by Mason, V. F.
His father was an asshole who beat him a lot and degraded him in public. He spent most of his days wishing for the old man to die so he could get his inheritance. He ended up falling from the second floor and breaking his neck, so Alec got his wish.
He was an okay guy, although very clingy and had violent tendencies that didn’t really fly with me, yet he behaved better than Andreas who he worshiped.
He fell in love though, and that changed everything for him.
Marina, that’s what he called her. Although I’ve never seen her, she consumed his thoughts, and he lived and breathed for her.
She even called me once, needing something, but when I showed up at Alec’s penthouse, she was nowhere to be found, and he just lay on the couch with a headache and bottle of whiskey by his feet.
We had a falling out a year later when he tried to interfere with one of my takeovers, and a good employee of mine was injured in the process.
“Why was he allowed inside the property?” I ask Harold who gets quiet and then replies, his voice even more frantic now.
“He said you guys made up, and he attended the party last night. He had an invitation.” Everything inside me goes cold, a realization hitting me while I squeeze the handset hard, cursing.
A killer.
Marina.
Was it Evangeline?
“Lila called and said the whole thing was canceled, so I’m very worried now, Lucian. He took her.”
Emotions threaten to overpower me, agony building in my chest at the thought of my woman being kidnapped by the murderer who destroyed her life.
I didn’t protect what’s mine, and now she must be terrified while he executes whatever plan he has for her.
And the whole fire in my company?
The perfect decoy to get me out of the house and ambush her all alone without any weapons to protect herself.
One. Two. Three.
I mentally count to ten, gathering all my strength while squashing the man inside me who loves the woman, and drag up the monster residing in my soul who craves to sink his claws in the fucker who scared and dared to touch what’s mine.
Emotions cannot rule me, as emotional villains do not save the princess.
They lose them.
Think, Lucian, think.
Where the fuck could he have taken her in Chicago and…
Then a memory from a long time ago pops in my mind.
I bought some land closer to your home. Can you believe it? Someone was selling it and I used this opportunity. Marina would love it.
The land that he showed me once.
The woods.
They are located thirty minutes away from the mansion, and that’s where he took her.
“Lucian?” Harold asks.
“Call Eugene and Jacob. Tell them to go to the woods. As soon as fucking possible.”
I hang up, grab the keys and a gun, and rush outside to Savanna’s shocked face.
My woman is in danger, and judging by how quickly everything escalated, I don’t have time to waste, as Alec’s actions will be unpredictable.
Hold on, gatita.
Just hold on.
This time around you won’t be alone in your nightmare.
Chapter Fifteen
“Certain events have tendencies to repeat themselves.
However, the outcomes can be vastly different.
A nightmare that crushed your soul for eternity can become a reality again.
But it does not mean the monster chasing you in it has to win again.”
Esmeralda
Esmeralda
Agony.
This thought enters my mind as I open my eyes, blinking rapidly and wishing to rip away my head that throbs so hard that my every breath sends pain through my scalp.
Nausea sweeps over me, everything around me spinning for a moment, until I sit straight. I lift my hand to palm my head only to pause when I notice tight ropes wrapped around my wrists, keeping them stuck together.
“The princess is finally awake.” The disgusting voice speaks up, and all the events occurring earlier come crashing back at me.
Looking around, I shrink inwardly as my soul cries out in anguish because an illusion of my childhood home surrounds me.
Thousands of memories slam into me, evoking far greater pain than the physical one in my body right now. Before this man showed up in our life, I was a happy child who had a loving family and stable home filled with laughter and happiness.
He destroyed my perfect world.
We are in the living room right now, near the fireplace that crackles as he shifts the burning logs with a poker, sending unwelcome heat my way as I sit in close proximity to it on the floor.
My legs are stretched out in front of me, my feet bare since he removed my shoes. I see my aching, injured ankle turning red.
I must have sprained it, which means if I try to run, I’ll have to do it on one leg.
The hot air produces sweat on my skin, sticking my clothes to me and dampening my jeans.
“Do you like my creation?” he asks, leaning on the fireplace, bending slightly forward as he’s still focused on the orange-blue flames. “Took me years to replicate your childhood home. Marina had so many pictures, I tried to do it justice. She said it was always full of love.” His hold on the poker tightens while his lips wobble, and he inhales deeply. “Do you think she would have liked it?”
My God, the man is insane. He brought me here to murder me and wonders if some random woman would have liked this house?
I open my mouth to curse at him, but the words stick in my throat when several passages from all the books I’ve read on serial killers appear in my mind.
The longer you indulge him in his fantasies, the better chance of escape you have because it prolongs time, and Lucian will be searching for me.
He will move heaven and hell to find me. I’m not all alone like I was all those years ago.
That or I’ll find a way to flee from his clutches myself at the first opportunity I get.
I survived him once; I can survive him again.
Acting out now without studying my environment and any planning might jeopardize my position and anger him, which will result in him killing me quicker.
Under no circumstances can I allow him to snap.
“I don’t know Marina,” I tentatively say, wincing when I move my legs a little so I can watch his expression better and not miss his mood changes. “The house is beautiful though, so she would have probably found it amazing.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, yet I keep my voice even, making him believe I’m a willing participant in his idea. “It must have been hard to build it all.”
He puffs his chest while a smile shapes his mouth, sinister and cold in its nature. “Three years. Four if we count outside.” Then he glances my way briefly. “You forgot your sister so quickly?” He shakes his head in disapproval. “Marina loved you so much she cried every night that you weren’t with us.” He hits one of the logs. “More than me. She shouldn’t have loved you that much.” He finishes his tirade on a harsher note while I gape at him in shock, barely making any sense from what he says.
Marina.
Evangeline.
Why would he call her that? It’s not even her middle name.
A magazine spread from a while ago comes to my mind where it was mentioned that sometimes abusive men create an entirely new personality for their spouses in order to totally separate them from their old lives. So they will not have routes of escape from the abuse they inflict on them.
My heart pangs painfully, a horrible realization enveloping it when my sister’s absence becomes crystal-clear in my mind, but I refuse to believe in it, still harboring hope she abandoned me and happily lives somewhere far away from this psycho after figuring out his despicable deeds.
Licking my dry lips, I fire a question his way. “Where is Marina? Why isn’t she here admiring this house herself?” My voice trembles slightly, and I press my foot harder on the wood
, stilling the cry of pain, but it grounds me in the present and doesn’t let emotions win.
No matter his reply, I can’t lose my composure.
He taps on the log one more time, puts the poker to the side, and steps back from it, collapsing onto the couch opposite me. He places a gun on the table between us, the tip pointed my way. “She’s here.” Relief washes over me, and I sag against the couch behind me. It’s short-lived though when he motions with his chin to the urn standing above the fireplace. “I couldn’t think of a better location for her ashes than her childhood home. Where her mother died. And you will. The Hugh girls will reunite again as if they never separated.”
Hurt pierces my heart. The loud humming in my ears starts while such profound grief overpowers me, demanding to swallow me whole, so I can curl in a ball and cry my heart out at the injustice of it all.
Esme, girl wake up. You’ll be late for your class.
Esme, let’s grab some ice cream.
Did you zone out again, Esme? Be careful or people will take advantage of that.
Flashback after flashback assault me, bringing up my sister’s laughing and happy face in my mind as she spent so much time showering her love on me.
Dead.
Killed by the same man who viciously murdered our mother.
My sister’s lover was a monster in disguise who ruined our family, and her only sin was loving him.
Tears form in my eyes while sobs threaten to slip past my lips, but I hold them back, blocking away the grief and hurt, storing it for later.
I will grieve, cry once all of this is over, with my husband’s arms wrapped tightly around me.
He snatches a serrated knife from his pocket, smeared in dried blood, and he presses it to his nose, grinning at the scent. “Nothing in this world compares to the smell and taste of fresh blood. The hot liquid coating my mouth while the victim chokes from all the blood pouring from her after I slice her throat.” His eyes roll back, and he inhales deeply again. “Ah, pure pleasure in its darkest form.”
Monstrous human being who should be locked behind bars for the insane shit he says and does, but for many years he’s roamed freely, murdering God knows how many women.
And I thought Lucian was bad?
He’s a saint compared to this disgusting psycho.
Alec is the true definition of a serial killer.
He zeros his gaze on my neck, licking his lips as he rubs the tip of the knife on his chin, and he probably imagines cutting my artery so he can indulge in his inclinations.
Despite the hate filling my every pore, wishing to grab the gun and shoot him straight in the head, I ask, needing to divert his attention from his cravings, “Why did you kill our mom?” After a beat I add, “Marina loved her.”
His eyes blaze in fury, and he digs his knife hard into his chin, bruising himself in the process, but he pays no attention to that. “She didn’t accept me in the family. She said bad stuff about me to Marina, which made her question our relationship. She wrote all her doubts in those fucking diaries of hers.” He cocks his head to the side, his reptile-like orbs drilling their stare at me. “I loved Marina so much, but she refused to see it. I even came back from Hawaii earlier to settle it all before proposing to her. I thought she would listen to me.”
I vaguely remember someone knocking on the door hours before the nightmare.
They argued in loud voices, and Mom shouted at him to get the hell out, but when I asked who it was, she told me no one.
It must have been Alec.
My heart bleeds at the thought of my poor mother who ended up on the receiving end of his madness.
He holds his knife tighter, digging it harder in his wound while distaste laces his voice. “She kicked me out. She left me no choice but to kill her. All I wanted was for her to welcome me into the family. Was it so hard?” He screams the last part, breathing heavily, while I plaster my back against the couch, watching emotions play on his face. “Acceptance. The only thing I desired, and it was always denied to me.” He palms his head, gripping his hair. “Daddy always said I was a mistake he wished he could undo. He repeated it so much I finally couldn’t hear it anymore.”
I blink at such an abrupt change of subject, although they are probably connected somehow.
Look for all the answers to the serial killer’s action in his or her childhood, right?
“I sent him flying over the railing.” His words make me sick, the desire to vomit so strong I don’t know how I hold it back, especially when he grins. “Finally, he stopped yapping his mouth. Killing him didn’t bring me pleasure, just shame and fear. And relief,” he whispers the last part, placing the knife on his lap and drumming his fingers on his knees as he glances to the side. “Because he no longer beat me with his belt over and over again, laughing while I pissed myself from pain.”
Dear God.
I feel sorry for the little boy he once was who suffered cruelty at the hands of his father, and it resulted in his broken psyche, but the man sitting in front of me deserves no mercy.
He continues to speak while in a trance, and although his words send shivers down my spine along with disgust, I withstand it, as every minute he wastes on all this gives me more time to survive.
Discretely, I check the knot on the rope; it’s super tight, but maybe I can try untying it. I quickly use my teeth to loosen one knot and then slam my hands on my legs when he swings his head back at me.
“After a year, I met Marina. Beautiful, young, free. And loving. She gave me so much love I didn’t know what to do with it. I was happy. Your mother ruined it.”
“She didn’t know you,” I say, working on the rope, and his brows furrows. “You didn’t give her any time to get used to you.”
“She called me a mistake! An infatuation that will pass.” Mom must have had a good gut feeling as she rarely ever objected to anything in our lives, yet she stood her ground when it came to Evangeline’s boyfriend. “All I heard was his voice in my head again that wouldn’t shut up. The only way to shut it up was to kill you both.”
What kind of warped logic is this?
“You were supposed to be in the bed, a quick shot in the head, and then I’d stab her. Without you, Marina would have had no reason to say no to my proposal or break up with me. You stood in my way!” He gets up, pacing the room back and forth, as he hurriedly explains his actions to me—that don’t really matter.
The monster killed my mother and sister and now plans to off me.
Do I really care about his reasons?
“She woke up too early and told you to run. You escaped me, and I transferred all my rage on your mother. All I could think about was that if my plan failed me, I’d be all alone again. I couldn’t allow it.” He grins, sighing. “However, the more I stabbed her, the more I enjoyed it. That death opened up something inside me, something dark that needed to be sustained. So I had to kill you to get rid of the urge.”
The logs crackle and pop, the heat becoming almost unbearable, and I shift to the side, trying to get as far away as possible while stilling a groan, because moving my ankle just plain hurts.
“Is this why you killed Marina? Because you couldn’t murder me?” I whisper the question, still confused why he killed her, if he got what he wanted.
Evangeline all to himself.
For the first time, I’m grateful my grandmother took me away and locked me in her castle.
He picks up the urn with her ashes, cradling it in his arms as he sways from side to side. “No, I loved her. My sunshine. My miracle.” He kisses the urn and rests his cheek on it. “She discovered my secret and wanted to run away. I couldn’t allow it.”
I freeze, prompting, “Your secret?”
“All my other victims.” My stomach flips, and I pull at the ropes harder, yet it has no effect on them. Although I should have expected that, right? A monster who tasted blood once would crave it again. “Something changed after that night… irrevocably. I wanted to see this fear in a victim’
s eyes again, the screams, the blood. The idea tempted me too much to resist it, so I went to poor neighborhoods and found women there. After a while, it became an addition, an aphrodisiac I needed to survive.”
Fear washes over me, enveloping me whole, while panic grows inside just listening to him speak so fondly of such hideous crimes. I frantically search for a solution, but under his strict supervision, I have no room to move.
A phone.
Shouldn’t there be a phone somewhere I could use to call the police?
Desperately wracking my mind to remember where the damned phone was in our house, I continue the conversation. “You let me live. Why?” If he indulged in all these… habits, shouldn’t he have killed me a long time ago?
“She gave you to Suzanne. You were no longer a problem,” he explains, putting the urn back in its place and crossing his arms. “Until my killings took her away from me. These hands—” He raises his splayed palms. “—choked her to death.” I wish to cover my ears so the pain of hearing how my sister died doesn’t pierce my heart, but I have no such luxury right now. “I no longer considered it a blessing. It was a curse.” He settles his gaze on me, his crazy orbs roaming over my form. “A curse only you can break. It should have ended with you.”
At this point, I don’t even bother to search for the logic in his explanations.
He takes a step toward me, and I tense, not wanting to show him weakness, but at the same time not wanting to antagonize him more either. “I gave you plenty of time to thrive as a tribute to my love, who cherished you so much. You can’t live longer than my Marina though. Twenty-one, it was always the number of your death.” He pushes the knife up, ready to stab me with it, and my shout reverberates through the walls.
“No!” He pauses, blinking in confusion, probably only half comprehending what’s wrong with me, and I use it to my advantage.
If he calls me his curse, then I need to add a little freaking magic to make the ritual more interesting to him and convince this lunatic how to better close the imaginary loophole he used to justify all his crimes.