Closer (A Dark Romance, Book 1): The Closer Trilogy

by M. C. Vann

  A feeling of dread overcame me. I looked down at my trembling legs, afraid to face the truth. My worst fears were true.

  His sister … was raped and murdered.

  My brother … accused of rape and murder.

  Everything made sense. Everything aligned. That was why Henry did this. That was why he wanted to hurt me.

  Because I was Chris’ sister.

  I cautiously lifted my eyes to look at his straightened back until he stood up while everybody else did the same. The parole commissioner had walked in. He introduced himself and began the procedure.

  Throughout the hearing, I attempted to listen carefully to the jargon they used, but I couldn’t even focus on a single word. I just found out why Henry had been doing everything all this time and I couldn’t ignore it. He wanted to take revenge on my brother. He wanted to hurt the both of us.

  When the hearing came to a close, my heart pounded in my ears as the parole commissioner delivered the decision. “The full Board has found Mr. Summers not fit for parole and makes no adjustment to his minimum terms.”

  At that moment, it seemed as though the world came tumbling down on me.

  No! This wasn’t happening. Chris was good. He was a good person. He didn’t deserve this.

  Everybody stood up to leave as the hearing ended, but I remained seated. Disbelief occupied my thoughts. Chris had been waiting in jail for so long and for something I believe he didn’t even do. He was a good person and he proved all tests, showing all signs of good — I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t accept it.

  Anger raged in me as I ran to the front to catch a glimpse of my brother before he was taken away. The guards refused to let me through the gate to embrace and console him. But maybe I was the one who needed consoling. Chris didn’t appear even disappointed by the news.

  “Chris, I’m so sorry,” I spoke. The words barely made it out of my mouth. My voice and tears lodged in the back of my throat. I didn’t care if other people stared or judged me. My brother was being taken away from me a second time.

  “Ally, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s me. I’m the one who should be sorry,” Chris said as his eyes gleamed in the light. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the older brother you wanted and looked up to. I’m sorry for not being there.” A tear streamed down his cheek and that was enough to break the dam from my eyes. “I’m sorry … Please take care of yourself.”

  I sobbed and shook my head as I struggled to reply. “You too.”

  I still had so much to tell him, but those were the only words that I could say before they took my brother away.

  Drained from all the crying, I exited the building and sat on an empty sidewalk bench. I let out a breath as I stared up at the sky. Tears streamed from the corner of my eyes as I prayed to some higher power. For the strength to accept the decision. For the strength to make it through this.

  Many people walked pass me, but there wasn’t one person I could turn to. My friends wouldn’t understand. My family was too far. I wanted to call my sister, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wasn’t in the right state of mind and to relive it again, I’d just break down and cry as soon as she answered.

  I felt like I was falling into a deep abyss trap, one in which no one could save me from. It was only me. And pure darkness.

  I dreaded returning back to that house. I was scared of facing Henry. He must have left right after the commissioner announced the decision. But the more I prolonged our confrontation, the more evident it was bound to happen, sooner or later. I sat on that bench for a few more hours before heading back.

  When I arrived at the house, I noticed Henry’s car parked in the driveway. Nana wasn’t home as I couldn’t find her anywhere. She must have gone out with her friends. As I climbed up the stairs, each step became heavier as if the pull of gravity was growing stronger. My stomach growled, but I didn’t have any appetite or strength to eat, so I continued to my room. I turned into the hallway and noticed Henry’s office door was opened slightly. Without even having to look, I knew he was in there.

  Just leave now. A voice rang in my head.

  No, I couldn’t. Leaving wasn’t the answer. Leaving won’t solve anything.

  I stormed into his room to find him sitting at his desk. Both of his hands wrapped around his head as if he was stressed. He looked up as he heard my entrance and regained his composure. I walked closer to him, even though my mind told me no.

  “Henry, I—”

  “Please don’t.”

  “But … my brother …,” I said, edging closer to his desk. “I—”

  “I said don’t!” he yelled as hands slammed against the desk loudly. He stood up and paced away from me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  He stalked to the other side of the room and pressed his hands against the mantel of the fireplace. The glinting light from the fire caused his shadow to flicker on the walls of the room.

  “But we need to talk,” I said, trying to stay composed.

  “What is there to talk about?! There is nothing to discuss!” he vehemently replied, spinning around to face me. The color in his eyes faded. His dark gaze fixated on me and only me.

  When he was angry like this, I’d usually feel scared, but I wasn’t the slightest. I remained calm as I took a few steps closer to him.

  “My brother is innocent,” I said. The disbelief was evident in his stare. “I’m sure of it. I know him. My brother … he’s a good person.”

  “Good people don’t exist. Stop being so naive,” he spat reproachfully. “Don’t you remember? That’s what got you here in the first place.”

  He stormed toward the direction of the door, but I couldn’t stop myself from saying it.

  “Henry!” I called out, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. “I know him. I know him, and he would never do anything like that!”

  Tears filled my eyes as it dawned on me that I was never going to get through to him. Henry was too far away. Even though he stood right in the same room with me, no matter what I tried, I could never reach him. He was too cold and blinded by his hatred for my brother.

  “Please, you have to believe me,” I said through quivering lips. “He’s innocent.”

  Henry balled his hands into fists, internally fighting with himself over something I couldn’t quite grasp. “You want to know the truth?” he said, keeping his back facing me. After a long moment of silence, he turned around and approached me with his stare as cold as ice. “It might sting a bit.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, Ally. Must you see the good in everybody,” he taunted with a hint of sarcasm. “How could he be innocent when he’s sitting in a jail cell right now, just wilting away like a picked flower?”

  With teary eyes, I didn’t back down. I kept my eyes locked on his, thinking how cruel he was to describe my brother like that. I knew he hated Chris, but did he have to stoop so low?

  “You don’t have proof,” I muttered.

  “Be careful what you wish for,” he spoke harshly as if it was a challenge — one that already had a predetermined outcome. He pulled away and walked behind his desk, loudly unlocking one of the drawers. In his hand was a thick packet of documents. Henry rushed toward me again, using his free hand to drag me slightly off the floor.

  “If your brother didn’t do it, then explain what this is,” he spoke cruelly before he forcefully cast the papers into the air.

  Dropping to my knees, I rummaged through the white papers as they fell around me. When I finally gathered enough sense as to what they were, I covered my mouth with my hand in astonishment. There were court proceedings with Chris’ name, newspaper clippings detailing what happened, and graphic pictures of his sister laying lifeless on the ground. Appalled by the photos, the documents slipped from my hands and onto the floor without any effort. Before I could recollect my thoughts, Henry seized my forearm, jolting me back to reality.

  “He’s a k
iller and a rapist. And that’s what he deserves — life in prison.”

  Every word that he just said couldn’t be true. What he just showed me couldn’t be. It wasn’t the truth. He was blinded. He was ... lying.

  “The blood of my sister is on your brother’s hands,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

  “You’re lying.” I held my breath.

  “Then what is this!” Henry pursed his lips and grabbed one of the photos, shoving it in my face. I averted my gaze, unable to face her, unable to face the undeniable truth. “Look at this clearly and tell me I’m lying.”

  How could Chris have done this?

  How could he take a life this way?

  I was so young back then, when it happened — only in my early teens. I always thought my brother was framed or that someone put him up to it, but I guessed the bitter truth was something I never wanted to face.

  ‘I’m … I’m …,” I sobbed, unable to respond.

  “Sorry? I’m the not person you should be apologizing to,” Henry said. He hauled me back onto my feet and without saying anything else, he dragged me forcefully out of the house and into his car. His severe hold on me sent slight jolts of pain up my arm, but I wasn’t the slightest bit worried about that.

  I knew where he was taking me. He promised me he would take me to meet her one day.

  That day was today.

  When we arrived at the vast yard of gravestones, my heart dropped into my stomach. I slowly felt a wave of nausea as I removed my eyes from the quiet, eerie scene.

  I wasn’t ready to face what lay ahead.

  I wasn’t ready to face her.

  I heard his door slam and in seconds, mine was opened. He easily snatched my wrist and pulled me out of my seat, dragging me down the lightly snow-covered gravel pathway. The bitter winter winds blew my hair in all directions, cutting our cheeks as he led us down the road.

  It was just the two of us … out here alone with the hundreds of souls resting in peace.

  When Henry finally stopped at a spot right above a hill where a dead willow tree covered her grave, I was already out of breath. He let me go for just a moment before he shoved me onto the snow-covered ground, the cold now biting at my legs.

  “This is who you should be apologizing to,” Henry muttered flatly.

  I slowly peered up from the ground to focus my gaze on the tombstone in front of me. I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat as I read the grave owner’s name.

  Jennifer Rose Pearce.

  At the moment that I finished reading her name, tears fell without warning.

  This was the reason why Henry chose me. It wasn’t because he liked me. He never did. He chose me because he intended to. He chose me because he wanted to avenge his sister.

  “Aren’t you going to apologize?” he challenged again.

  Nothing but quiet sobs left my mouth.

  “Apologize to her!” Henry demanded again.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, the shaking words barely audible as they escaped. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. Please forgive my brother.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Henry muttered coldly. He seized my arm and clenched my chin between the other, forcing me to look up at him. “You and your family have no right to ask for forgiveness. Nor will you ever receive it.”

  All I did was remain silent while the uncontrollable tears streamed down my cheeks. His lips pressed into a thin hard line and his thick brows lowered onto his dark eyes as he tightened his grip.

  There was nothing, but pure spite in his heart.

  He thrust me back onto the ground with even more force this time.

  “What do you want?” I asked, more so to myself than him. “I’ve already apologized. What else do you want from me?!”

  “There’s nothing you can do!” he shouted, raising his voice above mine. “Don’t you see? No matter what I do, I can’t bring her back. You don’t understand how it feels to lose someone like how I lost her. She didn’t deserve to die.”

  “I know,” I said. “I know that I don’t understand. I know that she didn’t deserve to die. No one deserves to experience what she went through.”

  “Unless ...”

  “Unless what?” I furrowed my brows in confusion.

  Henry suddenly snatched my wrist and lifted me to my feet. He hauled me back to the car and we were on the road again. To where … I had no idea.

  Henry pulled into an underground parking lot a while later. He parked the car so fast, the screech of his tires turning ripped through the parking floor.

  He dragged me toward the elevators, but I struggled free from his grip. I started to sprint towards the opposite direction, thinking I could get away from him, but he was always too quick. Once he regained control of me, he pulled us into a familiar stairway and after many flights of stairs, we arrived at the top of the building.

  This was the roof of Pearce Hotel.

  This was the place he showed me before.

  We entered the restricted section and Henry pushed me forward as we crossed the warning line. My knees weakened at the sight of the tall buildings surrounding us. There was nothing around the edges — no railings or bars. The sound of my heartbeats pounded in my ears as I grew terrified of what he would do to me.

  Henry could kill me right now. If he pushed me off, there would be no escape from death.

  As I spun away from the ground below, he was standing right in front of me and I knew we were only so far from the edge of death.

  “Are you going to kill me?” I somehow managed to say through my rapid breaths.

  Henry edged closer to me and I naturally took a step back, hesitating because of what lay behind me. He smirked deviously as he gently reached out to grab my arms — his grip anything, but friendly.

  “Just do it,” I said, looking straight into his cold-blooded expression. “Push me. Kill me … Now is your chance. What are you waiting for?”

  I had no idea what I was saying. I didn’t know why I was prompting him to kill me. He had the heart to do it. I knew he would. But he appeared reluctant.

  “I could do it, you know,” he muttered. “But death would be too easy. Don’t you agree? I want you to feel the pain she felt — the pain where you wished you’d rather be dead.”

  Henry picked me up over his shoulder as I pounded and kicked uselessly. He carried me out the way we came in, but after a flight of stairs, he opened the door to an empty floor and strolled into a long hallway. He easily accessed a two-sided door to a large penthouse by placing his finger on the scanner.

  “What are you going do?!” I screamed. “What are you going do to me?! Let me go!”

  Henry dropped me onto the mattress, and I stood on my feet quickly. He watched me with contempt as I started to run across the bed for the door. Before I could even jump, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pushed me back onto the bed, the weight of his body demolishing my body onto the firm surface. He skillfully secured my wrists above my head as his knees locked down on my legs. He roughly disposed of my coat from arm to arm before he loosened the button on my jeans.

  “Henry! Please don’t do this!” I yelled at him, but he continued on. I closed my eyes and cried, knowing I couldn’t stop him. I felt the cool wind of the room on my bare legs as he planted his lips on my neck, the assault making my skin crawl. Just as he was about to ram his lips onto mine, I hysterically yelled, “Stop!”

  Henry finally halted, and he watched me wide-eyed as his slightly opened mouth hovered over my lips.

  “Please,” I repeated breathlessly. “Jennifer ... Jenny wouldn’t want you to do this.”

  And just like that, I felt him pull away. His hold on me loosened as he shot up from the bed and stormed off into the other room. Exhausted breaths of relief heaved out from my lungs as I fumbled around to pull the bed sheets around me. From where I was, I could hear the cries of Henry’s breakdown.

  Tears now started to seep from my eyes too as
I folded my knees into my chest. I needed to get out of here immediately before Henry returned and tried to do that again. After putting my jeans and coat on, I walked toward the door to leave.

  But I stopped. My hand lingered over the doorknob for a long second before balling into a tight fist.

  I couldn’t leave Henry here alone — especially in this kind of state. He couldn’t be alone right now. He had no one to rely on. He had no one to share his pain with. And those he could rely on, he pushed them out of his walls.

  I peeked into the other room, and my heart shattered at the sight of Henry barely holding himself together. He sat against the wall by a large window with his hands over his head and his knees close to his chest. When I made it to him, I kneeled to the floor. My hand naturally reached for him, but I stopped myself just as he moved a muscle. His crying was now muffled and I heard him whispering something over and over to himself. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. He didn’t push me away or resist as I thought he would and he didn’t say anything or stop crying.

  I didn’t expect Henry to be this broken. I didn’t expect him to cry. I had never seen Henry cry before. I never thought he could.

  But after all, he was human.

  The next morning, I woke up in bed with someone lying next to me. When my eyes focused on Henry, I wasn’t sure whether to be calm or afraid, but catching this rare peaceful sight of him told me to stay still. I wanted to trace the sharp features on his face when I suddenly realized he was holding my hand in his sleep. With a sigh, I reached up and lightly placed a subtle kiss on his forehead, wary of not waking him up.

  This man lying next to me looked so perfect in every possible way ... on the outside.

  But on the inside ... he was so flawed.

  And yet … a part of me still loved him, regardless of who he was and what he had done.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I laid out the breakfast I ordered on the table when Henry walked through the door with a somber face. His hair was messily arranged and his eyes were still a hint of red from the crying last night. He glanced from the table to me without saying anything.