by G N Wright
I'm quiet, controlled, and completely unassuming, most would consider me an unworthy opponent. That is what makes me so dangerous. Not my name or my bank balance. Not the fact that my father is a killer. No. None of that. I'm dangerous because people look at me and see a quiet, polite, and respectable young man. A child yet to step up and take his place in this family of murderers. They don't know I was thrust into that role three years ago and haven't looked back since. Looking back would mean having regrets. I have none. Yes, I wish what Greg did to Elle could be erased, but that would also mean erasing my daughter. Something I would never wish for, no matter how dark her creation. She took something sick and depraved and made it good, made me good.
My daughter is the purest thing my world will ever know. I don’t feel emotions like normal people do, don’t indulge in lust, sex or even friendship outside of Elle. They are all things that are of no concern to me, my one and only priority is ridding this town of its fucking sinister sick bastards, so my daughter only knows love and light.
“Oh, I thought father was dealing with her,” I attempt for an uninterested tone but falter slightly trying to contain my rage.
He brings his sick, gleaming stare back to mine, “Oh yes, brother, he is but tonight is all about family business,” he says the words with a slap to my shoulders before he slithers off back towards our father.
Family business. Isn’t that a pleasant way to describe the kidnapping, the drugging, the raping, the torturing, and sometimes murdering of young girls. I purse my lips as I watch him infiltrate my father’s group of friends with his presence, the pride in my father’s eyes, the fear in his friends’.
“Well, he is about as pleasant as I imagined,” Logan drawls from beside me. I loathe the fact I didn’t notice his approach. I pride myself on being aware of my surroundings and yet I just let someone slip past my defenses without so much as a flicker of awareness.
“What do you want, baby Royton?'' I snap in annoyance as I throw back the remainder of the liquid in my tumbler, before I stalk over to the makeshift bar for a refill. Only a board my father is a member of would allow for a party full of seniors to include alcohol. I slam down the glass and signal for a refill as Logan appears at my side.
The bartender fills my drink efficiently and Logan dives for it before my hand touches it and takes a sip with a smile.
I fucking hate people touching my stuff, “Can you get your own? You fucking neanderthal,” I growl, snatching my drink back from him.
But my glacial tone does nothing as he licks the remainder of liquid from his lips, his eyes meet mine, “Why? Are you remembering where my lips have been? Thinking about whose taste might still be lingering there.”
Of fucking course, he would bring up that night from a couple of weeks ago, where I caught him on his knees for Blackwell.
Why the fuck would I be thinking about that?
I ignore whatever the fuck he is trying to reference and ask again, “What the fuck do you want, Logan?”
“Relax, my little psycho, I was just ensuring the two brothers weren’t going to gladiator it out. It looked like a possibility with the way you two were glaring at each other,” he shrugs before adding, “Not that I wouldn’t enjoy seeing you shirtless, sweaty, and bleeding,” he winks, before making a show of checking me out.
I roll my eyes, typical Logan bullshit. He’s made a game out of attempting to flirt with me since we met, no matter how many times, I ignore his attempts at affections, he still continues. I thought maybe with what happened between him and Lincoln I’d be free from his ridiculous notions. A joke or not, he is more than wasting his time with me.
“Why don’t you take your affections to the help and see if you fare better? Some of us are actually taking tonight seriously,” I tsk.
He grabs my drink back and necks the remainder before leaning in at the same time I catch Lincoln's eye over his shoulder. All three Rebels are now sitting at the table where Marcus was alone before. I watch as Elle pulls out her phone and gestures out the doors to the guys and leaves the room.
“Oh, I take everything seriously, baby,” he whispers before turning to leave as my gaze is still locked with the other fucking asshole. The only thing that makes me break it is seeing Greg in my peripheral stalking across the room towards the exit with intent.
My gut screams at me like it has been doing for weeks. When I look back to Lincoln, I note he's seen the same thing I have, hmm. so he is good at certain things. When he watches Greg, he looks back to me and we share an unspoken communication.
Something isn’t right.
Chapter 44
ELLE
Iput the phone back into my bag after I tried calling Z back. I take a moment to myself in the stupidly large music room I came across. Such a far cry from what they have over at Hallows High. I let my fingers dance across the skin of a drum set as I try to imagine what life would have been like if that night never happened. Would I have met the same fate another time? Would Michael still be alive? Would Marcus and I be what we are now?
“Well, look here, it seems I've found myself a lost princess again. Or should I say Queen?” The blood in my veins turns to ice as the last voice I ever wanted to hear again pierces through the room. The goosebumps that dance across my skin no longer have anything to do with the cool December air filtering in through the window and I can’t suppress the flinch I let out.
“I thought I'd never get you alone,” he continues, and his words crawl over my skin, his tone dark, demonic and completely giddy at his findings. I turn and come face to face with Greg Donovan. My best friend's brother, my child's biological father, my rapist.
I don't speak straight away, I can’t. I won't allow him the satisfaction of hearing the tremble that will shake my voice. No amount of preparing or training could make me ready for this. To come face to face with the man who raped me.
He hasn’t changed in the almost four years since I’ve seen him. He is still as handsome as he ever was, beautiful and blonde, just like his little brother. The only difference between them is the look in their eyes. Asher might be dark and corrupted by everything he has seen, jaded by it, but he still knows how to feel, how to love. It might have been limited by his trauma and the demons he calls life, but it’s there. He shows it to me, Cassie brings it out of him every day, and I’m sure one day the right person will make it fucking shine.
Greg wasn’t just born into the darkness, he was made with it, it seeped into his bones until his very essence was nothing but black. That blackness pours out of him and mars his features until all you can see is pure fucking evil.
He is watching me, assessing me, as he starts to slowly circle the large room, somehow still managing to move towards me at the same time. Casually, carefully, stalking what he thinks is his prey. I steel myself, taking comfort in the feeling of the pistol strapped to my thigh. Relish in the two blades buried into the corset of my dress and find peace in knowing my Rebels are somewhere close by. They will have my back.
When I'm finally confident enough that I can speak without my voice shaking I force a bored tone into my voice, "Gregory, to what do I owe this unfortunate interaction?” I offer him the fakest, sweet smile I can manage.
He smirks at me, like my uninterested tone is exactly what he wanted, “I had been looking for you for sometime, Elle,” he puts emphasis on my name, and the way it sounds on his tongue makes me want to never hear it again. Change it until he can’t ever say it again. Every step he takes brings him an inch closer and makes my fear increase tenfold, fear I am pushing down. Hiding as well as Z has trained me to.
I smile a taunting grin ensuring to show not even an ounce of the fear that infects my insides “Sorry, I didn’t realize the devil looked for people. Don't they just fall at your feet?” I make a gesture to the floor before him, disguising my aim at bringing my fingers close to the slit in my dress just a breath away from the grip of my gun.
His smile widens, “Oh, the princess has a sense of hu
mor now?” he moves towards me again, but still, I remain rooted to the spot and the glint in his eye turns my stomach.
“I have a lot of things I didn’t on our last encounter,” I say hoping the blank look on my face is enough to convince him he isn’t affecting me. It’s a lie. The fear is pulsing through me, forcing its way into me, and trying to take over my body. I hear Zack’s voice in my head telling me not to panic.
“Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed,” his words slide under my skin and cause it to prickle. I don’t like his tone and my fingers itch to just pull out my gun and end him right fucking here. Paint this pretty cream floor with his fucking organs. He deserves it, I don’t think anyone deserves it more. No one would mourn a sick, sadistic fuck like him.
He ascends upon me, slowly, quietly. He thinks I'm the prey, and he is the hunter. Fool me once, Gregory. Shame on you. You don't get a fucking second chance. If he came for me now, I’d welcome it, beg him to. Just so I could feel the relief of gutting him and allowing his blood to drench my skin. It would feel cathartic. Like an artist creating a masterpiece, except my Sistine Chapel would be his dead fucking body.
I watch his every step, assessing the risks of him getting close to me but I don't move, not even a fucking inch. Show no fear.
“How about I make you a deal?” he offers, like anything he could do for me would be a favor.
“I don’t make deals with the devil,” I toss back without pause.
“The devil has nothing on me,” he smiles, all fucking teeth like it was a compliment. Yeah, don’t I fucking know it, you psychotic little freak.
My fingers burn to curl around the pistol at my thigh, or to whip out one of my knives. My blades are a part of me as much as my fucking limbs. He makes one wrong move, and I don't give a fuck about who is here or what the clean-up would be. I won’t fucking hesitate to gut him here and now, until his intestines spill on this pretty marble floor.
He continues, “I am heir to a fucking throne that is finally within reach. I don’t need some fucking scorned bitch on a mission messing all that up. You think I don’t know what you’ve done?” he taunts me, his smile finally turning truly sinister instead of charming. Ah, finally his true face, the one I know better than anyone. “You would be surprised by what I know, princess. You want to survive? Then run, fucking disappear before I catch you and finish what I started three years ago.”
I laugh, “What makes you think that isn’t exactly what I want?” My fingers dance along my holster, willing him to come for me now. There is a flash of surprise across his face for the first time since he stepped into the room, so I push on.
“You wanna make me bleed again, Greg? Then bring it the fuck on, I’m not the scared little girl you took from the woods anymore.”
“Oh, I can see that,” he licks his lips, as he drags his gaze down my body lingering on my breasts before flicking his eyes back to me, “What does the princess desire?”
“What I want, you can’t give me,” I spit at him, I'm done holding back. I will take my fear and turn it into fucking fire and then enjoy watching him fucking burn.
For the first time, I advance towards him letting the venom seep into my voice, “I want to look down into your cold, dead eyes as they stare back at me, Gregory. I want you to feel so much pain that you wish you never laid a fucking finger on me. I want your fucking rapist body bleeding out at my feet, you sick son of a bitch.”
He takes a step forward, his excited glare sparkling once more, “Ohh, temper temper,” he muses. “I thought I’d fucked that out of you, maybe we should go again.”
He’s so concentrated on me that he didn’t notice the dark shadow enter the room. That was his second mistake, his first was thinking I would ever give him the chance to get me alone.
“Take one more fucking step, Donovan. I dare you,” Marcus’ voice wraps around me like fucking silk. Soothing me instantly and reminding me of the power I have. Greg turns and takes in Marcus’ form and his brothers standing next to him.
He tuts, “Not one, but three Rebels by your side, ey princess? Not surprising, after all I know how sweet that cunt is,” he winks at me like we are on the same side and bile floods my throat.
Marcus moves so fast that none of us see him until his fist is smashing against Greg’s jaw, forcing him to the floor.
Lincoln drags him back with force and Jace helps him, he needs too. Greg stands, wiggling out his jaw with a sinister smile on his face like he is really enjoying himself. He spits blood to the floor tarnishing the pureness of it, “You'll regret that Riviera. Just like your dad did.”
Marcus roars trying to escape the guys, “I will fucking kill you,” but before he can get past them Greg grabs me and pulls me into his body. Dragging me against him and I almost gag when I feel his cock hardening against my ass. The pleasure I will feel when I chop it the fuck off will be unparalleled. His hands on me flood my brain with nightmares I wish I could forget, memories I try my hardest daily to suppress. He inhales my hair just like he did that night, closing his eyes, like he is trying to memorize my scent once more.
Losing control of his urges is another slip up on his part. The click of a gun hits his head at the same time Asher rushes the room taking in the scene. Thankfully ,Greg’s is too focused on Lincoln to notice the despair on Ash’s face. Despair that turns to pure fucking acid.
“Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. Her.” Lincoln speaks each word slowly putting emphasis on each one. His cool and calm tone sounds completely detached and deadly, I've never seen him look so intense and I've seen him after he committed four murders. His green eyes now a shade of black I am unfamiliar with. I have no doubt that he will blow Greg’s brains out right here if he doesn’t obey. I have a feeling this is a truer version of Lincoln to what we are used to, he looks too calm, too comfortable, too ready.
Greg doesn’t move, just cocks his stare to the side to take in Linc's form and he smiles before looking back at me. “Oh, don’t worry, Rebel,” he says stepping back and away from the gun before turning and locking eyes with Ash, “I got everything I came for,” he smiles wide at his brother and I can tell from Ash’s face that he is close to the edge right now, so I subtly shake my head and pray he sees it.
Greg makes a show of fastening his tuxedo jacket before continuing, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some family business to attend to,” he moves confidently towards the door on the assumption we won’t fucking murder him. To be honest, it’s a close fucking toss up right now with the rage drowning the room. But in true psycho form he doesn’t seem bothered, just nods his head at Asher on the way out, “Brother, they’re all yours.”
Asher watches him leave and nobody speaks until he turns back to us, “Something’s not right,”
“Yeah, your brother is a fucking murdering rapist,” Lincoln spits and I flinch at his dark, murderous tone.
“I wasn’t fucking talking to you, help,” Asher grits back at him before looking to me. “You okay, baby girl?”
I nod before answering, “Yeah, I’m fine.” I am far from fucking fine, but I try my hardest to control my breathing and work to center myself.
He doesn’t look convinced, “Something’s not right. I can feel it,” he says looking around at the other three before coming back to me. “I’m going to follow him, you guys go home, I think we’ve had enough fun for one night.”
He turns to leave, “Ash,” I call out to him and he pauses looking over his shoulder, “Be careful.”
His smile is tight and forced, “Always.”
Chapter 45
ELLE
Itry to take a breath but I can’t, they come in short pants, as I struggle to deal with the aftermath of seeing Greg. The adrenaline that kept me going head-to-head with him is nowhere in sight. All I feel is fear, panic, grief. I need something, anything, to stop me from sinking into the void of my past. I struggle to take a deep breath, as I stare off at the door that Asher just exited.
"Baby," Marcus reaches out to caress
my cheek. "Stay with me," he pleads, as he pulls me into his arms. I close my eyes and try to let his words soothe me.
I feel him turn slightly to speak with the other guys, "Can you give us a minute?" Neither Lincoln nor Jace say a word, but I hear the door open and close. I know the instant we are alone. His grip goes from careful and tentative to possessive.
He grabs my chin and tilts my head back, when I open my eyes his dark stare is locked on mine. Waiting. Wanting. He feels it too. The despair, the loss, the grief, the pain. He needs me just as much as I need him. To remind ourselves that we are here and this thing between us is real.
"Whatever the fuck he said to you, forget it," his voice is gritted, laced with the darkness I know is coursing through him. "Whatever he thinks he took from you, he didn't." His arms circle my waist as he lifts me, walking backwards until we hit a desk against the wall. He places me onto it effortlessly, parting my legs and stepping between them.
"You're Elle fucking King and Greg Donovan is rapist scum who deserves nothing more than to be fucking blood on your blade."
He is as close to the edge as I am. I can feel the string holding him here with me and not going after Greg, it’s ready to snap. Being that close to the person who ruined everything and yet doing nothing. I see it in his eyes, in his fucking soul, he wants to go after him, attack him, fucking ruin him until he is nothing but fucking bone dust. Only then will he feel relief, I get it, I feel it too, more than he could ever know. He may have taken so much from me, but he took from Marcus too, took our friendship, our future, our fucking meant to be. He ruined everything.
Marcus Riviera was my first friend, my first crush, my first love, and if it wasn't for Greg Donovan, he would have been my first everything. The only person who hates him more than me for that is Marcus. It doesn't matter what we share, he will always have taken that from us. I need Marcus to know that this thing between us is everything, that Greg Donovan is nothing, and that together we will fucking shine.