Raven: Guarded Hearts Book 3

by Claire Marta

  Raven’s mind flipped through all the stories she’d seen in the papers. Human trafficking, slavery, the sex trade, pedophiles. Colin was using her child as some kind of bargaining chip.

  The wood above her creaked with her ex-husband’s weight, sounding like he was walking across her grave. “The first time I saw you was in a cafe. One look and I knew I had to have you. It didn’t matter that you were married and pregnant with Michael’s baby. That day, I swore you were going to be mine.”

  Raven froze, a sick sensation churning in her stomach. The first time she’d met Colin was at their company’s Christmas party when Michael had introduced them. They’d become friends while working together on a project. Now Colin was saying he’d seen her before that?

  “Michael loved to show you off,” he continued quietly. “There you’d be, on his arm, standing proud. I used to imagine him peeling off the dress you wore when you got home and fucking you senseless. Every time I saw you, I knew it should be me, not him.”

  “Colin…, what are you saying?” Raven questioned, her tone trembling with an answer she already knew but was frightened to hear.

  More noise came from above. Panting breaths filtered through the hole directly to her left.

  “I had him on his knees, Rae,” Colin murmured softly, so close to her ear, she flinched. “My gun against his forehead. He begged me for his life. Pleaded for me not to kill him. He offered me everything he had but he refused to give me you. Not even for one night. I had to do it. You’ve got to see that, Rae. You were mine, and he was in the way. One bullet and you were free.”

  “No, no, no!” A wail tore from Raven’s sore throat, fresh tears spilling free. “Jaysus, no, not my Michael! What did you do?”

  “Not my fault,” Colin swore, still close. “I did it for you, darlin’. With Willow gone, too, the last hold he has over you is ended.”

  He was insane.

  Sobbing, banging her fists against the coffin lid, Raven screamed out her grief and rage. Murderer. He’d killed her beloved Michael just to have her.

  “Boss, the Frenchman’s here.”

  Still lost in her agony and feelings of betrayal, Raven barely heard the other voice.

  “Feck.” Colin cursed beneath his breath when footsteps sounded on the stairs. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Her ex-husband’s voice was nervous. There was a thud and banging as he got off the coffin lid.

  “Where is the girl?”

  The newcomer’s English was flavored by a European French accent. There was something about his voice that made the hair all over her body stand on end. An icy hand of fear crawled over her in its wake.

  Any hope that this man might help her died a swift death. He had enough resources to track Colin to his safehouse, which meant that he was as bad or worse.

  She had two monsters—not one—to deal with.

  “You’ll have her,” Colin croaked, the fractured timbre of his voice betraying his emotions. Whoever was here was a man to be feared.

  The Frenchman was skeptical. “I was promised her hours ago but you failed to supply her.”

  A tense silence stretched.

  “I just need some more time.” Colin’s voice was shaky and uncertain. His plea fell on deaf ears.

  Footsteps paced from one corner to another. “I do not like being disappointed,” the Frenchman tutted. “There are too many frustrations in life and in death.”

  “What… what are you doing?”

  Raven frowned at the shock in his tone. What was happening up there? Edging carefully, she peeped through an air hole. She could see Colin above her and, towering over him, the top of a blond man’s head. An arm hooked around Colin. Plucking him up as if he weighed nothing, the Frenchman carried him to the bottom of the stairs.

  “No!” Colin cried, the sounds of struggle reaching her ears. All Raven could do was listen in horror, helpless to prevent what was happening out there.

  “You think you can screw with me?” the Frenchman hissed.

  Fabric ripped, like clothes being torn. Colin cried out in panic. A short struggle was followed by grunts, whimpers, flesh slapping flesh.

  “No, stop, please!” Colin pleaded.

  The Frenchman’s laugh was pure malice. “You fuck me, I fuck you. Maybe I give your whore a little show. She can be next. Want to watch me fuck her, hmm?”

  Raven lay shaken, listening to her ex-husband being abused. This was the monster he’d planned to give Willow to? She knew Colin wasn't into men but he seemed truly terrified of this one. The normal swearing and abuse he shouted at his goons were markedly absent.

  “Did you have your fun already?” the other man panted, driving in hard enough to make him squeal. “Did you fuck her? Hit her? Even if I didn’t see your bruised knuckles, I know your mind. You bâtard. You did. You beat her. Bruised her. You ruined her before I got here. You know I like them unblemished.”

  Colin sobbed, “I’m sorry.”

  “Empty words,” the Frenchman snarled. “On your knees. I will fill that mouth of yours.”

  Colin’s pleas for mercy morphed into a groan.

  “Open wider and take it,” the Frenchman told him. There was a strangled sob, Colin gagging, the liquid sounds of oral sex, forced to give the Frenchman a blow job. “I want to fuck your throat, then bury myself in your tight little ass and fuck it raw.”

  Raven held her breath, heart racing in panic at the thought of what might happen to her next. Once he’d had his fun, would his attention turn to her?

  Something slammed down on top of the box she was trapped in. Glancing out of her peephole, Raven saw Colin, arm’s distance above her, forced onto his hands and knees. He grunted when he was rammed forward, his face screwed in agony, his eyes wild.

  “I’m going to make an example out of you, Colin Burke,” the Frenchman spat. “Make you my little bitch to show the others who they are dealing with. You're playing my game. The rules are mine, not yours. Not anymore.”

  Colin was shunted forward again and again. From his squeals and whimpers, it was clear he wasn’t getting any pleasure from the coupling. At last, the Frenchman hissed between his teeth and grunted.

  A satisfied male moan echoed around the room.

  Slumping sideways, Colin disappeared from view. Raven caught sight of blond hair. Worming away from the hole, she bit down on her lip and thought wildly. Remembering the nail file in her pocket, she managed to fish it out and clutched it in her fist, prepared to come out fighting if he opened the lid.

  “Mon petit oiseau,” the accented voice crooned. “Did you enjoy the show?”

  There was a pause.

  The Frenchman clucked his tongue. “Do not be shy, mon petit oiseau—my little bird. After all, this is the last conversation you will ever have. Your ex-husband will not be staying with you but I promise you will see him again soon. He’ll be joining you in death.”

  A tiny whimper escaped Raven’s throat. Dread shrouded every inch of her, a paralyzing fear keeping her frozen in place.

  “It is not a pleasant thing to be locked in a box. Your mind breaks first, madness seeping in through the cracks. Then your stomach gnaws away at your insides with starvation. Thirst blisters your throat. You’ll try to claw your way out until your fingers bleed. Delirium will feel like a blessing until you slip away.”

  “Please.”

  It was barely a whisper but he must have heard it.

  “If only you were as special as your daughter.” His sigh was heavy. “But you aren’t. What a waste. You are a vessel, nothing more. Not what I need. I will have such fun with her. Show her that the dark is so much better than the light. Ma petite fille. I’ll be there to whisper nightmares in her ear while she sleeps.”

  Eyes overflowing, tears tracked down the sides of her face to wet her hair. “No! I won’t let you touch my baby! You can’t have her, you monster!”

  “Do not weep, mon petit oiseau. It will only be a few days at most, maybe a week. I will come back and vis
it you. Hmmm, would you like that? I’ll have a pretty dress for your bloated corpse. Perhaps I will bring her with me. Give her the chance to put one last kiss on your forehead before we put you in the ground. A final goodbye.”

  “No, let her go,” Colin murmured, shuffling coming from his direction.

  “You didn’t bring me the girl, so now you don’t get your toy,” the Frenchman chided. “So greedy.”

  Raven heard movement. Colin cried out. Risking a look, she saw her ex-husband looming above her, the top of the other man’s head close to his. Were they kissing? She couldn’t see clearly from her position. Colin’s hands snaked around the blond man’s broad shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Legs giving out, he sagged downward with the Frenchman, crumpling into a tangle of limbs.

  The man raised his arm as high as his head. Colin’s body blocked her from seeing his face, but it looked as if he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Rising, he dragged Colin up by the neck as if he weighed nothing.

  “It is time for us to go, mon petit oiseau. I would leave the light on, but being in the dark will help the madness come quicker and you must enjoy every moment of it,” the Frenchman crooned. “Do not hold back the screams. I want to hear them while we leave.”

  The heavy metal door above her was slammed shut, the bolt drawn into place. Muffled steps headed for the stairs. Raven kept her attention on the light outlining the shape of the door above her.

  No, no, no.

  He couldn’t leave her like this!

  Plunged into stygian darkness as black as the Frenchman’s soul, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Pounding her fists, she gouged her fingertips into the rough wood, deepening the trenches that others had dug. She was going to starve to death, before or after she went insane. What kind of sick psycho was he? Colin was evil, but the Frenchman was in a league of his own.

  Raven listened, ears straining, hearing nothing, probably imagining the sound of a distant engine starting and the crunch of gravel under tires. Alone in the dark, she prayed for her daughter, calling on St. Brigid, her patroness, and St. Michael, protector of women and children, to keep Willow safe if God hadn’t abandoned her, too.

  Placing her palms on her abdomen, she talked to her baby. Imagining it was a boy, she told him the story of her life, about growing up in Ireland, meeting Michael, coming to America, reconnecting with him here, and making a life together. She told him about his sister, her Peter Pan child who might never grow up.

  Might never grow old.

  Given a choice, she’d rather see her daughter happy and safe with a Fae prince who treasured her than in the hands of the Frenchman sworn to snuff out her light.

  She told her tiny promise about meeting his fathers, how they’d danced with her. How she’d been swept off her feet and into their arms and they’d made a miracle happen. She never thought to have another child. There was so much she wanted to teach him. So much she wanted to show him. So much she had to learn along with him, carving an existence in the brave, new world that secretly existed within the walls of the Citadel.

  Raven told him about the members of the cadre. Their superior Tobias who’d revealed himself to save his sister. Fiery Casey with her mates Malik and Iosefa. Sweet-tempered Morgan, Aiden, and Zac. The Persian poet, Zana, who seemed smitten with Darcy, and his stoic German partner, Lukas, who tended to blend into the background. Scholarly Emmett and artistic Theo. The Caribbean gardener Elijah and their French chef Gael. And then there were his fathers, Killian and Cayden, sons of Eire and Alba, who could speak her native tongue.

  She started using it, telling him things in English, and translating into Gaelic. When she ran out of things to say, she grew quiet, falling into hopelessness as the minutes stretched into hours. When madness threatened, she started singing songs from her childhood, learned at her mother and her Nanna’s knees. Despite the dryness of her mouth and her growing dehydration, one tune flowed into the next and the next while silent prayers went out for herself, her baby, her daughter.

  “Find us,” she whispered and kept on singing. With luck, like King David and his harp, music would drive the demons of madness away.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Not knowing what they would find, they stocked the SUV with a full change of clothes and emergency supplies—water with electrolytes, food, a first aid kit, blankets, and a pillow. Anything that Raven and their babies might need to make her comfortable on the return trip and help them recover from their ordeal.

  While the vehicle was being loaded, Tobias had Zana pull up a satellite image for Calodin to make them a map. Watching through his falcon’s eyes let him recognize turns and landmarks and pinpoint the house where she was being held.

  Where she still was—

  Although everyone else who’d been with her was gone. According to the Fae, they’d driven away as they were finishing up in the infirmary.

  Tobias and Calodin took off in the SUV, flying low and hopefully under the radar of law enforcement officers. Posted speed limits were ignored. They were on a mission from God and trusted that they’d be protected.

  Killian spread his wings and took to the sky with his brothers, soaring over the SUV, keeping it in sight until they were close enough for Killian to latch onto Raven’s fear and follow it. Racing ahead in the moonlight, he spotted a flash of white in the front yard of a remote country home. Willow’s stuffed unicorn had been tossed away and lay abandoned, waiting to be rescued, too. Landing, he plucked it up and ran to the house, breaking down the front door and barreling inside.

  Raven was here, somewhere. He just had to find her.

  The trouble was, her fear was so great, it filled the house, echoing from every wall and creating a massive tangled knot that he’d still failed to unravel when Tobias and Calodin came in. Everyone was searching, outside and inside, but no one had found her yet.

  “Where is she?” Killian bit out in frustration, coming to a standstill. He’d ripped every room apart. There was no sign of life. Nothing at all.

  “You still sense her?” Tobias questioned.

  “Aye, but it’s so strong I can’t get a lock on her.”

  Theo and Emmett trooped in through the broken front door, their matching expressions anxious.

  “There’s no sign of her outside,” Theo told them. “We searched the trees and the buildings we could find for a mile or so away.”

  But she was here. Killian clutched the fluffy white unicorn in his hand tightly, staring down into its eyes. This was impossible.

  Rising his chin, he glared at Calodin. “Is there magic involved here? Some kind of spell that’s keeping us from her?”

  The Fae shook his head. “No magic…”

  Raking his free hand through his hair, Killian thought he had lost his mind when he heard singing. It was faint at first. Barely a whisper and muffled. Wherever it was coming from, his sensitive hearing strained to capture it. He couldn’t make out words, just the hum of a voice.

  Dropping to one knee, he placed a palm on the living room carpet. “Do ye hear that? The floor is singing.”

  Emmett huffed, pushing his glasses up the ridge of his nose. “You're starting to sound like the Fae here.”

  Silver eyes widening, Calodin nodded and moved to kneel beside him. “Yes, I hear it, too. Some kind of spirit may be trying to make contact with us. Let me see if I can talk to it.”

  The prince closed his eyes, his expression intense. Everyone stood watching his still form while he tried to reach out to whatever was with them.

  A shriek broke the silence. “Oh, God! It ran over my foot! It touched me, it touched me!”

  The members of the cadre turned to see big hulking Theo freaking out over a small gray mouse. Leaping from one foot to the other, he practically jumped into Emmett’s arms to escape the tiny creature.

  “He means you no harm,” Calodin chided, opening his hand so it could scamper onto his palm. “He heard my call.”

  Killian stared down at
the big black eyes and twitching nose. If it lived here, it knew what had happened. A new hope swelled in his breast. “If ye can speak to it, ask him what he saw. See if he knows where we can find Raven.”

  Lifting it to his ear, the Fae cocked his head to the side, listening intently to the squeaks. The whole room seemed to hold its breath. Everyone was waiting to hear what it said.

  “The kitchen,” the prince announced excitedly. “He says there’s a button that opens a hidden door.”

  Calodin set the mouse down. They followed it into the kitchen and found it sitting up with its front paws in the air by the island. Feeling the underside of the countertop, Tobias triggered a release that sent the island sliding to one side, revealing a set of secret stairs.

  Tobias eyed them cautiously. “Three of us at most. Emmett, Killian, with me. The rest of you, surround the house and keep guard. Just because no one is here doesn’t mean they won’t return. Stay alert.”

  Killian thrust Angus into Calodin’s hands to free his own and rushed down into the dark. Hitting the bottom step, he was momentarily blinded when the overhead light burst on. The basement walls were smooth, unfinished concrete. The air was cool with a hint of dampness. A metal bolted door on the floor was the only thing the room contained.

  No.

  Stunned, Killian stared at it in growing horror. Wiping his mouth with his knuckles, he felt his stomach lurch with nausea. What had that bastard done to his mate?

  Faint sounds came from behind the door in the floor. He sprinted to it, calling, “Raven! It’s Killian! Tell me where ye are, love!”

  “Here! Down here!”

  Her rusty voice was music to his ears, as sweet as a choir of angels. He ripped back the bolt and heaved the door open.

  A box.

  Colin had put her in a wooden box, built shallow and long in the shape of a coffin.

  “Raven? Darlin’, we’re here. Ye don’t need to be afraid anymore. Willow’s safe. Darcy’s safe. Prince is safe. And now you’re safe.”

  “Thank God,” she breathed. “Thank you, Jaysus.”

  Throat thick with emotions, Killian eased the lid open, not wishing to scare her. He held his breath, frightened by what he might find.