Palming her head, I rub her cheeks while worry for a second crosses her face, but then she gives a clueless look, clearly not understanding what’s going on.
Ah, my innocent angel. If you only knew how I wish I could let you go so you wouldn’t have to live in the dark.
Yet darkness is the only thing I can offer you.
“Nothing on this earth has the power to tear you away from me. I’d find you even in the pit of hell, dragging you back with me if I had to.” A raspy breath leaves her, her gaze softening. “Life with me will not be easy.” She avoids my gaze, but I grab her chin, lifting it so our eyes meet again. “But I can promise you one thing. You can do whatever you want as long as you remember you are mine.”
Her brows furrow, yet I see traces of hope in her emerald pools. “I don’t understand.”
Bringing her closer to me, I place a gentle kiss on her forehead before telling her, “You won’t be my captive anymore, Chloe. And in such, whatever you want to do or makes you happy, you can do it. Even become a doctor.” She gasps, her nails digging into my chest, but we don’t pay attention to that, our focus on each other. “You’ll just be forever mine.” My hands thread through her hair before fisting it harshly. “But if you ever try to leave me….” I don’t finish this sentence, because we both know what will happen then.
In our dark and twisted fairytale, there is no escape from the beast.
Our mouths connect with a deep kiss, claiming her as mine and sealing out fates together forever.
I wish for my angel to never ask me for my heart.
For how can I give something I no longer have?
* * *
The ringing of the phone along with the shower running penetrate through my sleep, making my eyes open to assess my surroundings.
I relax when my room comes into view and immediately touch the other side of the bed only to find it empty, explaining the water running.
The minute thoughts of the water sliding down her naked form click in my head, it makes my dick hard, and I throw off the blanket, ready to join her, when the ringing of the phone once again registers in my ear.
Who in the fuck is so insistent?
I locate the thing on my nightstand, where I put it a few hours ago before we fell asleep again after Chloe woke me up to feed her.
Seeing the name flashing on the display, I frown but slide my finger over it. “Yes?”
Silence greets me for a second before a deep voice replies, annoyance evident in every word. “A little more respect, Arson.”
“What do you want, Lachlan?” Although maybe it’s a useless question in this case, I’ve expected his call any day now.
He might have been quiet all this time, letting me do whatever the fuck I wanted as long as it didn't interfere with his plans, but I knew a conversation with him was inevitable nevertheless.
Most people in our circle consider me his right hand or as they prefer to call me, second-in-command like we are some fucked-up gang or something. Only because I check sometimes on his other protégés to make sure they are not bringing chaos to all of us with their reckless actions.
Like Micaden and Madman for example, who live far away on their fucking island and think they are kings of the world—or rather oceans—ruling their small towns however they see fit.
Is it any wonder I paid them a visit, because they've turned insane and dragged us all along with them?
Yet all of them couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
I don’t take Lachlan's orders or work for him like some loyal dog who has an owner. I stay by his side, because he gave me the resources to be who I am without feeling ashamed of it or going insane. He introduced me to the darkness that has boundaries, and the ability to kill with a clear head.
Where the torture room transforms you into a hunter and not some angry animal who lashes out at anyone and anything. Where anyone would do as long as it soothes the voices in your head and the craving for blood that follows you with every breath.
Instead, every move and device has a purpose, every cry of pain is justified, and no innocent enters the basement.
None of the people I kill are saints; they do despicable things, and people should be thankful they are gone. However, none of it justifies what I do, as we all have a choice in this world. Despite what a lot of serial killers claim, our childhood doesn’t have to determine what we become in the future.
According to some statistics, there are countless children going through hell daily, yet only one percent grow up to be like us, or even worse.
The question is always why… yet I have the answer for it.
Because cruelty is the only solace keeping you alive in the darkest of hours, and if you let it, it will swallow you whole and will spit you out as someone you no longer recognize.
Someone who only wants to hurt, to kill, to watch you slowly die as the memory recreates flashbacks from the past, and momentarily a person can believe that he or she defeated the monsters from their childhood. Those who sired them and in this forever destroyed their souls.
Someone I would have become if it weren’t for Lachlan.
And anything I do for him is based only on the deep gratitude I feel toward him, and even if there is loyalty to him, it’s to the man himself and not his fucking protégés.
Who never listen to a word I say anyway, so fuck them.
So even though I want to spend the day with my woman and not hashing out things with Lachlan, I listen to my mentor. “I want a lot of things, Arson.” I hear him lighting a cigar before he speaks again, steel lacing his tone that expects no objections. “Come to my mansion right fucking now.” And with this, he hangs up on me, while I squeeze the phone harshly in my hand.
The king has issued his order and wants complete obedience.
And like the fucking dark knight I am, I follow the command, knowing there is no choice.
After all…
He is the only true family I have in this world.
Chapter Sixteen
“Fire inspires fear in people, because it’s unpredictable.
Fire inspires awe in me, because it destroys things.
Fire became my best friend when everyone else failed me.
Fire. Fire. Fire.
We are forever entwined together in a bond so strong, only death can break it.”
Arson
Arson, 7 years old
Loud screams from the hallway snap me awake, and I sit up on the floor, shivering from the cold air as the blanket slides down to my waist.
Parker still snores on the bed, money splayed all over her as a smile lingers on her face.
When I came into the room, she tried hugging me, but I pushed her away and rushed to the bathroom, where I scrubbed and scrubbed myself until my skin became so red and hurt as much as the wounds the man inflicted on me.
Then I stayed silent all through her pleas to understand her decision and how my body will make us rich within a few years and we can get away from here.
I grabbed the blanket and covered myself with it before curling up in a ball on the floor while I chanted different city names over and over, because I couldn’t scream at her to shut up.
Finally, she gave up and jumped around all over the place when the guard brought us her cut in this. She was paid well for what that man did to me, the heavy envelope so thick I thought her eyes would bulge out of their sockets.
And she even drank a bottle of wine all by herself, kissing the money soundly while incoherently chanting why she didn't think about selling my ass sooner.
In that moment, for the first time in my life, I agreed with her—maybe my mother should have aborted me.
I wouldn’t have faced last night’s misery then.
Another set of loud screams along with a weird smell brings me back to the present, and I frown and get up, going to the door.
What's going on?
Everyone has strict orders to stay in their room quietly during the day, because whores have to
look pretty for the clients at night.
I notice smoke coming from under the door and gasp, opening it up only to see people running up and down the hallway. There’s smoke filling the air, and it’s warm.
So warm that it's a little hard to breathe.
“Fire, fire! There’s a fire! Get out of the rooms!” a man shouts while banging on the doors on his way, and I swing my head to Parker who still snores on the bed.
Unbelievable!
I run to her, shaking her shoulder hard, and she finally stirs, lifting her head to me. “The fuck are you doing, kid?”
“Get up, there’s a fire!” I say, and her eyes widen, she picks up all the money around her, and then she jumps to reach under the bed, pulling a black bag out.
Shaking my head at her and not really caring what will happen to my good-for-nothing aunt, I rush back in the hallway, noticing how everyone continues to scream and run toward the exit, a lot of the people pressing their clothes to their chest.
The fire grows rapidly, the blaze in full swing at the right end of the hall where everyone is escaping from as the licks of fire spread fast, destroying everything in its wake.
I dart toward Caspian’s room to see his mom next to it, gazing into space, and I shout, “Where is Caspian?”
She is sobbing into her hand, whispering, “He went somewhere. I’m not sure. Oh, Artem, please find him. He wasn’t himself after… after....” She sobs again and I nod, pushing her in the direction of the women running to the staircase.
“Go, I’ll find him.” She doesn’t want to move, so I push harder, reminding her, “Your son would want you safe. Caspian always finds a way.”
She must believe these words and finally does as I ask, while I spin around to the sound of the door’s casing falling next to our room as Parker comes flying out, not even sparing me a glance before she runs toward the stairs.
By how heavy her bag looks, I guess she collected all her valuable things along with the heavy envelopes stashed in her shoeboxes. My aunt has more attachment to money than me, but then why am I surprised?
Maybe I should have let her burn to death instead of waking her up, so the fire could swallow her whole and destroy her beauty that’s brought nothing but sorrow to me.
The dark thought playing in my mind snaps me out of my stupor, even if I’m frightened for other reasons all together.
Not the idea that I can want something dark… but the idea that I like it so much that I almost regret not letting it happen. I must be very angry with my aunt for what she did to me, and that’s why I react this way.
With this reasoning in mind that doesn’t really soothe the confusion in me, I scream, “Caspian!” I pay no attention to the fact that my throat hurts like hell and scream again, “Caspian!” But I cough on the smoke around me as I’m pushed to the side when two more women pass me, slamming my shoulder into a nearby door.
Where the hell is he?
The fire at this point completely swallows the right wing and is coming toward me rapidly, so Caspian couldn’t be there.
He is one of the fastest kids in the whorehouse, so if he saw danger, he must have gone outside, waiting for everyone there.
I decide to go look for him elsewhere when shouts ring in my ear. It takes me a moment to realize they are coming from the other side of the door I’m leaning on.
“Someone, help us!” I recognize Betty’s voice. She must be trying to open the doorknob. “The door is locked! The door is locked!” She sounds terrified. I try it from my side, but no luck comes before another set of screams fills the hallway. I realize women are still present on the floor, screaming one after another, creating even more panic as they trample the ones who have fallen in their hurry to escape.
Chaos erupts around me, the people fighting to survive, and I cry out, “Someone is stuck!” I catch the eyes of the guard who keeps on motioning for everyone to go down the stairs, and I wave my hand frantically. “Help!” I cough again, burying my nose into my shirt as I think what to do next.
I don’t know anything about fires, but I know we can’t be near the smoke for long or it will settle in our lungs and we might die.
At least I think so.
The guard gestures his hand in a “don’t bother” motion and whistles. “Whatever. Let’s go, Artem.”
What? Is he insane?
“Artem, please help us. Mommy locked us in after I cried.” The doorknob moves back and forth as she tries to twist it around. “Please!” she whimpers, banging on the door. “Please, Artem!”
I pull at my hair, lost at what to do while the fire blazes so much it’s hard to breathe in here.
Think, Artem, think!
The key.
The guard should have the key. “I’m coming back!” I say to Betty and rush toward the man who still stands in the hallway, picking up another female who fell down and seething in her face. “Throw away your stupid clothes and move!”
He is about to go down the stairs when I snatch his sleeve, halting his movements, and ask, “The key, please give me the key to all the rooms.”
“Are you stupid, kid? Get down with me right now.” He pulls me with him, but I dig my heels into the floor, using all my strength to tug my arm back. “What fucking bullshit,” he mutters and throws the keys at me. “May you rest in peace, kid.”
I don’t bother to reply, going back in the empty hallway, but take a step back when something in the right corner blows, shaking the walls so much I think everything might crumble.
But then I resume my run, reaching Betty’s door quickly, and shout, “I’m here.” I try all the keys, my fingers trembling so much it takes me a few tries to even insert one, but when I do, none work.
I push at it with my arm, but it doesn’t help either.
Finally, I insert the right one and it opens. The twin girls come out coughing wildly with their eyes full of fear.
“We need to cover our noses.” I’m not even sure what I’m doing right now except going by instinct.
Finding three scarfs, they each follow suit and wrap one around their face and get out of the room.
We start to run to the stairs and are almost by the doorway when a loud boom rocks the entire building, the floor and ceiling shaking so hard we can barely stand straight without swaying to the side.
Collective screams of agony fill the space, and glancing down the stairs, I see fire is blazing in full force there.
Realization that they are all probably dying there makes my knees wobble, and I almost fall to the ground, frozen in time as the screams continue to come, one more pain-filled than the other with their shouts for help.
The weird smell penetrates my nostrils and I cover my ears from all this, wanting to disappear, because I can’t help anyone.
I can’t even help myself, stuck with two girls I got out of the room only to be trapped between two fires that will inevitably burn us alive.
Hot, it’s so hot, and I cough again while the girls stop on either side of me. “Artem, come on,” Betty says, as they both pull me in the direction of the stairway we always stay in.
Right, the fire escape, it has stairs outside the building that can help us down! We usually never use them in the winter, as they are so slippery one can barely stand on them, but it’s our only chance.
We get there quickly, and I push them forward first, because the fire advances from all around us. I order Betty, “The minute you are down, hide behind the dumpsters.”
She nods, as it’s the secret place us kids have that none of the guards know about.
At this point, they have better chances on the streets than staying with whoever survives this.
“Don’t come out until it’s safe. No matter what, okay?” I ask her, waiting for her to nod once again before she grabs the hand of her twin and they both walk down carefully all while I watch the street, but nothing is happening there.
Shouldn’t someone be here to put out the fire? Didn’t they call 911? Or is Madam so afraid som
eone might discover her businesses she prefers to die rather than call for help?
Only when they are safely on the ground do I send them the thumbs-ups and go myself, shivering when my bare feet almost glue to each frozen step but welcome the frigid air after the blazing heat from inside.
When I finished the first set of stairs, I see Caspian running, his eyes wide as he looks around and then exhales in relief. But he snaps his head up, anger flashing on his face when I scream, “Caspian! There you are!” Relief washes over me that my friend is okay.
I continue to walk down but stop abruptly when several cars pull up and two men in expensive suits emerge, one of them who hurt me last night.
I gasp in shock when the unfamiliar man comes closer to Caspian, places his hand on his shoulder, and squeezes it. I can see it clearly, since I’m so close to the ground now. “Good boy. I knew you’d lead me to more kids.” What? He brought them here? “Jerry, go get your boy,” he orders the man, and fear sinks into me, making me spin around to run back up, even if it’s irrational.
Right now, I can’t concentrate on the fact that Caspian betrayed me; all I can think about is that I’d rather burn alive than face this man one more time.
But the stairway is so slippery that I fall back and then over the railing, plummeting to the ground fast and landing soundly on my back. Pain envelops me, surrounding me so much the air sticks in my lungs.
My eyes gaze up at the clear, blue sky where I can see birds and snow as it falls on me, only to shift to this new man who cocks his head to the side and asks Caspian, “What do you think about him? Is he as good as you or should I send him to Philip?” I can barely keep my eyes open, the sleep pulling at me while wetness from the snow soaks me.
But I still manage to turn my head to see Caspian watching me for what seems like forever before he says, “Send him to Philip.”
“Very well,” the man replies and clicks his fingers, pointing at me. “If he didn’t break anything and lives, take him to Philip. Tell him it’s a bonus gift I have for him.” And with that, both of them leave my view, only their footsteps echoing on the ground under me.
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