by V. F. Mason
Arson rubs his chin as his eyes light up with excitement. “Ah, torture? What are you going to do to him?”
Shon gives me a sideways glance, clearly questioning my sanity in bringing Arson here. They are close in age but never liked each other. Shon considered him too wild to tame and hated his ways of inflicting pain.
They are not for the faint of heart, that’s for sure, but then what Shon has experienced is nothing compared to Arson. Even I shudder at just the idea of it, and how fucked-up is that?
“Let’s focus on the situation,” Sociopath says, opening up the folder. “He has kept her all this time with him. We don’t know where, but you are sure she is with him?” It doesn’t surprise me he is the one to take the reins in this case; he has an aura about him that no one ever threatens his leadership.
“That was my plan,” I reply, and silence falls over the table as they shift uncomfortably. None of them says it, but I know the thought is running through their minds.
My plan.
Valencia was supposed to be my protégée and sink into the gritty world while her father watched, probably going crazy that filthy fucks like us touched his daughter. I wanted her to be forever smeared with our past and darkness, so what her father did she experienced firsthand. So many people lost lives.
He took out my family. Didn’t I deserve to show him an eye for an eye? And I knew for her, he would come from hiding, because in his fucked-up head, she was his little princess.
And then I’d have delivered my revenge.
Someday, Lachlan, she will give me grandkids and they will be my heirs. Pure blood, as no one will ever diminish her light.
His one weak spot that could have served as a decoy.
It sounds so fucking stupid and useless after everything we’ve been through. The fire and anger to punish him for days and days, so living will become worse than death, still rides hard inside me, but if it costs me her?
I need to save her. Choosing between my revenge and the woman who is mine is impossible.
To sustain my sanity, I need both, and I can’t live in the world where he continues to do whatever the fuck he pleases. He won’t hurt her; that, I’m sure of.
But his words about perfect grandchildren didn’t escape me, and I’ve been replaying them over and over through all these months. Knowing his sick ways, and since perfect Max died, he can find some perfect religious fanatic for her and make her have his baby.
Or worse, just do it through the doctors. He lost everything in the fire all those years ago, and although he built his system back, it’s not as strong as before.
Which means common sense no longer resides in that fucking creature. The idea of my Valencia pregnant doesn’t sit well with me, but I don’t give a fuck.
She just needs to be alive, and everything else we will handle. She won’t want me, but it doesn’t matter anyway. She can live happily wherever, but I will save her from her father and kill him.
Fulfill my promise to my family.
“If the dramatic pause is over, how about we go ‘talk’”—Shon quotes with his fingers—“with our guest downstairs and figure out the plan from there? It’s impossible to discuss anything without the location.”
“You don’t have to say yes,” I say, and they all freeze, probably not expecting it. They might not agree with my methods, but if they feel like they owe me one, they will go.
Each one of them has someone to go back to. They’ve built a life in the ashes of their nightmares.
As much as I want to, I cannot bark an order and drag them into this without their consent.
Jaxon sweeps his gaze through the men, and although none of them even as much as lifts a brow, he turns his attention to me and nods. “We’re in. Let’s get her back.”
Valencia
Gazing into the space, I watch numbly at how the small golden fish swims in the round aquarium, seeming perfectly content with the boundaries placed on her.
Because she doesn’t know better, or that there’s an entire ocean where she could have had complete freedom in the world. That small, glassed space is the only thing she knows, so no wonder she feels safe.
But if someone comes to destroy her perfect little world, she’ll probably die, because she has no means to get to the ocean.
No one taught her.
The metaphor seems fitting in my current situation. My father, with Victor, created a cocoon around me. A small little world where I knew no nightmares, because I lived by their rules.
Lachlan destroyed the glass, and then I was like a fish out of water before he threw me into the ocean, not warning me that in the ocean, you have to be careful who to trust and everyone is only responsible for themselves.
And I ended up in the ocean only to be swallowed by the whale.
“Valencia.” His voice brings nothing but disgust, but I don’t react, not acknowledging his presence, and he speaks again, this time coldness slipping into his tone. “Valencia, if you are going to be difficult, you are not going to see her.” Although he tries to sound regretful, he is merely bothered by my silence.
He wanted a grandson, an heir to an empire. Ever since the doctor showed him on ultrasound that it was a boy, he became obsessed with my pregnancy, claiming it was divine intervention from God.
That he was finally getting what he deserved. Even though the father of the baby was an evil spawn, his grandson would only have his blood.
After orchestrating my accident eight months ago, he brought me to this place, claiming that I can no longer live freely, as Lachlan and my mother completely ruined my faith. He told me I should accept my new home and live by his rules, and laughed a lot at the stupidity of Lachlan’s plan. He said he left me for my sake, so that I would understand the consequences of my actions and leave Jason, which in turn allowed me to see clearly and not be tempted by the demons.
He also told me no one would come looking for me, as everyone thinks I’m dead. My heart hurt for my mom, imagining what it was like for her to hear the news about her child.
Father is fucking insane, but I had no idea how deep it ran until he showed me with his cruel actions.
Beatings, interrogation chairs, knives—all opportunities to kill the baby naturally, as he called it.
He didn’t want to abort it, as it’s a sin. Killing me in the process hardly can be considered that, I imagine.
But my little warrior held on; she probably got it from Lachlan, and when the doctor told him it was a boy?
Everything changed.
He didn’t punish me anymore unless I tried to escape, but at least the beatings and kickings stopped.
Ultimately, it didn’t matter, because he took my baby from me. The minute he knew it was a girl, she became a bargaining chip in his twisted, sick game.
And I blamed Lachlan for becoming a serial killer? It’s a wonder he possesses any good qualities at all.
“Get out,” I finally reply, still focusing my stare on the aquarium, complete numbness overpowering me. I can feel him not moving, his shadow looming over me, so I pick up the glass from my nightstand and throw it at him, but he manages to dip his head as it shatters into tiny little pieces all over the floor. “Get out!” I scream, and the mask of evilness crosses his face.
He snarls, “You will learn obedience. And the minute this little girl is healed enough, I’m going to sell her to the highest bidder. She is a bad seed.” I freeze, air stilling in my lungs as my eyes widen, and for a moment, I can’t breathe from the implications of his words. “And then you will get pregnant again from someone worthy to give me a grandson.”
“You won’t do this.” His sadistic chuckle only proves he has every intention of doing it as he waves me off and goes to the door, not caring in the least about my turmoil. “Lachlan will save her.” I don’t care what happens to me, as long as my baby girl is okay.
He steps outside, but not before sneering over his shoulder, “Lachlan will not do anything. That boy was never anything but a useless pie
ce of shit. He couldn’t even properly punish you.” And with that, he closes the door, while I sit there horrified to my core.
Grabbing my hair and pulling it to the point my skull throbs, I rock back and forth while insanity threatens to destroy my mind completely.
Father finally did what Lachlan started.
Destroyed my spirit.
The angel is gone.
The monster has come and killed her.
Lachlan
Sipping his whiskey, Shon gazes with a bored expression at the one-way mirror as Arson lights the match, grazing the skin of his victim with it as the man convulses in fear. “Show off,” he mutters, and on instinct, I slap the back of his head. He rubs it, spilling the drink. “The fuck? We are wasting time, Lachlan. Tell him to speed up. You know if you let him, he can play for hours.”
All in good time, we don’t need just a name. He is saving him for a different kind of information that we write down as Sociopath types furiously on his computer, searching for the location and everything else using FBI databases.
“Bingo!” Sociopath mutters, picking up the laptop and showing the screen to me. “It’s seven hours away from New York, in a deserted location in the woods. The land belongs to some guy who is presumed dead and the man accrued the right to build shelters for abused women. They actually live there as a place of new hope or something.” Indeed, the center is advertised as such and has a bunch of stupid reviews about it.
Even the approval of a social worker, but then it doesn’t surprise me. Pastor knows how to be convincing.
“Kids,” I mutter, fisting my hands. “Most of them probably have kids. He continues to do his fucked-up shit.” And all these years, he has been under my radar. I throw the chair and it bounces off the wall, but no one says anything as they feel the same. “Shon, order a plane. Jaxon—”
“Yeah, my brothers will be there with us. But listen, the FBI—” he starts, and I nod. He takes a beat and quickly sends a message to someone on his phone while I bark into the microphone. “Arson, enough with the bullshit. Kill him already.” He is of no use to us anyway. Arson looks at the wall and shrugs.
Then pours gas on his victim and lights up the match simultaneously, stepping aside as the man screams and thrashes on the chair, and the smell of burning flesh can be sensed even here. Arson jogs to a hose, splashing water over him. The room is designed security wise for this kind of torture, since fire is one of the first things I taught.
After all, I’d learned the hard way how to fight with it.
“On the plane, we can adjust the plan. Let’s get moving.” They spring into action as I go to my room to get a specific folder to give to Levi before I go, when Sociopath’s hand stops me, bumping my shoulder.
“Is this a suicide mission for you?” he asks, and I smile, although it lacks any humor.
My friend knows everything. Instead of answering his question, I grip his shoulder tight, and confide, “Valencia is entrusted to you.”
We both know that if I want to destroy Pastor, I have to die with him. This revenge has been twenty-three years in the making, and I never envisioned a different future. This path always leads to death one way or another, and the only reason I valued my life was because I had to kill him.
Valencia will be forever free from the evils that destroyed her life. I’ll make sure of it.
Once upon a time, there was an angel.
Who made the monster’s heart bleed.
Valencia
A knock sounds on the door, and then a young girl enters; she is probably in her twenties. She holds a tray of food and gives me a tentative smile. “Pastor says you need to eat.”
I blink and then erupt in laughter, which turns quickly into tears as the pain crushes my soul and sucker punches me when I try to move a little. She speeds up her steps, placing the tray on the bedside table, and wants to adjust the pillow, but I slap her away and she freezes. “Don’t touch me. I don’t need your help,” I snarl, and she casts her eyes down, defeated.
No matter how brainwashed you are, you can’t possibly think this is the way to treat a woman. She has seen my condition from the very beginning, and she follows my father’s commands blindly. And yes, I shouldn’t blame the victim, but they took away my baby.
I don’t owe anyone understanding.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, fumbling with her fingers.
“If you are sorry, then let me go.” The request is irrational, because I can’t move; my body is too weak from the birth, but the implication is all the same. She can call for help or do something. Instead of standing there like a freaking lamb ready for slaughter.
“I can’t.” She jumps at my strained chuckle, but I just shake my head, exhausted by it all.
“Leave. I don’t want food.” Extending my arm, I throw it on the floor, making everything tumble and splash around us, and she quickly moves to the side. “Get out!”
“He is doing it for the greater good. For us,” she says, and I catch her gaze, my eyes widening.
“This is not a greater good for me. Do you even have any idea what he does to the kids here?” I suppose a leopard doesn’t change his spots with years, and I know all these women have kids here. He wears expensive watches and rings; they don’t come from a side business, especially since he keeps this place for his own ego and power, and for the kids.
How many poor women fall into his trap? Thinking they are getting away from whatever they are running from and getting their kids into a nightmare? My father is a born actor. He probably never touches an adult, providing them with the best care and lots of promises.
But the kids?
“You are mistaken. He takes care of everyone. He never touches any of them, just teaches them at Sunday school. It’s your illness speaking.” She places her hand on my chest, but I push it away, yet she stubbornly holds it there. “Your heart is broken. But it can be mended with faith.”
“This is not faith,” I hiss in her face and shake her as she steps back, shocked. “Get the hell out of here.”
“Forgive my daughter, Chloe. She is sick.”
Chloe nods, scoops up the tray, and, with a bow, leaves us alone.
Chloe.
Logan’s sister was just three years old. Chloe. We doted on her. He lost her. Because of your father.
Lachlan shared a lot of random stuff while inflicting pain on that man in room number seven. Among it all, he mentioned how Logan’s self-destruction always had to do with his sister.
Can it be her?
Dad chuckles, rubbing his beard. “It’s still so easy to read your mind, Valencia, after all these years. You were always a smart child. Yes, it’s her.” Not allowing me to dwell on it, he sits on the edge of my bed, cupping my cheek, and I try to jerk from his hold, but he doesn’t budge, almost bruising my skin. “This stubbornness has to end, my child. You have things waiting for you.”
“You are crazy!” How does this kind of craziness escape everyone’s radar? He was just a regular dad who always supported me and never, ever shouted at me. Are people like him born with such masks that hide their evil from good people?
But more importantly, do I hold any of those traits if he is the one who sired me? Lachlan blamed me, claiming I had to answer for the sins done by my father.
I didn’t believe him back then, but I should have.
Out of the two of them, he ended up being more honest. “I built a community here.”
“On the bones of innocent children?”
He huffs, while I fight his hold on my chin and wince. “I give them a new home, new meaning. They love their rules that keep them ready for heaven. They are happy. And kids… they pay a small price for our peace here. Besides, most of them grow up quite well. Last time I checked, Logan became a rock legend. And Lachlan… he is a piece of shit, but he built an empire. Look what my teachings gave them!” It’s impossible to reason with him; clearly, he is in crazy land for good. “No empire or country is built without losses.”
He flicks something in his other hand, and then cold metal presses against my throat as he clucks with his tongue. “Maybe it’s better to kill you, because you will bring nothing but trouble.”
“And you will commit a sin?”
“It’s not a sin if the child doesn’t see the right way.” I should be afraid, but there is this calmness in me that surprises even me.
He won’t do it, because he needs his pure bloodline or whatever he mumbled about during my torture. I just need my child and to hold on.
Lachlan will never leave us to him. I know it. He doesn’t know what love is; I’m not delusional enough to believe that. But he considered me his and my father stole me from him.
Dad might think he is invincible, but he is not. And my Lachlan will rescue his angel.
His phone vibrates and he slides it open, and whatever he reads there changes everything.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Arson
Whistling loudly, I walk nonchalantly to the edge of the town, dragging an open gunpowder bag.
Two men notice me and startle. “What the he—” I fire at them with my silenced gun and they fall to the ground with a loud thud. I shake my head.
This quick death is an embarrassment for me, but oh well, no time to play. Too bad I can’t light their bodies as well so they will burn to the ground and their ashes would forever stay in the fucked-up prison they so carefully guarded.
Finally, the powder runs out. I kick the bag to the side and take out matches as Shon’s voice annoys me through the earpiece. “For fuck’s sake, light it!” If he were here, I’d flip him off. What a fucking jealous prick.
Sighing heavily, I’m about to do that when I notice a woman standing in front of me, her mouth hanging open as her eyes roam around everywhere, and she whispers, “No intruders.” She is probably going to scream and call for help, and this is not part of our plan.