by Mason, V. F.
Copyright © 2020 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: Hang Le
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Cover Model: Josh Mario John
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
Epilogue
Psychopath’s Prey Excerpt
Also by V. F. Mason
Acknowledgments
Contact
Prologue
Take me to the land where sinners atone...
Where the sun shines brightly and nightmares don't come.
There, your death is not the price you have to pay,
And the devil doesn't require your soul in exchange.
Take me to the land where sinners atone...
Where one is allowed to cry from despair.
There, people don't judge you by your past,
And loved ones believe you, no matter what.
Take me to the land where sinners atone...
Where love means more.
There, you can’t take it back,
And your soulmates don’t turn their backs when you burn in hell.
Take me to the land where sinners atone...
Chapter One
“Life is cruelest to those who least expect it.”
Phoenix
Phoenix
“That’s the last time we’ll make you an offer. My advice… take it. The only reason it’s even on the table is because you saved my wife’s life,” the DA says, pushing the paper in my direction as I stare at it numbly, hating this office more and more with each passing second.
The clock ticks loudly in the office, grating on my nerves with tick tock tick tock as if mocking me for taking my time when my destiny is already decided.
Reminding me that my entire life depends on the decision I’m about to make, that time is running out, but how can I sign the paper that will forever destroy me?
The DA huffs in exasperation, adjusting his glasses on his nose while giving me a stern look that reminds me nothing of the man who paced the hospital hallways while I ran several tests on his wife’s brain during my last year of psychiatric residency. I noticed a pattern. She had been diagnosed with schizophrenia for years, but it just didn’t fit with all the results until I found out the other doctors had made a mistake, and all the hallucinations she kept on talking about were caused by the tumor hidden in her brain.
My lawyer painfully nudges my side with his elbow, snapping me out of memories, and I shift my attention to him.
He is a bald, middle-aged man wearing a black suit that’s too tight and scuffed leather shoes that have seen better days. His briefcase has several holes; it’s a wonder it doesn’t fall apart.
Mr. Rick drums nervously on the table, clearly fed up with my behavior, and who could blame him? He got assigned to me by the state of New York, none of the famous lawyers wanted to work with me. As one of them told me, it would have been social and career suicide. Even my very own lawyer, who promised to stand by me through anything, refused me.
My very own lawyer being my husband.
No one wanted to protect a cold-hearted murderer.
Or so everyone thinks about me anyway.
He addresses me, his voice void of any emotion as always, although I don’t miss his upper lip curled in disgust whenever he looks at me. “Ms. Hale, this way you will have ten to fifteen years instead of life without parole. They have the best lawyers in the world; not to mention, everyone is on their side. The judge and jury won’t let you out of that courtroom a free woman. Especially considering you are not confessing. So why would you put us through that hell for nothing?”
“They” being the Kings, one of the most influential families in the world, whose net worth varies from ten to fifteen billion dollars. They’ve made it their mission to punish me as much as possible.
They think I deserve it for killing their precious daughter-in-law, the wife of Zachary King.
A day won’t go by that you won’t regret what you did. Prison is just the beginning, Phoenix.
His words echo in my ears anytime his name comes up, and his haunted, green eyes show up in my mind.
What worse can he do anyway? He already took everything I loved from me and stepped all over it before burning the foundation of my world.
I have only ashes left from the life that one night so carelessly shattered.
Clearing my throat, I speak through the soreness. “I didn’t do it. Why does no one listen to me?” My words are barely audible, but they’ve heard them nevertheless, because both exhale heavily. Yet their silence is an answer on its own, isn’t it?
That’s the reaction I always get whenever I try to defend myself, silence that might as well have been a scream, deafening me from the intensity of its hate.
Fisting my skirt in my hands, I wipe my sweaty palms on it and wonder how the material has changed in the last six months.
Most of my clothes got destroyed when Sebastian tore them all apart, shouting that he never should have believed me, then packed his belongings, leaving me alone in our luxurious penthouse.
A few days later, I got divorce papers through his lawyer; the love of my life, who had promised me the world, wanted nothing to do with me.
Puff.
Just like that, the fairytale got shattered.
And I have only one worn-out suit to wear.
“Phoenix, you have no evidence to back up your statement. They do, but I believe you.” A surprised gasp slips past my lips as I raise my eyes to the DA, and he smiles sadly. “That’s why I’m telling you to take the deal. You’re twenty-nine years old, your whole life ahead of you.”
I barely hold back the hollow laughter that threatens to escape me, because simply put… from now on, I have no life.
Zachary King took it from me.
But despite what everyone believes, and shouts in my face that I’m better off in hell for what I’ve done… I still want to live, desperately. Maybe to prove to people I don’t deserve all their accusations, even if evidence points at me.
And how foolish is that?
With trembling hands, I pick up the pen and sign the paper, the scratching sound echoing in the room and putting the final nail in my coffin.
I’m a survivor of many things, but even survivors know when to give up.
Chapter Two
“L
ove happens only once in a lifetime. And as such, I will destroy the one who took it away from me.”
Zachary
Zachary
Fisting the railing of the balcony tightly, I watch the beach as the sunset slowly touches the water, covering everything in overpowering beauty that humankind just can’t recreate no matter how much she or he tries.
Seagulls squawk loudly above my head, while the light breeze softly touches my cheek and reminds me once again of my unending loneliness.
“Why so serious, Mr. King?” Angelica muses while dancing in the ocean and motioning with her hands for me to join her. I shake my head, still mesmerized by her beauty, and wonder how it’s possible such a perfect woman became mine.
She laughs loudly, the sound like the richest and finest music in the world to me, and then dashes into my arms, splashing water all over us. She captures my mouth in a kiss, while her whole body plasters against me.
My once-in-a-lifetime love.
Glancing down at the glistening golden band on my finger, I caress it softly, wishing she were here with me, teasing me about how the man who vowed to never marry proposed to her on the same beach.
Angelica, my angel.
With deep sadness crushing my fucking soul comes the fury boiling my blood, demanding I wipe out everything in my way.
Taking my phone from my back pocket, I dial Zeke’s number. He picks it up on the third ring. “When is the hearing?”
There is a long pause, and then he says, “They offered her a deal. She signed it.” The curtains fly in different directions as I step inside from the balcony to the room, pressing the phone tightly to my ear while the information soaks into my brain.
No fucking way!
“She got what?” I ask, barely stopping myself from breaking the phone in my hand, and I don’t hear him correct me.
Instead, there is a loud sigh on the other end of the line. “Zachary, I don’t know how, but the DA granted her the deal. She will be in custody for ten to fifteen years, but my guess is around eight. Usually, that’s when they start to appeal for earlier parole.”
The beast roars inside me, needing blood-filled vengeance and getting nothing.
The murderer of my Angelica will get only a few years behind bars… and then what? Will she have the ability to live happily ever after? Like what she did doesn’t matter and can be forgotten?
Is he out of his fucking mind?
“I hired you, because you are the best.” My voice turns stone-cold and detached, as I flick a lighter in my hand. “I see the error of my ways now.”
“Zachary, there is not much we can do in this situation. Besides, this whole case seems really strange to me, but you don’t want to see—”
I have no time for his excuses or bullshit. If people can’t deliver the best to me, they are not worthy of my time or money.
“If you can’t ask for an appropriate punishment, I will.” As always, I shouldn’t have relied on the judicial system this much; some things a man just has to handle on his own.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I don’t answer, and he changes his tone from exasperated to concerned. “Don’t do anything you will regret later, Zach.”
Regret? Never.
Phoenix Hale killed the woman I love, my wife, my only salvation in this dark world.
My best friend.
No price she can pay will be enough for me. I won’t rest until she bleeds to death on the floor of the prison, begging for forgiveness, and even then, I won’t grant it to her.
From now on, her life will be a living hell, a never-ending nightmare that will make her regret ever crossing my path.
I’m Zachary King.
And what Zachary King wants, he gets.
Chapter Three
“There is a saying that hell is not some mythical place below, but instead, hell is on earth, as people are punished for the primary sin.
The devil lives among us all.
I never believed it… until I crossed paths with the wrong man.
If the devil has a human form on this earth… it’s Zachary King.”
Phoenix
Phoenix
The heavy footsteps echo in the hallway as we walk through it, my hands full of the things given to me by the federal prison. The guard breathes heavily behind me, with each huff of her breath indicating how much she hates me.
According to her, such creatures as me, who kill people in a car accident and then act like they’re innocent, deserve nothing but suffering, and even prison isn’t enough.
Apparently, death row is the most appropriate place for us, so we won’t commit shit like that once we are out.
She managed to spit on my face before anyone saw it, and by the glint in her eyes, I knew to keep my mouth shut or risk getting into even bigger trouble.
Besides, it’s nothing new.
In the last six months, I had tomatoes, bananas, eggs, and sometimes even stones thrown at me with loud screams of how well I sleep at night after what I’ve done.
In today’s society, you don’t need to do much to earn their hate, then if you kill a beloved woman and the news spreads all over the world…?
That woman being the famous ex-model who participated in various charities and helped found organizations to help sick kids?
You are forever done for.
And who cared about people if Sebastian stood right along with the Kings during the hearing, paying me no attention, but whenever his crystal-blue eyes landed on me, they’d be full of disgust that hit me so hard I sometimes forgot how to breathe.
In this whole world, he was my only family and my salvation in the dark, a man who promised to fill all the voids created by my parents who left me on the doorstep of a church with a letter of apology. They couldn’t handle having a child.
Ironically, this very man proved to me that blood is thicker than water, and at the end of the day… your friends, husband, and colleagues will side with society, leaving me to rot in this hell alone.
Maybe if I had a family, everything would be different, but life has taught me that what ifs bring nothing but pain.
I’m so deep in my thoughts I don’t notice the door right in front of me and bump my head on it, then step back to rub my forehead.
The guard behind me snickers, pushing me to the side, and I stumble a little while she takes out her keys, their ringing sound grating on my nerves, and inserts it inside the lock, informing me, “Life here won’t be a fairy tale, Phoenix. Not to mention, you got the room with the most dangerous criminals here.” I stay silent, averting my gaze and willing myself not to listen to her or allow fear to sink into my bones at the prospect of facing all these people. “Keep your eyes wide open.” With this, she opens the door and roughly pushes me inside, the uniform in my hands almost slipping through my fingers, but then I stand straight when I see three women staring at me, each of them wearing the same orange uniform.
I almost face-palm myself, because what else are they supposed to wear?
“You have a newcomer, ladies. Enjoy.” She shuts the door, the metallic click of the lock cementing my stay here. I quickly assess the people around me, knowing that every detail matters.
Like finding the leader of the pack who has the power to either make you or break you.
One of them is blonde, her hair barely reaching the tips of her ears while various tattoos cover her neck and arms. She is taller than me by probably two inches, and her cold, brown eyes scan me from head to toe before she glances in the direction of the older woman sitting on the bed, her dark hair made in a thick braid. The older woman has tan skin with several large veins on her neck, and the same number of tattoos grace her skin. By how her chest rises and falls rapidly though, I think she is short of breath. When was the last time she had her heart checked?
Stop it.
I hate how my doctor instincts awaken whenever I see someone in need of medical help. It’s hard to tune out something that has been a constant in your life for
the last ten years, ever since I joined med school at the age of nineteen due to being way smarter than the average kid.
She must be the leader though; it’d explain the challenge in her eyes, almost daring me to screw up so she’ll have an opportunity to showcase her dominance.
“Name,” she says, but it sounds more like an order.
I lick my lips, tightening my grip on the clothes. “Phoenix Hale.”
The older woman clicks her fingers several times before addressing the third woman who stands next to her, her bold hair and pale skin covered in piercings and tattoos, yet her violet eyes stay unreadable. “Remind me, Haley, what do we know about this name?”
She waits a beat before answering. “Hit-and-run accident involving Angelica King. The evidence showed she was drunk. The woman died from the wounds almost instantly.” My heart pangs painfully as she lists my crimes with her detached tone, each word like a sharp knife stabbing me in the chest, because it paints me like such a monster.
Horrible human being who deserves the worst, because she doesn’t have compassion or a heart.
Except that’s not true—or at least I think it’s not true—but no one wants to listen to me. I sometimes wonder, what if I imagined all my excuses, and in truth, I did what people accuse me of?
But such thoughts are even scarier and more hurtful than the betrayal of my friends and husband, so it’s easier to believe in myself.