by Mason, V. F.
“Yes.”
“Good. Let’s go then.”
* * *
“Thank you,” I say to the cab driver when he parks the car. I give him the cash Paul stuffed in my hand when he flagged the car for me.
Exiting the vehicle, the corner of my dress gets stuck and tugging on it rips it a little. Then dirty water splashes on the white silk when I step in a puddle.
My nerves are eating at me as I count the minutes silently, trying to predict when Lucian will get his hands on me, and what he’ll do to Paul once he finds out, although the priest has reassured me I shouldn’t be worried and to keep my head clear to get to my destination.
Fisting the skirt of my long dress tighter, I rush inside the sliding doors of the airport as my high heels click loudly on the perfectly polished floor.
Instantly, humming fills the air, loud voices merging with one another as countless people run, creating an interesting chaos. I’m reminded of ants gathered around their anthill, trying to get inside before some invisible threat kills them all. Some of the people drag their luggage; others travel light with just a briefcase as a myriad of emotions play on their features, from happiness to pure annoyance, but they all have one thing in common.
Under no circumstances can they be late and miss their flights.
A voice on the intercom reverberates and snaps my attention. “Passengers flying to New York, please report to the check-in counter now. It will close in five minutes.”
A distressed whimper slips past my lips at this information. Clenching my skirt tighter, I hurry, my gaze focused on the counter several feet away. The AC billows air around me and plasters the tulle against my face, making it almost impossible to breathe—not to mention the coldness sending shivers through me. I have to roll my lips together so my teeth won’t chatter against each other.
Made out of the finest material that shimmers in the light, the veil brings attention to the bride’s face. The French designer sent me a personalized note singing praises to the groom who, according to him, is one of the most magnificent men on this planet.
When, in fact, he’s rotten and despicable from the inside, a monster who feasts on the flesh of the weak and displays no mercy to those who dare to go against his wishes.
A brown-eyed, charming devil who belongs in hell among the dead sinners, but instead he’s bestowed his obsession on me.
As long as I consider him a villain with no heart, the idea of reporting him to the police and running away from him forever, destroying any chances between us, will not bring me pain or mental anguish.
Shaking my head from the unwelcome thoughts, I gather my courage and focus only on the plane heading to New York.
For in my beloved city, he won’t be able to hurt me. I have power there and connections.
Grandmother would never let him harm me, and even Eugene might be on my side. Lila will cause mayhem once she finds out what Lucian did to me.
A little girl gasps, pointing a finger at me while several other people spin around to get a better look at the crazy lady running, but I hardly pay attention to their shock.
When a woman fights against a monster to escape her fate, she doesn’t have time to dwell on what people say or think because survival is her top priority.
Reaching the counter, I grab the veil and pull it over my head to face a rapidly blinking lady standing behind the counter. Her curious eyes sweep over me, studying the once-magnificent, silky wedding dress whose crystal accents reflect the light streaming from above and highlight the dirt smears and edges torn to shreds.
My appearance would have probably raised questions anyway, especially in the airport.
“I need to get on that flight.” I raise my finger in the air as the intercom once again reminds me about the closing check-in and how the plane departs in exactly an hour.
One hour. Sixty minutes. Three thousand six hundred seconds.
Enough time in which the devil himself might come after me, finding a way to trap me in his hell once again, because his power is absolute.
The all-too-familiar panic envelops me; fear sinks into every bone in my body, creating horrendous images in my mind while my heart thumps in my chest so wildly I’m afraid it might push through the skin and drop on the floor for everyone to see.
The air sticks in my lungs, and I gulp for a deep breath, fisting my hands so tight the nails dig into my palms hard enough to draw blood.
New York. You need to get to New York, and it will be over. Just get on the plane.
The words spoken to myself do nothing to soothe me though and only add gasoline to the fire spreading in my veins at the prospect of my future if this plan fails.
Because the alternative creates devastation and agonizing fear inside me, painting a future of being trapped in darkness with the demon who deems himself the untouchable king of the underworld.
I dared to run away from him, didn’t listen to the threat. Who knows how he might react or what he might do to me now that I’ve truly angered him?
What if he drags me to his dungeon?
Or worse?
Although, even to myself, it sounds unbelievable, but as we’ve seen in the last twenty-four hours, my judgments cannot be trusted.
She finally snaps out of her stupor, dropping her gaze to the computer as she types something furiously. “Of course.” She smiles widely, but then her brows furrow. “The only tickets available are in first class.” Regret laces her words when she adds, “We can get you on the next one. It leaves in four hours.”
I barely hold back a hollow laugh that wants to erupt from my throat at the thought of giving two hundred forty minutes to the monsters roaming Chicago to find me in this city and never let me go.
My mom once told me to never engage in a fight with anyone stronger than me, because I’d inevitably lose and end up hurting myself more.
Her statement proved to be useless, because true strength lies where we are brave enough to go against those who think all their deeds go unpunished.
Besides, death seems like a better alternative than eternal suffering next to him.
Even when the monster declares you are his queen and gives you all the riches in the world, it doesn’t change his nature.
After all, evil will always be a choice, and he drowned in evil a long time ago, sacrificing his soul at the altar of the greed it brings.
Otherwise, he would have tried to explain rather than preach about not craving or needing redemption.
“First class is fine.” Before she can ask for it, I place my ID and credit card on the counter.
She picks it up with one hand while the other continues to type, putting my information in the system. “We have an excellent clothing shop inside the airport,” she says without raising her eyes. “In case you’d like to change your dress.”
“Thank you.” That’s the first thing I’ll do once I have my ticket and go through security. This dress mocks everything that’s holy about matrimony and love, and it causes hives all over my skin, which reminds me of the man who proclaims himself invincible for all the power he holds among the elite… and even the law.
An elite that will side with whatever stupid story he decides to spin in his favor, as long as his madness stays hidden from the world.
Everyone already considers me weird. Will he try to say I’m insane and wield his legal power over me?
My family and friends though will stay on my side, and their combined wealth will squash anything he wants to do and put him where he belongs.
Behind bars.
I ignore the stab of pain in my chest at the thought or how Paul’s and Harold’s words still flash in my mind about him having a heart.
She opens her mouth to add something when she freezes, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, and she leans closer to the screen reading something on it. She musters up a smile for me that’s fake and grabs the phone, dialing a number as she mumbles to me, “I need to check something before we can finish this. Just a f
ormality.”
Warning bells ring in my ears, alerting me to danger lurking nearby, because he has probably already found a way to block my departure. Stepping back from her, I want to spin around and dash outside to find solitude among the empty streets before coming up with another plan.
Although this one already was created out of desperation. What other way would allow me to leave this city or even manage to call someone from New York to stop the deadly game he promised me should I ever dare to reject him?
A man who knows what he wants, he gets… no matter the price.
“Mi amor.” The deep, husky voice addressing me from behind stills everything inside me, blocking the world around me away and dumping me in a vacuum where the air doesn’t exist and only fear remains. It glides over my skin like the softest of ropes, awakening every hair on my body, before wrapping tightly around my throat, promising me all kind of retributions if I don’t listen to the silent command his gentle words represent.
Scrunching my eyes and clenching my skirt, I take a deep breath before slowly turning around to face the devil who ruined my life.
Because he decided that I belong to him.
A sinister smile curves his mouth as wickedness settles on his symmetrical features, alluding to forbidden desires swirling around him, bringing attention to his handsomeness that would rival those of Greek gods. After all, there isn’t a woman alive who can resist him or so people say. The icy coldness filling his brown orbs negates his male beauty though, and it sends shivers down my spine that fill me with discomfort, because unlike everyone, I know what his true identity entails.
After all, most villains wear mesmerizing masks of deceit designed to lure unaware souls into traps where they strip the sanity and goodness from their prey, feeding on their desperation and pain.
My feet stay glued to the floor, too afraid to move, because I might just collapse right here, and he would see the weakness slowly pouring into my blood, making me unable to fight against the decision he made when I refused to be tangled in his dark and twisted web.
He steps closer to me, his muscled form towering over me, and I gasp when he circles his arm around my waist and pulls me toward him, bumping our chests together, his masculine tobacco scent twitching my nostrils. “Mi amor,” he repeats, and I wiggle in his hold, trying to get free, but my strength is nothing compared to his.
I hiss at him, “I’m not your love, you psycho!” And I push at his chest, not caring how a crowd slowly gathers around us and security runs in our direction. “Let me go!”
An amused chuckle makes me want to claw his eyes out.
He catches my chin between his thumb and index finger, digging them painfully. “Mi amor, is this how you should treat your husband?” Hatred sparks inside me, erupting like a volcano and sliding through my veins. I can almost feel the bitterness filling my mouth.
Because, despite my emotions, I can’t argue how he refers to himself—the legal papers state as much.
“I hate you, Lucian.”
“Careful, gatita.” His eyes flash in warning as his hold on me tightens, and I still the groan threatening to slip past my lips. “Wise people say there is a thin line between love and hate.” His hand slides over my cheek, his knuckles grazing my skin in a featherlike caress that makes me nauseous. “And you will cross it, mi amor. Sooner or later.” Heavy footsteps come closer and closer, telling me the security guards are almost here. Maybe they will believe my story over the one this monster possesses, and they’ll find the courage to fight against his power in order to free me.
Hope flourishes in my chest, determination replacing my earlier fear, as I decide to use this chance to my advantage, only for hope to crash and burn when he leans closer, his hot breath fanning my face. He speaks into my ear so no one else will hear his despicable words. “I will never force you, mi amor. However, there are consequences to every choice. Are you willing to risk them?”
Dread crawls over me; familiar and beloved faces flash in my head, reminding me about the various ways this monster might hurt me without so much as touching me by instead focusing his rage on the innocent people whose only crime is being part of my life.
Thousands of crushed dreams, hopes, chances for a better future.
My freedom right now would mean imprisonment of those I hold dear to my heart. How could I live with that?
His revenge wouldn’t be subtle either, but vicious and ruthless in every way, making them all wish they had never crossed paths with me in the first place for all the devastation he would pour on everyone.
When he dished out his threat the first time, I thought that after he was put in prison, they would not come to fruition. However, this man wields so much power… my escape was a fantasy not meant to come true, and I was foolish to think I could outsmart him.
A raspy breath escapes me as a single tear slides down my cheek that his thumb quickly wipes away before he steps back, no longer trapping me in his embrace. Instead, he grips my hand, raises it up, and fishes two rings out of his pocket. A platinum band with diamonds wrapping around it, matching the one he wears on his finger and slides it on mine while slipping my engagement one right above it.
Settling his ownership of me once again.
The symbols of his possession feel unbearably heavy, but I barely focus on that as he presses his lips to my skin, the hotness of his touch burning me from the inside out. “Bienvenida a mi vida, mi amor.” He repeats once again his earlier words. Somehow this time around though, this statement sounds like the final nail in my coffin, trapping me in all this because he has left me no other choice.
You don’t have to physically force anyone, but push at them psychologically, and they will dance to your tune.
My world and heart shatter.
Because a monster disguised as a prince decided to marry me and trap me in his darkness.
Chapter Ten
“Sometimes goodness brings about the most vicious evil.
Because goodness is so easily accepted by people, evil converts it, polluting it until nothing bright is left.
So the innocent souls are trapped in it without a way to escape.
And sooner or later, hell occupied by the devil claims these souls, coating them in darkness.
Because only there do they find solace.”
Lucian
Lucian, 7 years old
Harsh wind slams into us, and we sway backward, our coats flapping in different directions as the cold air reaches our skin since our torn sweaters serve as little protection from raging Mother Nature.
The cardboard wrapped around our feet—instead of shoes—is soaking wet from the snow, and my toes are slowly freezing, yet we continue to power through it, almost reaching our destination. Even Andreas has gathered all his strength, because he keeps pace with me.
Snowflakes cascade down from the sky, settling on our bodies and melting so quick I open my mouth to quench the thirst present from such a long walk.
We’ve been on the road for hours now, first walking and then slipping into a train where people stayed away from us, too afraid we might touch them.
We took a temporary break near the fire created by a few homeless people who didn’t mind company, and we got warm while sharing the last bit of the breadcrumbs before resuming our journey.
A journey that still gave me hives as too many unknowns surrounded it. But losing an opportunity might have been too foolish because of my distrust.
Or so are the excuses I keep repeating to myself to justify my actions.
“We’re almost there,” Andreas says, excitement pouring from him as he increases his pace, grabbing my elbow and dragging me toward a small townhouse with a white door, identical to all the other houses on this street. “Javier, be polite please,” he warns, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Let’s talk for however long the man wants and then leave with our bellies full.” Hope laces his words as joy settles on his features, and such irrational jealousy sweeps over me, making me cry out in
side because I can’t feel it.
Hope. Joy. Happiness.
All these emotions mean nothing to me and only inspire hatred within me as they give a false sense of security, while in fact, it seems this world was created to solely torture me. So how can I hope for a better future?
Or is there a certain group of people who are blessed by the church and God himself, and all their pleadings are heard while the rest of us have to accept the reality?
Reaching the door, Andreas takes a deep breath and knocks on it three times while I look around, finding it a bit weird that not a single soul roams the streets, although the cold isn’t the most inviting weather. However, I’ve never in my life seen this secluded neighborhood.
When it opens, a man wearing jeans and sweater greets us, a smile shaping his face as his eyes glisten in surprise. He must be young because he still has no wrinkles. “Hello, boys,” he says, his voice holding traces of something I can’t name as he trails his gaze over us, studying us for forever before he steps back and opens the door wider. “Come on in.”
Andreas bows his head to him, ready to dash inside when I catch his elbow, watching the man warily. The familiar instinct inside me shouts at me to run far, far away from here because despite his friendly manner, a weird energy comes from him, and his continuing stare unsettles me. “Javier,” my friend hisses, pulling at his hand.
My stomach grumbles loudly, and the pain hits me, spreading uneasiness through me, reminding me that a few crumbs wouldn’t cut it for much longer, and Andreas’s eyes soften. “Let’s go.”
Finally, hunger wins my internal struggle and silences the scream urging me to protect myself from the unknown.
As we enter the house, warmth instantly envelops us, slipping into our frozen clothes and sends heat through us, prickling our skin.
The man looks at the wet cardboard and orders, “Remove those.” He opens a small drawer next to us and takes out two pairs of fluffy slippers. “These should keep your feet warm.”