Devils: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance: (The Brotherhood Book 2)

by K. M. Raya

  Papa never raised a hand to me personally, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that changed. I’ve seen that man beat men, women, and children alike. He’s a monster. There’s something in Mama’s voice that sets me on edge right now. It’s like she’s trying too hard to reassure me that nothing is amiss.

  There’s a loud bang over the other end of the phone, causing my breath to catch. “What’s going on right now, why did you call me at three in the morning?” I whisper, not really sure why the need for it since I’m not with her physically.”

  It takes a few agonizing moments for her to respond. “I just wanted to hear your voice. I have to go, bella. Don’t call this number again. I’ll call you when it’s saf—when I get the chance,” she corrects herself. I know what she was about to say, but before I have the chance to argue, the line goes dead.

  Running my hands through my hair, I pull on the blue strands in frustration, leaning my forehead against the rough brick wall. Mama’s so stubborn… possibly stubborn to a fault. I know something’s wrong and she’s just not telling me. There’s a reason she chose right now to call out of the blue. Mama doesn’t do anything without reason. I know in my heart that she’s in danger.

  I turn around again, scanning the dark parking lot, but still I see nothing. It feels foolish to be so paranoid, especially given the fact that I haven’t heard or seen anything to give me the idea that Sal might have caught on to my location. When we left six months ago, the guys made sure there was no trace or trail. Captain has connections I never ask about, and somehow, we made it to Canada before anyone could come looking.

  I take a full two steps back towards the staircase when the phone in my hand vibrates. Every muscle in my body locks up. Squeezing the small device in my shaking fingers, I don’t even want to answer it. Everything inside of me says to chuck the thing in the nearest dumpster and run… but without knowing what’s going on with Mama, this phone is my last lifeline.

  Reluctantly, I answer the phone. Silence greets me, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. There are no soft sounds, no breathing or clicking… just silence. “Who’s there?” I ask in a rush, only to be greeted with more quiet. “I’m hanging up now…” I mutter, hands still shaking.

  “Tsk tsk, is that any way to address your Papa?” I feel weightless and heavy at the same time. I can’t breathe right, and I don’t know if I should. He could be anywhere. He could be watching me. If he found this number, his resources are probably more advanced than I’d given him credit for.

  “Bella, are you there?’ he chuckles, his low timbre rolling through me, sending shards of ice through my heart. That voice is deceptive. It’s the sound of the man who’d tuck me into bed at night and kiss me on the forehead, only to turn around and order his men to beat me the next day for training. It’s the voice of a man who kills for sport, and occasionally for money. The voice of a man who sold my sister like one would sell property, in exchange for a new business deal.

  “I’m here, Papa,” I whisper, sounding like the little girl I always feel like in his presence. Even now, thousands of miles from my childhood home, I can feel his aura looming over me—crushing my body and my spirit under his blood-soaked fist.

  “Ah, there she is.” His Italian accent is thick tonight, strained with the rage I know is lurking inside of him. But yelling isn’t Salvatore Valentino’s style. He’s maintained a calm and collected sort of fury over the years. It’s something many mob men have honed carefully, because often times it’s more effective than yelling or screaming. I’ve personally been on the receiving end of that silence. I’ve watched him slice a person’s throat with utter indifference while still managing to discuss business with the person next to him. Never once have I seen even a spark of something human in there.

  “How did you find me?” I clip. My hands are shaking as I roam my eyes over the barren parking lot. I hear nothing but the howling of wind.

  Papa chuckles darkly. “If you think I haven’t known exactly where you were from the beginning, then you’re a fool, Angel. You’ve had your fun, but now it is time for you to come home.”

  Fear strikes me clean though my chest. “I—” I struggle to breathe a word, but my throat closes up as bile churns in my stomach.

  “Here’s what you’ll do. Listen closely because I will not repeat myself.” His tone leaves no room for argument. I couldn’t even if I tried. “Beneath the staircase you’re standing in front of is a small pouch,” he says. I turn and duck, narrowing my eyes though the shadows of the building that blocks out the moonlight. Sure enough, there it is. A small black bag sits at the base of the stairs.

  “Inside you will find a phone. Do not open it, I will know if you do. You will take it and place it in your bedroom, and then you will gather the few items that mean anything to you. You will get in your car and drive to the address I am sending you right now.” My phone beeps with a text. “Be there in under thirty minutes, Angel, or you will not like what happens next.”

  I blink vacantly, letting his words sink in. Overcome with dread, I manage to stifle the tears building in my eyes and ask, “Why Papa, what have you done?”

  He laughs again. His laugh is gruff and evil—oozing like tar through the phone and into my ear. I bite the inside of my cheek until blood fills my mouth. “You and your Mama have turned your backs on family, piccolina.” He sighs heavily. “It’s a shame, you and I could have done great things… you had so much potential inside of you, but you chose to throw it all away for a few handsome faces and empty promises.”

  “That's not—” I try to defend myself, but he just cuts me off.

  “I do not care for excuses, daughter, you know this already. If you fail to heed my instructions, your Mama will pay personally for your failure. I do not wish to lay a hand on my own wife, but I’ll not excuse this insolence any longer. You forget who I am and what I am capable of.”

  “How long?” I ask. I sound defeated—because I am. He’s got me in a metaphorical chokehold. He knows I’d do anything to keep Mama safe, the same way I tried to keep Sofia safe all those years ago. He knows my weakness and he’s not ashamed to use it against me even if it means holding his own wife hostage. Like I said… he’s fucking evil.

  “You’ll do this now. I have no patience left to offer you, Angel. If you are not in position in the next thirty minutes, you will be held solely responsible for what happens to your Mama.”

  My entire body quakes with fear and hatred. I want to argue. I want to plead my case, but I know anything I have to say will fall on deaf ears. He’s been playing with me this entire time and I didn’t even know it.

  “Another thing, before you do as I say… not a word of this to your little boyfriends. You leave alone.” The line clicks off. He’s leaving no room for argument.

  I don’t even give myself the time to stand around scratching my head. I just jump into action. Snatching the little black bag from the ground behind the stairs, I reach inside and grab the little black flip phone before racing back to the apartment. Quietly and on nimble feet, I slink back through our small townhome, gritting my teeth the entire way back to my bedroom. I stop in the hallway near our laundry closet, opening it up to remove a comfortable black bra and a thick pair of socks from the dryer. Slipping the garments on, I crack my bedroom door open and tiptoe over to the bed before slipping on a pair of running shoes laying off to the side.

  I’m wasting precious time as I stand here, staring down at Carter and Captain. Neither one of them has moved from the spots I’d left them in only a few moments ago. My eyes rove over the hard angles of Carter’s tanned face. His mouth is relaxed in sleep—making him look more vulnerable than he lets anyone see during waking life. Longing shoots through me as tears spring to my eyes. My fingers shake, clasping the traitorous phone tightly and I squat down to the ground.

  My hands slip between the mattress once again, this time planting the second phone where the last one previously hid. I hadn’t meant to keep the other one a sec
ret for this long, but I knew the guys would disapprove of me contacting Mama in the first place. I knew it was risky when I bought the thing. I knew I was placing all of us in jeopardy, but something inside of me could never cope with not knowing if Mama was okay. Just hearing her voice every few weeks had been enough to ground me in reality. I don’t know what’s on this fucking phone, but I know it can’t mean anything good for me. Papa doesn’t do anything without motive behind it, but right now I don’t have the luxury of choosing.

  After placing it, I slowly lower the mattress back into place. I stay squatted to the ground, low enough that my face is now level with Cap’s, but his face is still buried in my pillow. He breathes steadily, and it takes all of my willpower not to reach out and run my fingers down his spine reverently. With a shake of my head, I pull back and get back to my feet. Slinking out of my bedroom for the last time, I don't even bother looking back because it will just make this harder than it needs to be.

  Despite my body tugging me towards the two closed doors at the end of the hall, I force myself to bypass Holden and Ellis’ bedrooms. I can’t risk them waking up and spotting me. It would ruin everything and put my Mama at risk. I know Papa said I was allowed to bring personal items along with me, but for some reason I just can’t bear it. Everything that means anything to me in this world is back in those bedrooms, sleeping soundly without suspicion that they’re being betrayed right under their noses. As I bypass the living room where we all made love only hours before, I almost become violently ill. But I shove that feeling down deep and make my way over to the safe in the dining room. With a few clicks, it opens up for me to reach inside and grab my little handgun—the one I’ve kept close since I was just a girl. It’s the only thing aside from the clothes on my back that I allow myself to take.

  As I walk out the front door for the last time, I let hot tears trail down my cheeks. They’ll never forgive me for this, I know that. But as the lock clicks behind me, I know it’s for the best. Securing my weapon in the waistband of my pants, I make my way out to my car on quiet feet… not looking back, not even for a second.

  Holden

  I can’t find her anywhere. The gym is filled with the usuals, but there’s no sign of Angel. Usually she goes straight for the running track that circles the top of the weight room by now.

  I’ve scoured the building without any sign of the blue haired woman who drives me crazy in a way I’ve never known. For some reason I can’t explain, my heart speeds up in my chest and my stomach tightens. She could just be late, I know this. Count on Angel to get distracted, especially giving the fact that she shares an apartment with four men. Men who gladly fuck her at every available opportunity. She could have easily gotten caught up again in another shower with Ellis or stuck lazing around in bed with Carter…

  But something in my heart tells me that's not the case this morning. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but I distinctly feel a strange sense of… loss. That’s the only way to describe it. The last time I felt this way, it was when my parents left and never came back. My grandfather had told me they were on a vacation, but in my childhood heart I knew he was lying. There’s a change in the air that’s probably not meant to be perceptible to a regular person. I mean, technically there’s no physical reason I should be feeling this way… but something’s changed. There’s an emptiness that hadn’t been there before. There’s an uncertainty that makes me want to grind my teeth.

  Jogging over to Donny, who’s standing over at the front desk looking through papers, I ask him if he’s seen her today, but he just says no, and that she never showed up for her session this morning. Dread fills my stomach. Slipping from the stuffy room, I make my way to the locker rooms, bypassing the occasional body builder or street rat, just looking for a place to get away from the horrors of their personal lives. This place is a haven for people on the run. I think that’s a part of what drew Angel here in the first place. She’d spoken to Ellis about wanting to start her own gym. In her head, she probably thought that training women in self-defense was some sort of way to cope with all the bad in her early life… but a part of me thinks she wanted it to relieve her own guilt. Not that I think she has anything to be guilty of.

  Angel opened up to us that day six months ago—the day before the world fell apart. She told us about how she was raped in her father’s house by one of their own men, and how her fifteen-year-old self was forced to handle it like a woman well before she should have. I still shudder when I picture what my girl had to go through. Despite the fact that the bastard had his brains blown out, I’d give almost anything to bring him back just to kill him again… this time slowly. Or maybe I’d leave that part to Ellis. He always was the one with the darker nature.

  I dial Carter as soon as I know the locker room is empty. He answers on the first ring as usual. “Yeah?” is all he says in a clipped tone. It doesn’t surprise me, Carter’s a man of very few words no matter his mood.

  “Is Angel still at home?” I ask casually, though the way my chest aches I’m anything but casual.

  He’s quiet for a moment before answering. “No, she was gone before I woke up. Why, what’s wrong?”

  I sigh and run a hand over my face. I knew he’d know something was up immediately. My Brothers know me better than I know myself sometimes. “Nothing, man. I just… she was supposed to be at the gym already, but she’s late. I thought maybe you were… distracting her.”

  Something shuffles on the other end of the line, sounding like footsteps on a hardwood floor. Carter’s pacing, and that never means anything good. “Well she’s not here, and El and Cap and both upstairs alone.”

  Something ugly blooms in my stomach. Something curdling and sour. “Stay there, I’m on my way.” I click the phone off and rush from the room and out to my car.

  ✽✽✽

  “I don’t get it, I didn’t even feel her get up this morning,” Carter grumbles, running his hands through his messy hair as he sits on the couch with his elbows on his knees. He looks over at Cap. “Did she say anything last night?”

  Cap shakes his head. “I was dead to the world after that session, man. But it's weird.” He frowns. “She’s usually loud as fuck in the morning.”

  I smile, but it lasts just a second before morphing into a frustrated grimace. Worry fills me. She’s never just disappeared before. She’s always left a note, or a text, or something behind. Something just feels really fucking wrong and I don’t like it. The four of us usually take turns watching over Angel, even though we know she hates it. I know she’s a grown woman and can care for herself as well as the rest of us, but I think after the way it all went down back in Seaside—all the crazy shit we put her though, we all feel a sick sort of guilt, and the need to make sure that nothing hurts her ever again.

  Ellis hangs up his phone and walks further into the room before plopping down on the couch.

  “Anything?” I ask hopefully, but he just shakes his head.

  “Nope, nothing. Finley says her car’s GPS was deactivated sometime last night.” He growls under his breath. “I don’t fucking get it, why the hell would she go out of her way to do that? Where would she go?”

  I can’t give him an answer, but I refuse to think the worst.

  “Did she seem off last night to anyone else?” Cap asks the room. All eyes flicker to him in confusion. He holds his hands up in defense. “I just mean did she seem weird… or worried about anything?” He looks to me. “You picked her up from the gym yesterday, did you notice anything?”

  I shake my head. “No, not really. She was sparring with that Hannah girl, and then we got some coffee before coming home, but nothing out of the ordinary—she just seemed tired and maybe a little… sad.”

  They guys all frown to themselves. “She wouldn’t have done something dumb and gone after Hannah’s stepdad, would she?” Ellis asks.

  No, that doesn't sound like something she’d do. She wouldn’t have put the girl in danger like that, especially not without backup. I
shake my head again. “Nah, no way. She’s the one who asked me to tone it down with the whole stalking thing anyways.”

  It’s been three hours since I got home, and we searched her bedroom for any clues to where she could have gone. All of her worldly possessions seem to be in place, even her clothes, shoes and jackets are still here, save for a pair of runners I know she favors over her others. We sit here now in the living room scratching our heads as we agonize over what to do.

  Out of nowhere, a small sound filters through the silence of the townhome. The hairs on my arms raise, because this particular tune is not recognizable in the slightest. We’re on our feet in moments, the four of us rushing to the back of the house—following the strange noise until it leads us straight to Angel’s bedroom.

  Carter tears in ahead of me, going straight for the mattress. Reaching down, he flips it up and off the platform, allowing the wailing sound to grow louder. A small black flip phone sits in a hidden spot, vibrating in place as the shrill music comes to a stop. We all stare at the offensive device, at an utter loss for words. The thing starts to ring again.

  “Fuck this—” Carter snaps, before snatching up the phone and bringing it to his ear. “Hello?” He says nothing for a solid thirty seconds. Clicking it shut with a curse, Carter looks up with a frown and fury in his eyes. “They hung up.”

  Reaching out, I gesture for him to hand me the phone, and to my surprise and relief, he does before he has the chance to crush the thing in anger. I flip it open, watching as the screen lights up with two previous missed calls. The numbers are private, but Fin will have no problem tracing them when we ask him to, but for now I click around until I find the messaging app. The guys crowd around me, all straining to see what's on the screen. My eyes widen as I struggle to comprehend what I’m seeing.

  There are texts on this phone dating all the way back to seven months ago. There must be hundreds of them. Some contain pictures as well—pictures of me—pictures of the other guys, all in random places, doing random things in public. The messages are outgoing, filled with coordinates, updates and some Italian phrases that I can’t hope to decipher. Something sickening churns in my gut the more messages I try to read.