by Mason, V. F.
“Two years.”
“Do they come after you every day?” His voice sounds so robotic, so unemotional… so detached. As if he’s asking me about the weather or some common stuff, not about men who will rape us.
“Mostly, yes.”
“Okay,” he murmurs, and he closes his eyes, chanting something in a language I don’t understand.
“Don’t worry, Callum. We’re here now to share the burden,” Santiago pitches in, resting his hand on his knee in a careless manner.
When they brought me here, I screamed and thrashed and begged for mercy, promising to do anything as long as they would let me go. I cried and prayed for escape. These two guys do none of these things, just accept what has happened at face value and act like it’s no biggie.
Just what do you have to experience in the past to have such a casual reaction to everything?
“There is no escape from here,” I feel the need to add for some reason, and Santiago smirks, nodding.
“And that’s why we don’t fight. Destiny.”
Destiny, what a funny concept.
The three of us will soon discover that destiny has a funny way of making itself known, changing the course of our lives forever.
Giselle
“Are you insane?” I shout into the night, rising up and breathing heavily while Callum clacks his tongue.
“Giselle, is it wise to call your future husband that?”
“You are not my future husband!” I scream, stepping away from him while my heart continues to gallop inside me.
Marry him? That’s been his plan all along?
He nods, finishing his bottle and placing it on the grass. “Well, that depends on your choices, true. But something is telling me you will say yes.”
“I won’t ever marry you.” Maybe the whiskey has made him delusional, but stuff starts to add up in my head.
How he pursued me relentlessly, arranged everything in my life so we’d meet often… how quickly our affair escalated, and how he always stayed close after our first night together.
He introduced me to his staff and friends, allowed paparazzi to snap pictures of us, and always joked whenever anyone asked about our future plans.
And now he’s taken me to his island… to… Oh my God. “You wanted to propose here.”
“Smart girl,” he murmurs and nods. “You stuck your nose where you shouldn’t have. I’d organized the most romantic beach proposal. Straight from the movies.”
I fist my hands, reining in the desire to hit him in the face and break his nose to wipe away his cocky look. “And then what was the plan?”
“Giselle, from you, I want marriage. Everything else… does not concern you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, confused as hell with this statement. If his agenda was marriage to me, doesn’t it mean I was his prey all along?
But based on how he phrases it, it almost seems like I’m a means to an end, a pawn he’s using to win a bigger war.
Then it hits me, and I sway a little, dropping back onto the chair as a cold sweat breaks out on my skin. “Childhood traumas,” I whisper, going through all the information I have on that in my head and notice how he becomes stone-cold still. “Of course.” Then I stare at him, focusing on his features so I’ll be able to detect any fraction of emotion. “My family did something to you in the past, right?” He meets my stare head-on and doesn’t even blink at my words. But it’s the only thing that makes sense, putting all the blocks together in my head. “That’s your revenge, right? Marrying me to get into the family and punish them?”
God knows my grandfather is a bad man who destroyed a lot of lives. It doesn’t surprise me that one of them came for revenge. Because he didn’t even spare me, I can imagine what he’s done to strangers. Not that it excuses Callum’s serial killing tendencies, but at least it sheds light on the whole marriage thing.
Callum rubs his chin. “Giselle, your imagination has gone wild.” I blink in confusion. “I don’t want to punish your family. I want to punish mine.”
“Yours?” I rasp, my mouth dropping in shock. “But you have no family.” He told me his mom died a long time ago, and he never knew his father. One friend of his parents took him in and helped him out, or that’s the story he fed me. Was it another lie?
“Well, I do, but they abandoned me. It’s time for a little revenge.” He chuckles as if finding it hilarious.
“Everything we’ve been is a lie. Do you even love me?” The question slips past my lips before I can stop it, hating myself for showing him this weakness.
“I don’t know what love is so the answer is no.” And his reply breaks something inside me, the part that thought there was someone who loved me above his own selfish desires.
But life has never been that generous to me, has it?
“This marriage won’t happen. I will never marry a serial killer and a man who uses me to dish whatever revenge he thinks of.” I lift my chin, wrapping the pashmina tighter around me. “A man like you should be locked behind bars.”
“You won’t be sad if I go to prison?” he wonders aloud, and emotions flash in his eyes, but it’s so quick I don’t catch what they are. “I’d give you visitation rights.”
“Oh, I’ll come to visit.” I lean forward so he can see the truth reflecting in my gaze. “Just to congratulate you on getting everything you deserved.”
“I thought you loved me?” he asks, and his words sink into me due to the tone. A tone that should be cold, but instead is… what is that freaking tone? I’ve never heard it from him, and it unsettles the part of me that still has feelings for him. It wants to soothe him and apologize for my earlier statement, but that’s so ridiculous I don’t want to even examine it.
“My love died when you killed that man,” I say and spin around, going back into the villa, but his words cause me to stop.
“You always have a choice. But think carefully about Darius and Isla. I don’t take rejection kindly. And the collateral damage will be them.”
I cover my ears from his words, hating them, hating him for putting me in this position, and then I run back into the house despite the sting in my foot.
I came out to breathe in some fresh air and settle my mind. Instead, I met the devil and he dished out his ultimatum.
Hades who managed to trap Persephone.
Accepting this marriage is not an option.
Refusing him is not either, because a man capable of such violence will kill my loved ones in a heartbeat if I don’t comply with him.
What choice does he leave me?
Reaching the room, I drop near the bed, and for the first time, I allow the tears to come as I silently weep into the night for the love I thought I had… and lost. And for the life I was about to choose to once again protect the people in my life, sacrificing myself for the greater good.
Walkers don’t cry, Giselle.
My grandfather’s voice echoes in my head, and I wipe away my tears, letting that statement play over and over again. For all the evilness that is in him, he taught me one important lesson. Walkers don’t cry, indeed. No, they pretended through and through, presenting a façade to the world that believes their every lie.
And that lesson will be my salvation.
I’ll pretend and smile… be everything Callum wants me to be. Until I find a weapon to destroy him and end this fairytale turned into a nightmare once and for all.
This Persephone won’t live in the underworld, surrounded by sorrow.
No, in our story, Hades will be forever trapped there alone.
A soulless creature who feeds on the misery of other people.
I lie down on the bed and close my eyes, hoping to silence the voice in my head that reminds me this Persephone loves her Hades.
And love might destroy them both in the end.
Callum
Scratching the ear of the puppy jumping on the chair next to me, I wonder what to do with him. After Lina, I can’t help but pick up all
those stray dogs around whenever I can and let Magnolia find homes for them.
Letting him stay here with Magnolia seems like the best choice though. She’ll spoil the dog like no one’s business and will have some company around.
Marrying Giselle has always been part of my plan. But wanting her with everything in me while staking a claim on her? That has never been part of any plan, but sadly for her, it only attached her to me.
And soon, everyone will learn why it was always my birthright to claim her.
Fate, after all, is a fickle thing.
Chapter Eighteen
Callum, 14 years old
Santiago, Artem, and I walk down the hallway of the spacious house, our bare feet slapping against the cold marble while Jonathan continues to bitch behind us. “No one wants to do a job here, right? What am I, a nanny to collect you all from different rooms?” We don’t react to his words, used to his bullshit at this point, and continue to stroll to the basement while passing various guards holding guns and saluting Jonathan. “Edward has to raise my pay for this.”
Yeah, like the fucking coward will ever voice that. More like he’d bend his ass over and allow him to fuck it, before he questions his salary and Edward’s method.
Better to die of infection in the fucking basement than live a life like Jonathan.
Santiago though can’t resist saying, “Then you should definitely raise that in your next meeting.” The blow to his head comes swiftly, but Santiago doesn’t even flinch, just smirks.
In the last three years, I’ve learned this guy is completely mental and finds everything amusing. He never behaves like a normal human being, always antagonizing everyone and their mother.
While keeping a fucking smile intact. “Shut your mouth, Santiago, if you want to eat today.”
Artem elbows him, hinting to listen, because we need food to survive. We’ve already starved for three days after his last joke on Edward, which ended with punishment and starvation.
“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you,” Jonathan warns as we come closer and closer to the basement door, his keychain dangling loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. “Soon, you’ll be too big for them to enjoy. Already so fucking tall.” The last words are said so smugly I’m surprised his teeth don’t fall out from such a wide grin. “And then you all will be dead or…” He rubs his chin, musing, and then adds, “Or he can sell you to some whorehouse. Depends on his fascination with you, I imagine.”
Fascination. The minute he says it, I want to wash away the word from my memory, because that’s what Edward always murmurs into my ear while he fucks me.
You are my fascination, Callum. Those eyes and lips… I can never resist you, because you are my greatest temptation.
This time, Artem’s elbow digs into me, bringing me back to the present, and I nod in acknowledgment. The last thing I need is to give any kind of satisfaction to the man. “We will see what fate has in store for us.”
His eyes narrow at my reply, and he stops abruptly, pulling at the chains holding us all together, and we stumble back, hitting each other in the shoulders and wincing, since our skin still has fresh wounds that leak blood.
“You think since you are his favorite toy you can talk to me like that?” he shouts, and then slaps me on the face with the key, scratching my cheek while continuing to scream, “Ungrateful assholes! After everything I’ve done for you.”
Give me a fucking break. Even starvation can’t stop the fury rising within me now. “Done what? Chained us and sent us to be raped? Yeah, fucking thanks.”
“You piece of shit.” He raises his hand but freezes midair with it, and his eyes glaze over before he groans, grabbing for his heart. “Call someone,” he whispers, leaning on the wall and slowly sliding down it. “Call someone,” he says again, but none of us move, because quite frankly….
He can die for all we care.
And then we watch as his eyes slowly roll back while he exhales his last breath, dropping on his ass while his head hangs to the side, dead.
“Heart attack,” Artem concludes, his voice void of any emotion.
Santiago and I share a look before shrugging it off. We’ve gotten used to Artem’s random medical facts he spouts at us whenever something hurts. He’s usually the one to tend to our wounds with a medical kit we have with us in the basement.
Artem kneels in front of Jonathan and presses his fingers to his pulse, while his other hand forcefully opens his eyes, checking something. “Yep, dead.” He glances at us over his shoulder and announces, “Who wants to call the guards?”
Our collective, barely audible laughter fills the space, but then Santiago steps closer, dragging me with him since the chain is attached to him, and reaches for the keys in Jonathan’s palm.
He quickly opens our chains, and I rub my wrists, not used to having them off for the first time in five years. Santiago snatches the knife and gun from him too and passes me one.
My brows rise. “What do you want me to do with it?”
“Shoot or stab, I assume.” His mouth curves in a smile, and he winks. “We can kill the guards.”
I’m not sure what’s scaring me more, his excitement or the cold-blooded tone he uses.
As if it’s not his first time doing it.
“There are five guards inside, and then some in the garden.” Over the years, Edward has allowed us monthly walks under strict supervision. We would go out to the maze-like garden in this huge-ass property with different designs and the weirdest flowers.
An iron fence surrounds the place with several more guards, and we never see any other kids. Jonathan once got drunk and spilled that other kids are in a different chain, handled by some John guy, whoever the fuck that is.
Edward just brings us here, because we are his and his favorite clients’ most beloved toys.
“You’re talking about running away,” Artem says and gets up, stealing the knife from him and tapping on the tip with his finger. “We need to kill them before they raise the alarm.” He rubs the tip now on his chin, not even drawing blood. “So we need—”
“The remote,” I say, because the only time we saw a car driving away from here, the guards used remotes to open the gates. Which probably was a better option than keys.
“Roccko has a remote.”
We frown at our memory of the beefy guy who has muscle after muscle on his body and stands next to the gates, because killing him in our condition and without training is impossible.
I glance between the two of them and notice something about their energy that I haven’t seen before. Even though they try to hide it by glancing to the side and pretending to dwell on the idea, I see one emotion flashing in their eyes.
Hope.
It’s so bright it almost blinds me.
How can they hope for anything after the life we’ve led?
But at the same time, isn’t it the opportunity I’ve begged for since the very beginning of my fucked-up life?
“I’ll handle Roccko if you can arrange everything else,” I tell them. If they can escape, I’ll gladly help them. That’s why I don’t mind being killed by the guy.
“Well, I don’t think—”
Whatever Santiago wants to say dies on his lips as he’s interrupted by the loud, almost deafening siren echoing through the entire house.
Fire alarm.
Giselle
Opening the door, I peak into the hallway but see no one around. Sighing in relief, I step outside and rush to my room, because I have no clothes to change into in this guest room. “Wow,” I mutter when I notice the mess from last night has been cleaned up and everything shines under the bright sunlight.
Magnolia must be back, making sure her boss doesn’t leave any traces behind.
I grab my small suitcase and roll it to the bathroom, locking the door behind me and checking it a few times.
The last thing I need is company here.
Catching my reflection in the mirror, I groan loudly at the messy hair,
puffed-from-crying eyes, and the general picture of misery I present. “Just what I need!” I can’t allow myself to wallow in self-pity anymore, because no one is going to come and save the princess from the castle.
This princess has to handle it herself.
And for that, I have to look like a normal, well-put-together human being to be able to play in this game as an equal with him.
Turning on the water, I pin my hair on top of my head and step inside the shower stall, groaning once the hot water cascades down my back and loosens some of the tight knots.
If only it could wash away all the dirt I feel stuck to me after discovering the truth and complying with the order.
When my eyes snapped open earlier today, I saw a blue folder on my nightstand and knew Callum had visited me during the night. I flipped it open to see a full report on Darius’s and Isla’s lives, from their family history to their favorite milk brand.
He had various photos of them with implications that he is always aware of their whereabouts. The message was loud and clear. If I choose my freedom, it will only take the snap of his fingers to harm them.
I won’t be fast enough to save them. Which means I have to be smart and find evidence on him and expose him during the wedding preparations. Grandpa and Isla will be by my side, and he won’t be able to do anything.
Justice does exist in this world; sometimes, it just takes time to get it.
The sound of the shower stall door screeching snaps me out of my thoughts, and I spin around, yelping when I see Callum standing in the steaming bathroom wearing a suit. “Get out!” I shout, but he raises his brow, crossing his arms.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked.”
Humiliation sweeps through me as I cover as much of my body as I can with my hands, and repeat, “Get out.”
He sighs and grabs a towel, extending it to me. “If you insist on being modest. But it’s too late to close the barn when the horse already got loose,” he states while I snatch the towel, wrapping it tightly around me. The steam is still rising, since the water is running, and the humidity in the air doesn’t lift my mood one bit.