Oh no.
He didn’t die in the fire Arson created?
And how did he find me anyway?
His men are pointing guns while he licks his lips, scanning me from head to toe before barking, “Cuff her and get her to the car.” He shifts his attention to Jimena, who instead of staying behind me—I’m trying to protect her due to her condition—stands next to me. “This girl too. She is too beautiful to pass up.”
Is he insane to do something like this in the club? This is not “heaven,” where he can act as he pleases with everyone keeping their mouth shut.
“This time around, there will be no daddy to save you, Chloe,” he announces, his sadistic laughter filling the space that should as always send chills down my spine.
But it doesn’t.
His men step toward me, so I scream the only name that will make it all better.
The only monster I can summon, knowing he has the power to get rid of them all and not hurt us in the process.
The monster who is my captor yet treats me like his most beloved possession.
“Arson!”
The scream torn from my throat could have awoken the dead.
Arson
Reading the invitation in my hand, I carefully note all the names who will be present at the gala and how Caspian plays into the role.
In the recent years, he’s built a name for himself, a notorious engineer who thinks fucking globally, claiming to care about the future of the next generations.
He and his best friend are on the verge of opening another company that deals with security, according to them, to create a fire alarm no one will be able to fool and it will work all the time.
And thanks to his charisma and the previous projects where he secured most of the buildings, everyone is willing to give him even more money, not knowing what hides behind the façade of this perfect man.
A killer who only wants to build buildings and fire alarms so he can destroy them and appreciate the fruits of his creation.
“I’ll deal with this,” I tell Santiago who nods, and then I notice something from the corner of my eye, turning toward the table where the girls are supposed to be.
But it’s empty.
“Where are they?” I scan the club but can’t locate them anywhere, so I throw the invitation back on the table and stride back to my table with the guys right behind me.
Not finding them there, I look around once again, only to freeze when Chloe’s scream echoes through the space from the hallway and twists me from inside out.
An unfamiliar feeling washes over me, making me almost nauseous while sweat breaks on my skin.
Fear.
Fear for Chloe.
I take off in the direction of the scream, hearing loud thumping behind me but not paying attention to that, instead zeroing my gaze on the women’s bathroom door where two guards stand and block the exit. I haven’t seen them before.
They point their guns at me, snarling, “Look the other way, buddy.” My fists are so fast though they both drop to the floor within a second. I pick up the guns and jump through them then barge inside, coldness sinking into my bones along with the barely controlled fury that will know no mercy.
A man around my height looms above Chloe and Jimena, while his guards hold their guns. I move closer and closer to them, and his words register in my head. “I will first fuck you, of course. Make you choke on my dick just like I promised you all those times before.” He chuckles and then skims his finger over Jimena, who slaps his hand away. “You will be next. Two beautiful women tonight for me. What more could a man ask for? Indeed, it’s the best club in the country.”
My anger snaps into fury, and the beast inside me roars.
Chloe hisses at the man; they still haven’t noticed me. “I hate you, Marcello, and go to hell. Arson!” Her shout rocks off the walls, while both women press harder into the corner, but once again the fucker laughs.
“This is not the way to behave with your fiancé, Chloe.”
Fucking what now?
He extends his hand, most likely to touch her, so I shoot each guard in the back of the head and then grab him by the jacket, and he mutters, “What the—” But then it transforms into a yelp of pain when I push him into the sink, enjoying the cracking sound coming from his skull.
Pulling him back slightly, I repeat the action, and a smile curves my lips when blood drips into the white porcelain, alerting that I’ve managed to break something.
It will do for now.
Letting go of him, I spin around to face Chloe, but she is already running to me, wrapping her hands tightly around me while I trap her in my arms, hating how she trembles in them. “It’s okay. I’m here.” It might not be the kind of reassurance she wants, but since she called my name, it should calm her down, right?
“I’m not his fiancé,” she says, her voice harsh, but at the same time she almost hiccups on every word. “I’m not his fiancé!” The way hate laces these words, I know it’s a sore subject, and even if she was, I don’t give a fuck.
Only the devil knows what that fucker Pastor subjected her to in his fucked-up “heaven.” She fists my shirt, hiding her head in my chest, and I feel the fabric getting wet.
Fuck me. Is she crying right now? That’s one thing I can never handle, even if I’m the source of her greatest pain. When survivors shed tears, it means they’ve reached their emotional breaking point.
I hear several loud groans and yelps before the guys fly inside. Florian is the first, and as his gaze lands on Jimena, he makes a move toward her but is pushed to the side when Santiago follows him, rushing to his sister. “Hermana, estas bien?” He palms her head, studying her body before he hugs her, rocking her from side to side.
She sighs but accepts his embrace despite her reputation as a hellion who drives Santiago insane.
She pats his back, murmuring, “Todo esta bien.” I don’t miss how Florian’s hands fist before he relaxes them again, spinning around as if he can’t stand to look at them both, and I catch Octavius’s stare as he shakes his head.
What in the fuck?
Does this mean…
The end of Four Dark Horsemen if he ever goes there. Santiago will never forgive him for touching his little sister.
But the woman I’ve claimed as mine continues to whisper something, pushing the thoughts of anyone else away, and I lean back as she says louder this time, “Pastor promised me to him. To make an alliance. He sold me to him and his father, Oliver Smith.” Tears slide down her cheeks, and her emerald pools become vivid in her face. “Marcello’s father operates a child trafficking ring. He would have let Pastor destroy the lives of all the boys there if I married him. I wanted to run away to escape that or die.” Her hysterical laughter echoes in the place while all of us freeze, my blood getting cold while my whole body vibrates with the desire to beat the shit out of the guy again who whimpers in pain on the floor.
However, I can’t let go of Chloe, who digs her nails into my back, pressing herself so close to me I’m surprised she is still breathing normally. “But even in your captivity, I can’t escape him,” she whispers and burrows her head in my chest again, while I barely control my movements to not squeeze her too hard in my desire to comfort her and to rip Marcello to shreds.
Above her head, I meet Santiago’s and Callum’s stare; the energy swirls around us and awakens the monsters who usually hunt during the night, but sometimes their prey comes to their doorstep on their own.
Marcello Smith will regret he ever took a single breath of air for the sins he has committed to my woman and everyone else.
First things first though.
“Call Lachlan.” I address Callum, because even though he is not exactly the rule follower, he won’t try to go against my request like the dark four. “He will deal with their business.” Then my gaze lands on the fucker whose whole face is bloody. He tries to get up, but I kick him hard in the spine, and he cries out, falling back on his stomach.
Not that it brings me any satisfaction—only his insides scattered all over my dungeon will do that.
“Take him to Lachlan’s mansion.” By how Santiago and Callum’s eyes flash in annoyance, I know they are holding back from snapping at me for barking orders like that, but they are considerate of the women inside.
Mama raised them right, although the whole raising right only applies to Santiago. Among the three of us, he is the only one who had a good one.
With this, I pick up Chloe in my arms, and she doesn’t protest. She burrows her face into my neck, not looking at anyone else as I stroll past everyone, taking her home.
I rein in the monster raging inside me for retribution, because my captive is crying in my arms.
Once she calms down though, all bets are off.
She will tell me exactly what he did to her or promised to do to her.
So he can choke on his fucking words while I torture him over and over again.
Callista
The wind whooshes in, slapping my face and blowing my hair back when Arson opens the car door, letting the cold air slip in.
I grip the lapels of the coat, hugging myself in it and hoping to keep the warmth surrounding me and not let it freeze me on the spot, even though I feel nothing but dead inside.
Or maybe I just still shake from the fear from earlier that grabbed me by the throat with its invisible hand, depriving me of oxygen while reminding me what my life has been like.
Marcello found time to brag to me what he planned to do tonight, and it placed me back in all those situations where everyone felt they had the right to scare me. Where I’m nothing, just a means to an end to men’s greed.
The click of his fingers in front of my eyes snaps me out of my thoughts and brings me back to the present. I blink at him but still stay on my seat, not wanting to obey his silent command.
Not to mention how embarrassed I am to face him right now, after my hysterics in the bathroom earlier. He had to carry me all the way to the car, and then we drove in silence, since I could only stare into the distance, too afraid to utter a word for fear of breaking down once again.
He is a predator, right?
I shouldn’t have shown my weakness; now he will smell his prey’s blood and attack me, even if he saved me from Marcello.
I yelp loudly when Arson slides his hands under my knees and back, lifting me out of the car. My arms circle his neck, even as I scream, “Put me down.” He kicks the door shut, and without listening to my protests or paying attention to how I struggle in his arms, he walks to the door that he easily opens with his shoulder.
I expect him to finally let me go once we’re inside, but he does nothing of the sort and strolls to the stairs, taking two at a time as he takes us upstairs, back toward the room. I welcome the heat radiating from the walls, allowing me to bask in its warmth, although the sickness in Marcello’s eyes still haunts me.
The way he slid his gaze over me, licked his lips, and how painfully he gripped my arm… the way he craved so much to destroy me, to prove to me who the boss is over me.
So I could pay for all the disrespect and sins I’ve committed, according to him.
The familiar shiver rocks through me, a raspy breath slipping past me, and without thinking, I hide my face in the crook of Arson’s neck, needing to feel his pulse to know he is here, alive for me, and can take care of the problem.
Ironically, right now, he is the only man who can keep me safe in this hell I’m living in.
There are some advantages to having a captor after all.
“I’m capable of walking myself,” I say, my lips almost touching his skin, and he tenses but still strolls through the hall and then drops me once again, earning himself my screeching yelp.
I bounce a little on the bed and then remove my hair from my face. Sitting up on the bed, I scoot forward so the shoes won’t stain the sheets.
Arson goes to the refrigerator and takes out a bottle then flicks it open, taking a large gulp before speaking. His voice is husky and deep in the stretched silence that rattles my nerves. “Did he touch you?” He waits a bit before adding, “If you are willing to talk.”
Painting invisible lines on the black coat, I focus my stare there while answering. “And if I’m not?” Will there be a punishment for that?
Tonight, for a second, I forgot I’m his captive while he treated me like a woman… but reality quickly slapped me in the face, showing once again I can never be safe.
But when you called his name, he came.
For the first time in my life, a man hasn’t failed me.
Without thinking about it too much, I decide to spill everything; what’s the point of holding it inside? He has the right to know, considering he helped me, and I have a feeling his men are going to take care of the Smith family.
Good freaking riddance.
“He was waiting for me to come of age. Ever since the engagement, he’d corner me and promise me awful stuff.” My voice trembles and my knuckles almost turn white from how hard I’m gripping the coat. “You’ll choke on my dick, Chloe. You’ll learn obedience,” I mimic Marcello’s intonation, gazing into the distance. “I hated him so much, but I was powerless to stop him from spitting those things over and over again.” Exhaling a heavy breath, I glance at Arson who stands a few feet away from me, so I can’t study his features or see the reaction to my words. “Today, he wanted to get what was promised to him,” I finish lamely, hating how I’m just a plaything in all these men’s arms. “According to Pastor, if it wasn’t for him, it would have been someone else’s. My virginity was ‘stock’ to be sold.”
Since my gaze is cast down, I can only see his boots stepping closer to me until he stops right in front of me, and then he kneels, his index finger and thumb trapping my chin and lifting it up until our eyes clash, with his intense gray ones drilling their stare into me. “You are my captive with no way of escape.” I blink at the abrupt change of subject, while anger at his words slowly fills me. “But your virginity is not ‘stock’ for me. And never will be. Like I said before, I don’t do that. Never be afraid of it.”
My breath hitches in my throat, and my heart squeezes at the calmness and confidence in his tone as his thumb brushes over my lips. And once again, just like back in the club, I don’t feel afraid in his presence.
His touches and words don’t evoke repulsion like Marcello’s but instead ignite my body even when I saw him kill someone.
The body has no rational mind, desire has no explanation, and maybe that’s why so many women choose the wrong men; they are incapable of seeing what’s true in their heart.
But I am.
I know Arson is not a good man and never will be, yet he is the bad man who protects me from the likes of Marcello, Pastor, and their friends.
He has some morals, and I guess that’s my luck in the current situation. Another man would have taken me by force like everybody promised.
Since I stay silent, Arson winks at me yet the tension between us is still strained when he says, “Get some sleep. And don’t think about that fucker. He will never get his hands on you. Nor will any of them. I protect well what’s mine.” There is an odd note lacing his tone, like he is ready for battle any time, soon. Does a man like him even have enemies? He probably kills them all before they can shout about revenge. “Good night.” With this, he turns toward the door, about to leave me alone, and before my action registers in my brain, my hand grabs his, squeezing it hard, and he pauses, half turning to me and glancing at our hold. Then his gaze slides up to mine while I take a deep breath.
In this life, I’m an angel who fell from God’s graces into hell to live among monsters, ready to tear my flesh apart at any moment. And among all these monsters, the devil found me, claimed me as his, and kept me far away from the others. And when an old monster showed up, he protected me.
I’m so tired of always expecting the worst, always being afraid of a man taking my virginity from me without my permission.
I don’t want to be afraid anymore.
I want to do something for myself, without thinking about the consequences like back at the club.
I want the oblivion and the pleasure that I was about to experience in his arms.
So with my rapidly beating heart, I block away the voice inside me screaming it’s wrong and focus only on the one that decides to give my body freely to a man for the first time in my life.
“Don’t go,” I whisper, then gasp when he pulls me to him, pressing me flush against him, his fingers tangling in my hair as he tilts my head back.
“What do you want, my beautiful captive?” he asks, leaning forward, his breath fanning my cheeks. “You have to tell me exactly what you are asking me.”
My hands tremble a little when I push the lapels of the coat away, wiggling my shoulder so it drops to the floor, leaving me standing in front of him in my red dress and heels, his eyes darkening and filling with what I now recognize as lust. Goose bumps spread over my skin, but instead of shying away from him, I put my palms on his arms, but snatch them away and step back.
I sigh in relief when he lets me, allowing me to lead this moment without pressuring me into anything, even though I know he craves me; the possessive glint in his eyes and the firmness of his hold can’t hide it.
There is resentment too though, the resentment he probably sees reflecting back at him, because a part of each of us doesn’t want to give another such power over our emotions.
At the same time though, this knowledge allows me to let go of all my reservations and just exist in this moment with him, desperate for his touch to soothe the nightmares that will always creep in on me.
I’m not sure what happened to him to make him into the man he is right now, but life couldn’t have been kind to him.
“Voice your wish,” he orders, but instead of replying, I slip off my heels, enjoying the cold marble under my bare feet, and then my fingers fumble with the zipper at the back of my dress, tugging on it. The dress slowly slides off, the straps slipping from my shoulders to my arms, lower, as the corset loosens, ready to fall off too, but I grab them both instinctively, pressing the fabric to my chest.
Arson’s Captive Page 21