by V. F. Mason
Jaxon will handle the security guys while I need to create panic, but it has to be unexpected. In this play, each one of us has a specific role, and we cannot allow the audience to leave before the grand finale.
Before she can spin around, I grab her by the nape, and she struggles in my arms as I wrap my hands tightly around her neck, choking her when I press on her artery with enough force for her to faint but not die.
As she gulps for breath but can’t do it, I study her unmistaken beauty. Lake-green eyes that hold so much fear and pain, a perfect combination, blonde locks that fly around with the wind, and pale skin that shows every vein.
Her full mouth with pink lips, which call out to draw blood from them, are another form of art though, making her almost a living porcelain doll.
What a magnificent creature, like a wounded bird that can never find a nest.
Finally, she slumps in my arms, and I place her on the ground outside the fence boards.
I chuckle, looking at the silent town with around twenty houses, and one huge-ass church that sits in the center of it.
Pastor Mark will soon learn that yet another empire of his has burned to the ground. What a grand punishment indeed! At the same time though, it’s sad to use fire, my oldest and best friend, on such an imbecile.
The match lights and I drop it to the ground, letting the fire rapidly spread, burning the powder like in a chain, moving and moving where I spread it, and surrounding the town in the flames. It won’t harm anyone but will be enough so that they will start running around, and it’ll be easy to call the feds.
As long as it keeps burning, and I made sure of that.
For a moment, I’m mesmerized by the orange flames and the power they represent. Thrill penetrates my bones and I inhale deeply, basking in the smell of burned ground.
It’s quickly gone though and the voices come back.
Screams, and screams, and screams.
And just like that, my five-second reprieve is over and I have to come back to reality.
Until the next time.
Clicking the call button on my phone, I inform Jax, “I’m done. Your turn.” I hang up, not waiting for a reply, as it’s time for me to go.
My eyes land on the beauty still lying on the ground, and I tip my head to the side, drinking her in, and imagine what it would be like to show her different kinds of fires.
Would it inspire more fear on her doll-like face? As she really shines then.
Without dwelling on it much, I kneel down and scoop her up in my arms, propping her more firmly on my chest, and disappear into the night with a trophy.
No one said I couldn’t leave with a little souvenir from this trip.
Valencia
Standing up, I fall back on the bed as my knees wobble. Groaning into the pillow, I pull at the sheets and lift myself up again, breathing heavily as I glance at the door, which is still wide open as noises come from outside.
Father left in haste; the message on his phone seemed important enough that he didn’t even remember to lock me up. That’s unusual to say the least.
But I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and accept it as divine intervention. Although at this point, I think I’ve accepted that it not always comes on time.
Sometimes it waits to teach you a lesson.
Grabbing the rail at the end of the bed, I move slowly, and each step brings more pain but relief as my muscles learn anew the action after being kept on the bed for so long.
I rest by the headboard, gulping breath while groaning loudly. It would be so easy to lie back down and gaze at the ceiling; this escape probably won’t bring anything much anyway.
They will hunt me down with one of their cameras and punish me even more, bringing agony with them and probably stripping my desire to live for good. Is the fight really worth it?
But all this lasts for only a second as the cry of my baby echoes in my ear.
My baby.
They didn’t even let me hold her, just took her away as if she belonged to them.
As if she wasn’t mine.
She doesn’t have anyone but me. I can’t give up.
“Mommy will find you,” I whisper, and fist my hands while turning and letting go of the wood. I move toward the door, each step surer than the previous one as I ignore everything else but the deep understanding that it’s now or never.
And that’s when a man shows up in the doorway, reminding me of an angel with his long, black hair and hazel eyes that are devoid of any emotion. His powerful presence almost wills my energy to listen to him
Angel of death.
“Fuck,” he mutters, scanning my appearance from head to toe, and I step back, franticly searching for any kind of weapon and failing, because Father wouldn’t have left any objects here.
But then something glistens in the night, and I realize it’s the knife Father dropped on the floor when they messaged him. I rapidly stoop and pick it up, pressing it against my neck, right on the artery. I guess my adrenaline is running high, allowing me to do the impossible even with my body functioning in half measures. “You come any closer, and I will kill myself.” Despite all the things he put me through, Father keeps me alive.
So his dogs won’t touch me with that threat looming over their heads.
The stranger raises his hands, but he still holds the gun and speaks softly with a slightly rough tone as if his throat is permanently bruised. “Valencia, I’m not going to hurt you. Just—”
My bitter laughter interrupts him as he thins his lips, clearly displeased with it.
Yeah, well. Fuck him.
But then it dawns on me, and I scream, “Just be compliant, right? No way! Take me to her or I will kill myself.” He doesn’t look like a guy who is someone’s bitch, and if he holds a higher position in Dad’s prostitution and trafficking chain or whatever the hell this place is, he must know where my child is.
His brows furrow, as he asks gently, “To who?”
“To my daughter. Take me to her.”
His eyes widen in shock as strange emotions cross his face and he speaks into the radio that he takes from his back pocket. “Jaxon, you here?”
There is a buzzing sound, and the man on the other end of the line replies, “Yeah, what’s up?”
“You found the kids?”
Found them? Why would they do that? Based on what I understood, Father kept these women with the kids freely roaming in the town until they came of a certain age. Last time he talked about it, he claimed, because of Lachlan, he now has only three boys for the taking.
How on earth he is still alive surprises me. I’d say he deserves death, but it would be an easy out for him.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Was there an infant?”
A longer pause, and then, “Several actually. But there is one that is in the basket with an elderly woman watching over her. A little girl.”
I cover my mouth with my hand as tears roll down my cheek, because it means she is alive.
I almost fall to the ground as relief brings so much happiness. He didn’t sell her; she is here! All I need to do is get to her and manage to call someone so they will know to come here and do something.
My eyes blur, but I slap myself, searching for clarity. No time for weakness when I’m so close to winning.
The big man exhales, rubbing his chin. “Thank God. Keep an eye on her. She’s Lachlan’s.”
Lachlan’s.
Oh my God.
My tortured monster came after me, and this guy must be his protégé.
Sociopath, Shon, Arson, Jaxon, Isabella, and Amalia.
And he sent Sociopath after me, because those hazel eyes of his are hard to miss. I don’t have to be strong anymore. My daughter is in safe hands, Lachlan is here, and the man standing in front of me will protect me from any harm.
The knife drops from my hand with a loud clank as I sway to the edge of the bed behind me, and he quickly crushes me to his chest, cursing. “My baby is al
ive?” I ask, and he winces but nods, barking into the radio. “We’re coming, man.” With that, he puts it back into his pocket and picks me up, and I have nothing else to do but rest my head on his chest.
But before I let the oblivion consume me, one bright thought nags my mind. If all of them are here saving other kids and disabling the security system, then where is the man behind all this?
Where is my Lachlan?
Lachlan
“I knew you would come after her.” The voice from my childhood greets me as I enter the grand hall. Lights and candles flicker, creating an almost religious and fairytale like atmosphere. “To find me.”
That fucking man is all about appearances and luxury after all.
No wonder the biggest house made out of the finest wood and steel belongs to him. This entire fucking place is almost an exact replica of the house where he selected us to entertain his guests.
It probably serves the same purpose with the customers; he just doesn’t have a good system in place right now.
And he never will.
He sits on the stage, on his golden throne, sipping wine while smirking at me, and I don’t miss the guards surrounding us who all have their guns aimed at me, ready to shoot at his command. “Sometimes she made it so difficult with her belief in you. You poisoned her mind, but I did my best to clean her up after your mess. She will be cured from a disease like you soon.”
I barely control the desire to walk up to him and snap his neck with my bare hands. Just the idea that his filthy, sick desires touched my Valencia unsettles me.
No one but me has the right to do anything to her. “Well here I am, then.”
His sadistic laugh bounces off the walls as he nods. “True. Your stubbornness will become your ultimate downfall,” he informs me, raising his glass to me and then drinking as if wine will help his situation.
Let him enjoy his small victory while he can.
“Last time we saw each other, you promised me revenge.” He spreads his arms wide, wine spilling to the ground like droplets of blood. “Did you envision it like this?”
“Pretty much,” I reply, and then cut to the chase. “Where is Valencia?” I should remember to act like an obsessed fool who came here, controlled by emotions.
To an extent, it’s true, but not the way he wants it.
“You won’t kill me until you know.” I expect him to send his soldiers at me, but he manages to surprise even me. He waves them off, ordering dismissively. “Get out. Do not disturb us unless I call for you.” They frown but follow the command, leaving one by one, while I wonder if it’s possible for my guys to kill them in the process.
They do not deserve mercy. A grown-ass man should know better than to support this fucked-up shit. The women had no choice, as they probably saw it as a sanctuary. Most of them will be crushed to realize they brought their kids from one hell to another.
But they will survive, because that’s what survivors do.
That’s what I was trying to do with Valencia too. Transform her into a survivor when she knew no nightmares, thinking it was only fair, since so many suffered because of her father. I shouldn’t have done it; no one should apologize for the sins of their father or for being happy.
Happiness shouldn’t be considered something for which people should be punished, and isn’t it ultimately what serial killers do?
Search their whole life for the happiness and euphoria that killing brings them, because they know no other way to achieve it.
“When I saw you for the first time with your aunt all these years ago in the selection process—”
“Don’t mention her,” I snap, but he doesn’t listen.
“I’ll say whatever I want. I suggest not interrupting me if you want to see my daughter.”
I grit my teeth, willing all my self-control in my fists to keep the show going.
“I thought… this is my future heir. A fighter. What your uncle did to you didn’t break you. What I did… never. You just learned more, got more skills. With a son like you, this empire could have become so much bigger. So much stronger. We could have raised generations with our values. In time, I would have even given you Valencia as my gift.” I barely contain myself from laughing in his face, because this man is delusional.
Laughing, I taunt him. “Even if Peaceful Heaven stayed untouched, I’d never have been by your side.”
He squeezes the glass in his hand, fury crossing his face. “Arrogant. Always so arrogant. You would have, because then the devil wouldn’t have tarnished your soul.”
“The devil owns it, I think. So it’s a lost cause,” I inform him, and he clearly has enough.
Fucking finally.
He flashes the gun out of his lap, aiming it at me. “Did you really think this would end with you and me? I will never give you my daughter. You shouldn’t have touched her. She is pure, and you are—”
“What you made me,” I tell him, but he shakes his head. Of course he won’t agree with it. He thinks I became a monster due to the fire. Losing my faith and all that jazz.
What an idiot.
“You lost again, Lachlan. But this time I won’t leave any loose ends.” With that, he fires the gun, and simultaneously the light on my watch beeps red.
Hiding my grin, I pretend to evade the bullets, turning to the specific side, while inside there is nothing but satisfaction.
Showtime.
Valencia
Sociopath places me in the church’s main hall, and I rest my back against the bench, gulping fresh air and scrunching my eyes under the harsh light.
People sit around us with crying kids and women soothing them gently. Several men are tied in ropes, their guns lying on the ground. If this is the entire community, then Father didn’t have enough time to build it into something big.
Thank God.
“They weren’t cooperating. The FBI should be here soon, so we really need to move before they show up.” He puts his hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring smile. “You can tell them everything, and then they will take you home.” I read the meaning between the lines easily; they can’t be around for the feds. So it will be up to me to explain everything as believably as possible without mentioning any of their names.
But in this moment, all this has secondary meaning to me. “My daughter?” He lifts a chin to his right, and I follow his gaze to see a dark-haired man walking toward us, holding a bundle in his arms.
He gives me a weird look and then puts her in my open arms, and for the first time ever, I hug my little bean close. She is sleeping, munching on the pacifier so peacefully it breaks and mends my heart at the same time. Running my finger over her gentle face, I can’t stop the tears falling on her, as I murmur, “Hi, baby girl.” She shifts a little, and I lift her up, pressing my cheek against hers, rocking her from side to side, empowering love flowing from me as everything else ceases to exist in this moment.
There is only me, and her smell, her breath, and just her. I never imagined meeting my child for the first time under the current circumstances, but at the same time, it’s a dream come true. All the pain, all the suffering, even the psychological torture experienced back in the mansion is worth it, because it gave me her.
I always heard women say that you fall in love with your baby fast, but I never believed it. But how can I feel anything but love for her when she has been under my heart for eight long months, the scariest months of my life?
“I wouldn’t have survived without you,” I murmur into her ear, giving her a light peck on the forehead. “I’m so happy no one hurt you.” I hiccup, sending a prayer to God, thanking him for keeping her safe despite all the odds.
She is a fighter, just like her dad.
“Lachlan?” I address the man, who is Jaxon, I assume. “If you are all here, where is he?”
They share a long stare and then sigh heavily, while Jaxon motions for Sociopath to speak. “He is a bit busy right now.”
“Busy?” Disbelief laces my voice,
as I rock my daughter in my arms. “He’s not here with me in all this madness… because he’s busy?” What kind of bullshit is this? He would have never allowed other men, even his most trusted students to…
No.
Licking my chapped lips, I say without any hint of question in my tone. “He went after my father, didn’t he.”
They stay silent, but that is enough.
Feds.
If they want to leave before they show up, it means they had a specific plan in motion, a plan orchestrated by Lachlan.
Till my and his death.
He didn’t go to my father with the hope of finding me with him or obtaining revenge.
He went after him to finish everything where it all started.
In Pastor’s mansion.
Lachlan
Blood is slipping through my fingers as I hold my side where the bullet entered my liver, bringing pulsing pain from it along with the bullet in my thigh. I sway back a little as Pastor continues to laugh, standing up from his throne and crashing the glass against the wall, crunching it even more under his leather shoes.
“All your reputation is nothing compared to my power.” His footsteps are exceptionally loud, as I can’t stand straight anymore and fall on my knees, breathing heavily, hanging my head as blood soaks my sweater. “The power is not in torture skills,” he shouts in disgust, “but in knowing the weaknesses of your opponent. You were always stupid. Egocentric. Had no chance for anything. Valencia was supposed to be what?” He reaches me, stepping on my hand, and I stifle a groan. “Your weapon against me. A decoy that would catch the hunter. And how did that work for you?” he asks, kicking me in my wounded side, and I breathe in, not giving him the satisfaction of the burning that consumes me. “I killed your aunt and cousin.” He kneels down, fisting my hair and bringing it up so our eyes meet, his wildly excited and mine void of any emotion. “And I will kill you too. So my daughter can be free from the dirt you smeared her in and start her life anew. With the right man picked by me. My empire will thrive, and you’ll be forgotten like the piece of trash that you are,” he says, putting the gun to my heart, and that’s when my mouth spreads in a wide smile.