps up swiftly, muttering, “Fuck.” His erect cock bobs in front of him as he puts on his pants with lightning speed. “This isn't what it looks like,” he finally says, threading his fingers through his hair.

  A humorless laugh escapes my mouth. “Really? Because it looks like you’ve been fucking my little sister behind my back.”

  He takes a step toward me. “Giselle.” His eyes plead with me to listen to him, but is he insane?

  There is nothing to explain here. I saw the living proof just seconds ago.

  Shaking my head, I inch back as it becomes harder and harder for me to breathe, and I long to gulp for air, but hold back… barely.

  They don’t get to see my turmoil, the devastation they both have cast on me with their deception.

  Of all people, I never expected Kevin to be the one to betray me.

  Perfect guys, my ass.

  Guess even the most perfect guy can’t be trusted when it comes to my sister. “Giselle.” Lucy’s lips tremb
le as tears slide down her cheeks. “We never meant to hurt you.” She sighs heavily, her thumbs jerking. “It’s just happened.”

  Just happened? Give me a fucking break!

  “So you accidentally fell on his dick and decided to ride the hell out of it?” She winces at my words and opens her mouth to add something, but my raised, splayed hand stops her. “I don’t care about any explanation. Both of you, get out of my house. You better not be here when I get back or I’ll call the cops.” Then for a brief second my gaze shifts to Lucy, to her flawless beauty, while her emerald-green eyes water, but it doesn’t move me.

  I’m afraid nothing else ever will. “And call your parents.”

  She whimpers, but I’ve had enough of this scene and spin around, darting toward the exit while tears threaten to escape and the pain skirting on the edge wants to erupt in a loud scream of betrayal.

  With clarity in this moment, I understand that even though I’ve dreamed about happily ever after my whole life, it’s not in the cards for me.

  Once in the hallway, I don’t control my tears anymore and allow them to fall freely, probably leaving black mascara smears in their wake. My heels click loudly on the marble, with each tap alerting me to the painful loneliness that slowly sinks deeper and deeper into my heart.

  “Giselle, please listen to me!” Kevin calls somewhere behind, and I hear heavy footsteps, but he must be still inside the apartment.

  I ignore him, hurriedly reaching the elevator, pressing several times on the button, and willing it to come faster to take me away from this hell I’ve encountered.