by V. F. Mason
Once I’m done, I exit the bathroom and put on the ballerina flats, the only shoes present in the room, and then it dawns on me.
My reaction was so strong to his words that I spun into action without even stopping to think what it would mean.
Lachlan is letting me go, as in he no longer wishes for me to be part of his life.
The man who told me I’d die by his side before ever seeing my family again.
I drop onto the bed, resting my elbows on my knees and blink a few times, hoping for my mind to get clarity, but no matter how much I try, it doesn’t come to me.
Why would he do something like that? Didn’t he say he doesn’t follow the rules? That once he lured his victim, there is no escape?
Why is he allowing this?
Glancing one last time at the room that has become my sanctuary, I grab my scarf and step outside, and that’s when the music floating through the space echoes in my mind.
The instrumental piece from Braveheart.
I follow it all the way downstairs, almost mesmerized by the perfection and beauty of each note as if I listened to it through speakers. Not one single wrong note.
When reaching the last step, I freeze as I see Lachlan sitting at the piano and playing with his back to me on the dark-as-night instrument that, thanks to the round ceiling, allows the music to spread through the entire mansion, probably one of his plans when building it.
A conversation from yesterday plays in my head, while a tear threatens to slide down the bridge of my nose, but I hold it back.
If I just had the chance to tell her goodbye… I would have done so with a song. She loved how I played. Told me it soothed her soul. I wish I could have done it after he told her the truth. It was the only way I could have shown her what fire raged inside me and calmed her storm.
Before I can stop myself, my feet move toward him as I try to concentrate on all the good parts we have experienced and memories that prove to me he has a heart. That deep down, there is the man I fell in love with, even though it was stupid.
That deep down there lives a boy who just never knew what peace was, who had his innocence taken away from him in a way I wouldn’t wish for anyone. That he didn’t have a choice back then, and he ended up on this road. Maybe he needed to do all this stuff to Mark’s daughter so he could let go of all his demons.
But as I’m about to touch him, I pause. His back tenses, even though he continues to play. No matter how much I can imagine all those excuses, it doesn’t change the fact of who he is.
A serial killer who teaches other serial killers to kill people, even if they are evil people. How can I ever be with a man who accepts it? Who thrills in such a life? I once heard a saying that a fish and bird can fall in love… but where will they build their nest? What future do I have with him?
Love is supposed to win every argument, but what if love is the one thing that destroys you the most?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and then with one last glance, I turn around and run to the door, because I’m afraid if I stay for just one second longer, I will change my mind. I will stay forever with him silencing the voice inside me and ultimately killing myself.
Jumping into the car, I cover my face with my hands while sobbing loudly, and John quietly shuts the door. With that, the music dies.
And so do we.
Once upon a time, an angel and a monster fell in love.
And both of them paid dearly for it.
Chapter Twenty
Lachlan, 21 years old
Padding naked to the bathroom, I wipe my face while rolling my eyes at the heavy sigh coming from the room. “Lachlan,” one of the females murmurs, and I barely contain myself from choking the fuck out of her.
Women tend to be annoying after sex, which means most of the time.
I get back and see two women still lounging on the bed, breathing heavily, but it inspires nothing but disgust in me.
Grabbing my pants from the floor, I zip them, and then bark, “Get the fuck out.” They quickly jump into action, their hazy gazes gone as they scramble into their clothes and leave me alone. They know better than to question my orders.
My reputation precedes me after all.
Pouring myself a glass of whiskey, I take a large gulp while placing the cigarette in my mouth and lighting it up. Stepping onto the balcony, I take a deep pull and close my eyes, enjoying the thrill that rushes me as I gaze on my empire... as I like to call it.
For the last six years, life has turned into bliss.
Serial killer bliss at that.
Old Dmitri wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t have much time to live and needed an heir. He died—well, not without a little help from me and Jax—when I was sixteen and left all his businesses to me, including the killer-training one.
I quickly shut everything down and let his advisors handle the business side of things. Instead, I’m studying a lot. I enrolled for a medical degree, majoring in surgery, and I decided to get a minor in psychology. In my spare time, I’ve studied ancient torture methods and explored different cultures with their input into such stuff so I can have one hundred percent knowledge on the subject.
And thanks to all this, I outgrew this place, my mansion as I call it, but in truth… my university.
I’m about to take another sip when a loud commotion from behind me grabs my attention, while loud voices shout, “Are you insane? He doesn’t—”
Whatever Levi wants to say dies on his lips apparently as someone pushes into the room, almost breaking the door, and looks at me, breathing heavily. “Lachlan Scott?” he asks. Authority laces his voice, and my brow rises at this.
He is around eighteen years old, bulky, and has several scars on his hands.
Scars I’m painfully familiar with.
But he must have escaped his kind of hell, judging by the expensive clothes he is wearing.
“I tried to stop him, Lachlan, but he—” My raised index finger shuts Levi up, and I wave him off. A beat passes, and then the door closes after him quietly while I still hold the teen’s stare.
“And you are?” I fire back as he straightens. He has the fire, but no actual skills to defend himself against men like me.
I put on my hoodie that’s lying nearby, as he replies, “You can call me Sociopath.”
It means nothing to me. “And real name?” What is this? We will introduce each other by nicknames now?
He shakes his head, and says, “It doesn’t matter.” I can’t help but chuckle at this, because the guy seriously has a fucking nerve coming here and talking to me like that.
“I want to be your student.”
“You don’t say?” I exhale smoke. “Last time I checked, the admissions office was closed.”
He fists his hands, as stubbornness enters his expression and he puffs his chest. “I know about you. Just teach me. That’s all you need.”
Sipping my drink, I ask, “Why would I waste my time on you?” He must have expected my question, as he takes out papers from his jacket and extends them to me.
Grabbing them, I quickly scan through them, and then it dawns on me.
He is an heir to Eugene Harrison, and fuck, the story of that man was brutal. But he also has assets that are valued around one hundred million. “It’s yours if you teach me.”
Throwing it on the floor, I smirk. “I’m rich. And I don’t teach random people. Look, Sociopath, or whatever the fuck your name is,” I start and notice his teeth grit. “Don’t know how you found this place, nor do I fucking care. But I don’t work with teenagers. Find something better to do and move on.” I finish and spin around, done with this conversation, because I raise murderers and killers.
I teach an art form. And I’m not going to waste it on a dumb teen who seeks peace he’ll never find. “I know his real name,” he says, and my glass pauses midway to my mouth, my breath freezing as coldness slips into my bones. “Where he lives. What he does. Everything.” With each word, the ringing in my ears increa
ses as images of the past assault my memory, vivid, as if they happened yesterday.
Pastor. I can’t locate him no matter how hard I try, and I wasn’t able to crack Dmitri about it either. One of the reasons keeping him alive had no point.
I still stay silent, while he clears his throat then throws his ultimatum at me. “I will tell you, once you make me as skillful as you in torture.”
It will take years.
Glancing at him over my shoulder, I see something I haven’t paid attention to before. Resolve and deep sorrow that knows no end, a raging inferno that won’t be gone until all the scores are settled. If it’s not me, then someone else will introduce the kid to this. He chose this path and nothing will sway him from it. And I don’t doubt he knows Pastor, because his father had quite the connections all over the place. Probably Luke, one of his most trusted men, had the information I need, but he won’t ever share it with me without Eugene’s son’s permission. Luke was probably the one who dug deep enough to find my past.
I might as well teach him and get what I so desire.
One way or another, he will know that once you step into this life there is no going back. And no matter how many people you kill, it will never be enough.
Because whenever you gaze into the mirror, you will see the same tortured soul looking back at you.
New York, New York
January 2018
Lachlan
“Where is she?” I roar, while the police along with Levi hold me back. I’m about to choke the living shit out of the one who just told me there has been a car accident.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but she is dead, along with your—”
I grab him by the collar, shaking the life out of him while his eyes fill with fear, and other men have no power to snatch him away from me.
“She is not dead. Search the fucking cliff!”
“Lachlan, that’s enough.” Levi’s stern voice brings me back to the present as he finally manages to unlock my hands from the police officer and gives him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. He is very emotional. His fiancée was there after all.”
The officer nods, adjusting his clothes. “I understand. It doesn’t change the truth though.” He shakes hands with Levi and walks off to the crime scene while I pace like a raging beast trapped in a cage.
“Lachlan, you need calm down. John is dead.”
“You found his body. Not hers. He has her, Levi. He got to her,” I shout in his face, while he stands there stoically, not even a muscle twitching on his face.
“Wasn’t that what you wanted?” he asks, and I still, while he huffs in disapproval. “I warned you time and time again not to play with her. You didn’t listen.”
“I sent her home.” I emphasize each word, almost spitting them, and he nods.
“Yes, you sent her home after taunting him. You should have known better.”
I growl, fisting my hair and glaring at the sky.
Not for one second do I believe in this carefully staged act of Valencia’s death.
My creator got my angel.
Where did he take her?
“Lachlan, focus—” But he might as well speak to a stranger, because the ringing in my ears deafens me to anything else.
He got his hands on Valencia when I wasn’t looking.
My trap for him had a trophy after all, but not for him.
As he won once again.
The roar that erupts from my throat can probably be heard miles away.
Chapter Twenty-One
Somewhere in the world…
Fall 2018
Valencia
As I roll to my side on the bed, my brows furrow and I wince at the uncomfortable sensation down my back that woke me several times during the night.
I place my palm on my stomach and my eyes widen, because it’s slightly flatter than usual, and when the wetness around my thighs registers, I gasp in shock.
My water broke, which means all this discomfort is labor.
I’m only eight months pregnant; he is probably not fully developed yet.
No, no, no.
“No, darling,” I say, sitting up and crying out in pain as a contraction shakes me. My skin is coated in sweat and I can barely move. I hear my heart buzzing in my ear while unimaginable fear along with a lot of other emotions travel through me.
Soon, it’s too soon. I can’t give birth here when I’m alone, when he is so small.
When he has no chance of surviving this. I’ve fought for us for so long; we can’t lose now. “Come on, darling, please stop,” I beg, although it’s useless, as nothing can stop his birth now. “Someone help me,” I scream, grabbing the sheets tightly in my hands and placing my legs in a more comfortable position. I do my best to breathe evenly as my baby tries to push out, but he can’t do that when there is no one to meet him. “Someone!” I try again, although only a miracle at this point will save us with these soundproof walls. “Please!” An anguished cry scratches my throat as pain rips through every part of me, and for a second I feel like I’m sliding into oblivion, my strength and control slipping away, but then a voice from the past whispers in my ears.
“She never knew nightmares. Until she became mine.” And that voice soothes me in a way that brings me peace and I will myself to hold on for the sake of our baby.
Lachlan, he was supposed to be here. How could he have left me with him?
I imagine his teasing smile, as he whispers, “Is that all you are capable of, angel?”
“I can’t, Lachlan,” I rasp, licking my dry lips. But then I know I will, because I have to save our son.
Even if he doesn’t know about him.
Another cry tears from me, and this time the door opens, as the nurse’s voice says, “What is this—” The sound of shattered glass bounces off the walls, as she shouts, “Help! She is giving birth! Help!” I rest on my elbows, breathing evenly, trying to hold on until they bring someone to help.
And then he rushes inside, muttering, “No!” He runs his fingers through his hair as his golden rings glisten in the light. “I cannot lose this boy,” he says as if in a trance, and I want to weep.
Because the monster who put me through my greatest nightmare wasn’t my captor turned lover.
No, it was my father.
A father who is very much alive.
New York, New York
Fall 2018
Lachlan
I sip the last drop from the whiskey bottle and with a loud roar throw it over the banister, and seconds later, it crashes loudly on the concrete, the sound of shattered glass echoing through the silent night.
I should have never let her go; then she wouldn’t have gotten in the car accident and been vulnerable to that fucking father of hers.
But then again, he is not a monster to her; he is a monster to everyone else. And between the two of us, he is her safest bet.
That’s just the way of the world.
But she is mine.
And he doesn’t get to have anything of mine anymore.
I’ve been going insane all these months, searching and searching, finding missing links, but none of them had any information for me, no matter what I dished out on them. I haven’t slept, haven’t properly eaten, my mind always with my angel. He fucking abducted her and took her to a place even I couldn’t track. I don’t trust that fucker to be kind to her, even if he loves her.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I press the Accept button on the fourth ring. At once, Sociopath’s voice speaks in my ear. “Lachlan.” I don’t reply, because I haven’t heard a question, and with him, it’s always coming. He doesn’t contact me for the fuck of it. “I think I found something.”
Everything inside me stills, and the air leaves my lungs as I squeeze the phone in my hand so tight I think I might crush it. “Get ready.” I don’t wait for his reply as I throw the phone on the floor and spin around to quickly grab my gun and everything else in preparation of the specific plan.
I need my best m
en on this mission, and I only have four people in this world I trust, my best students.
I gave Valencia the choice, but that choice only led to destruction and pain.
No more fucking choices. She is going to stay my captive forever.
It’s easier to concentrate on the anger and fury at the man who destroyed my life than the fear and destruction at the prospect of forever losing Valencia. Whatever happened to her is my fault, because I wanted to use her as a decoy.
However, when I let her go, I gave up on luring Mark away from his shadows and wanted to do it differently. But like the coward he is, he attacked when no one expected him.
Time to remind him he’s no longer dealing with a small boy, but a man on a mission to get back what belongs to him.
No one takes away what’s mine.
Especially not Pastor Moore.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lachlan
The clock is ticking loudly, tick tock tick tock, and I drum on the table to the beat of it while four of my most trusted men sit at the round table with me, pondering my last words. I just explained the situation to them and await their answers. Although back in the day I helped them all out, I never asked for anything.
Only loyalty.
It’s one thing to teach a serial killer an art form.
It’s another to trust one.
Jaxon speaks first, leaning his elbows on the table. “How do you know his location?”
My mouth lifts in a half smile, because if he asks for details, it means yes.
But then again, Jaxon MacAlister’s loyalty to his family is legendary. And oddly enough, I know he considers me one for what we did a few years ago. Spit that loyalty in his face though and he will be dangerous.
Fucking lethal.
He is the head of the mafia, after all.
That’s another story though, so I reply, “I know someone who knows it.” My finger presses the remote and the TV slides up from the middle of the table. On the screen is room number two, where a man is chained to the chair, tugging on his restraints and mumbling something through the tape on his mouth.