I crossed the room, feeling savage at the sight of her strapped down like that, Carven’s hand all over her breast, smearing blood across her nipple. I fought the urge to tear him off her. But still, I was fucking panicked, searching that volatile blue stare for a glimpse of the madness inside.
The muscles of his jaw flexed. That icy stare was chilling. Only, he didn’t react, not the way I expected him to. Instead, he seemed almost…tortured as he pulled away from her.
“Carven…” I spoke carefully, trying my best to find a way to unfuck this situation. “You can step away from her now.”
Metal clanked from the straps’ buckles as Vivienne grunted and yanked at the bindings around her wrists. Be still, for Christ’s sake! I cut her a glare.
But the defiant pain in my goddamn ass just bared her teeth, her eyes wild and feral like the damn wildcat they’d called her. She didn’t know what she’d just done, how bad this situation was. Bits of plastic crunched under my boot as I slowly stepped forward. And she had no idea how volatile they were.
The sons were unpredictable at best, and downright terrifying at worst. I should know…it’s how I’d found them. Beaten, starved…murderous at the age of ten.
Colt was the one who stepped forward and grabbed his brother’s arm, drawing his attention, and that icy stare shifted from me to him. Life came back into Carven’s stare. It was a glimmer at first, like he’d been lured back from the edge of the abyss and from killing us all. His brother was the only one who could ever do that, not even I commanded that kind of respect, even after all these years.
“Get her out of my room, London,” Carven murmured, turning that chilling stare my way. “Now.”
I strode forward, clenched my jaw, and tried to ignore the rage in her eyes as I reached for the straps. Fuck. Fuck! I pulled the shackles free, one then the other. Her bare breasts jiggled as I grabbed her arm and hauled her up from the bed. “Move.”
I left her no time to snarl or hiss, just dragged her belligerent ass through the sons’ room and out the door. She stumbled as she went, her ankle buckling as she stepped on the console, but then she was out.
I wasted no time, glancing over my shoulder before I drove her through the open door of her bedroom. A kick, and the door closed with a bang. Then I was on her in an instant, crowding her, driving her backwards to the bed as I roared. “Do you have ANY idea what you’ve done?”
She tripped and windmilled her arms, catching herself before she fell. Savagery darkened those gorgeous brown eyes. “What I’ve done?” She clenched her fists and strode forward, pushing against me. “I’m the one locked up like a goddamn animal here. I’m the one fucking tracked.”
Tracked…
Didn’t she see what I was doing here?
Didn’t she see I was trying to…
She’ll hate you, you know that, right?
Jack Castlemaine’s words rose in my head.
“Why!” She threw her hands in the air. “Why am I here…what could you possibly want with me? You can’t fuck me, right? That’s what the contract says. Although I have no fucking idea why they’d even give a shit. But it’s there. I read it in black and white. You can’t use me, so then why am I still here, London? Why. Am. I. Here?”
Why was she here?
Why…
She was a plan fifteen years in the making. A plan B that went sideways in the most spectacular way possible and I was still trying to get it back on track. Because Vivienne Evans haunted me in ways I couldn’t understand and I loathed her for it.
She’ll hate you…
Those words stuck as I looked down, finding the bright crimson smear on her blouse. The sight hit me harder than her hand ever could. She’ll hate you…it won’t matter what you do, she’ll hate you regardless. I swallowed that sting and narrowed in on her. “You want to leave?”
She flinched, expecting a fight. “Yes.” Her voice was softer, like she was a little wary now. “I want to leave. Let me go. I’ll find Ryth, you can keep track of the both of us if you have to, but I won’t be here…with you.”
“And what makes you think she wants you?” I hated my callous tone. “She’s with her brothers, running for their lives. It’ll be hard enough staying under The Order’s radar. With you it’d be impossible. You’d get them killed, Vivienne. You’d get them all killed.”
I didn’t like the way she swallowed and looked away, hiding her pain from me…
I was the monster in her eyes. The one keeping her locked away like a criminal. Only, I was trying to save her damn life. I looked at that smear, and the soft sweep of her breasts as her blouse gaped when she turned back to me. “Do not move.” I met her stare. “I mean it.”
I headed for the door and yanked it open. The sons’ bedroom was quiet, the killing rage eased—for now. Until the next time she decided to do something stupid, like poke the damn bear. I made my way downstairs and headed for my bedroom.
Jesus, if I’d been just a few minutes later in getting there…
I’d be cleaning her blood alright, just a lot more of it.
Carven would’ve killed her. There was no doubt about that and there wouldn’t have been a damn thing I could’ve done to stop him. I opened the door to my bedroom and headed for the bathroom, remembering the way Carven flinched.
The son was acting strangely around her, the looks, the remarks.
Maybe it’d been a bad move bringing her here after all.
Maybe I should’ve kept her locked up, hidden in another compound far away from Jack Castlemaine and every other asshole who wanted to put thoughts in her head, especially about running. He sure as hell worked a number on the child that wasn’t his. Look where that almost got Ryth…killed.
But it wasn’t too late to pack her up and shove her somewhere apart from under my goddamn nose. Because the woman was well and truly under my skin.
I opened the cupboard, pulled out the Betadine, swabs, and gauze dressings, and left the bathroom behind, unable to shake the way Carven had reacted. He should have been terrifying. He should have been covered in her damn blood. The goddamn game was the only thing that soothed Colt, staving off the nightmares and the terror. It was the way he coped after what he’d endured.
But the way Carven froze when faced with the machine’s destruction unnerved me. I’d never seen him hesitate like that before, never seen him so much as flinch when it came to reacting. The son was ruthless, a pitbull when it came to his brother, so the fact Vivienne was still alive, or even upright to still be a mouthy pain in the ass spoke volumes.
I headed out of my room and climbed the stairs, glancing at the sons’ bedroom door that was now closed. Low murmurs slipped out, but I couldn’t hear what Carven was saying.
The console was easily replaceable, but the fact it had taken us six weeks of endless night terrors and murderous bouts of rage after the last one crashed and stopped working was something we didn’t want to go through again…ever.
I opened her bedroom door, expecting her to lunge at me, hissing and spitting, the moment I stepped inside. But she didn’t…she was right where I’d left her, glaring at me from the side of her bed. A surge of excitement rose. Maybe she was trainable after all…maybe Vivienne would do exactly as I told her.
“Blouse off,” I commanded, glancing at the gaping front of the ruined garment before I headed for her bathroom and busied myself by spreading out the dressings.
Movement came from the bedroom, but I didn’t look, just scrubbed my hands, then squeezed Betadine into a cotton swab before heading back to her. “The placement was unavoidable, I’m afraid. So you’ll need to wear something soft that won’t rub the wound, until it heals, at least.”
She said nothing as I neared, fighting the urge to meet that rage. The walls closed in as I stared at her perfect breasts. “This will be easier if you lie down.”
She didn’t move for a second, then slowly sank to the side of the bed and lay backwards. I placed the sterile packet on the nightstand, gripped the swab as well as a clean one, and leaned over.
“Move as little as possible,” I murmured, my pulse racing as I swallowed the rest of my words. I don’t want to hurt you.
Her chest rose hard as I fixed on that perfect swell and gently swiped the two stitches under her breast. She flinched, making me freeze. “Are you in pain?”
I couldn’t stop from meeting her stare as she shook her head. “No.”
“Good.” I nodded, turned back to the task and cleaned her wound, then dabbed it dry carefully. The wound wasn’t opened, which was a damn miracle. I made sure my touch was careful as I placed the dressing in place, making sure it didn’t pull.
Then I moved to her walk-in closet, headed to the drawers I’d filled with lingerie, and pulled out a soft, lavender lace bralette before grabbing a cashmere top in the same color and strode back to her. “Get dressed.” I held out the clothes. “We’re leaving.”
She pushed up from the bed, staring at the clothes in my hand. “Leaving, to go where?”
“Somewhere I should’ve taken you days ago. I’ll be downstairs waiting.”
I left then, grabbing the plastic packets and used swabs before making my way downstairs. It wasn’t until I was in the kitchen stowing the rubbish away that I allowed myself to breathe. I gripped the counter, closed my eyes, and bowed my head. “What a goddamn mess.”
I allowed myself a second before I opened my eyes and straightened. Lo and behold, the wildcat slunk down the stairs. I tracked the sound of her steps, then turned around and froze, scowling. “Where is the cashmere I gave you?”
“On the bed, where I left it.”
Twitch…
That nerve at the corner of my eye ticced. I ground my teeth, met the challenge in her stare, and swallowed the bite of my words. “Fine.”
“Fine,” she snarled back.
I lifted my hand, motioned the way to the garage, and swallowed my anger once more. Living with this woman, I was starting to despise the taste. I followed her, snatched the keys from inside the door, and unlocked the car. She climbed in before I could get to her damn door and slammed it with a bang, leaving me to stand there like a goddamn schmuck before I watched her turn her head and meet my gaze.
She knew…
She fucking knew what she was damn well doing.
I clenched my fists as I fought the urge to drag her out of the damn thing and slam the door closed before opening it once more, just to prove a fucking point. But I didn’t, just turned from her stare and climbed in behind the wheel, ignoring her goddamn smirk as I stabbed the button and started the engine.
I tore out of the garage, accelerating hard the moment I hit the asphalt, throwing her back against the seat and wiping that smile from her face.
She said nothing as I made my way to the highway, heading out of the city to a place I didn’t think I’d ever step foot in again. The silence as we drove was deafening. More than once I was forced to bite down on my words and instead let her sit in the quiet.
She shifted on the seat, casting sideways glances as I worked the gears. More than once I caught her staring at my hands wrapped around the wheel before she looked away, forcing herself to stare out her window. “Are you cold?” I asked, making sure I drew her focus as I adjusted the temperature and pressed my hand against the vent near her leg.
I splayed my fingers, following the stream of cool air to her thigh. The touch was careful, still she swallowed hard, staring at the contact. “No.”
But there was a huskiness in her tone. This time it was my turn to smirk. Seemed like the little hellcat liked my hands…
Which was a good fucking thing.
Because I wanted them all over her.
“Where are we headed?”
I cut her a glance. “She speaks.”
“Funny.”
“Why, are you nervous to be with me?”
“No,” she snapped a little too quickly. “Justwantedknow.”
I gave her a quick look. “Don’t mumble your words, Vivienne.”
The corner of her lip curled into a sneer. “So how much longer are you going to treat me like a child?”
“For as long as you keep acting like one,” I replied as I pulled out around a car and accelerated.
“Fucshitsjugh.”
Annoyance flared as I turned to her. “What?”
That anger roared to life in her glare, her cheeks reddening. “Nothing.”
“That’s what I thought.”
She remained quiet the rest of the hour drive, pouting the entire way. But the moment that towering, ominous building peeked through the thick tree line, my attention was pulled away from her hurt feelings. My stomach rolled, driving that familiar, aching pain through my chest. My pulse fluttered, like a crow trapped in my belly, clawing and fighting to get free. Private Property, keep out. The faded sign still sat sideways, now riddled with bullet holes, some of them fresh.
Had the sons been here?
If not them, then someone had, someone just as tormented.
I slowed the car, took the tight corner on the winding road, and slowly pulled into the driveway past the remnants of the burned down guard hut which sat at the front, then stopped at the cracked open gate.
She stared across the expansive grounds, her focus on the dark, mottled brown mansion towering in the near distance.
“I’ll be right back.” I turned to her and waited until she met my stare and slowly nodded.
I climbed out, leaving the driver’s door open, and strode toward the gate. The hinges squealed, seizing on one side, making me stride forward to push it. But the damn thing wouldn’t budge. I glanced over my shoulder and saw her staring wide-eyed at the building before she shifted her terrified gaze to me.
I hated the distance between us…hated even more that we were here.
I gripped the rusted steel and my tendons corded as I drove my strength against the damn thing until it gave, opening all the way. Then I was shoving the other side open, dusting the filth off my hands against my pants. I’d carry a lot more stains by the time we were through.
A quick glance her way, and I made sure she wasn’t coming apart, then I shoved the car into gear and eased us through and along the driveway to the ugly, gothic brown brick mansion left behind to rot. I felt stretched thin when I climbed out, as though the air echoed here, piercing and shrill with chilling screams.
“What is this place?” she asked quietly, her gaze drawn to the darkened windows up high.
“Hell,” I answered as I closed the driver’s door and stepped around the front of the car. “This…is hell.”
She followed me, staying a few steps behind as I headed for the front door. Gravel crunched under my boots, the sound resurrecting memories I absolutely didn’t want to relive. But here I was.
I climbed the stairs and reached for the handle, bearing down before I shoved it inwards. Long wooden boards had been yanked from barring the entrance, leaving gruesome rusted nails behind. “Careful.” I glanced over my shoulder and reached for her hand. “You don’t want to cut yourself on that.”
I expected her to fight the connection.
I expected her to rage.
But she didn’t. Instead, she gripped my hand and followed me inside.
Our steps resounded as I led her forward. But in my head, there weren’t the rotting floorboards and peeling painted doors of this carcass. No, terror lived blinding bright in my head, so piercing it was painful. I led her past the front foyer, where faint sunlight fought through filthy windows to illuminate the space. Still, I didn’t speak, letting her take it all in.
Past the foyer was the library, the door open, letting the foul stench of decaying books spill out.
“Ugh.” She covered her nose, staring into the room.
I tugged her hand, pulling her forward past the large open room which was meant to be joyful, but I doubted this place knew what joy was. “The first thing I noticed about this place when I walked through those doors was the smell.” My voice sounded caustic. “It’s faded now, of course. But once you breathed it, once you let it inside, that kind of foulness stays with you. It stains you. It infects you.”
She turned to me. Those words were cruel…but necessary.
“Despair and torture have a certain…flavor to them, as you well know, Vivienne.”
She whimpered, and in that moment, I knew…
She was starting to remember.
“The ammonia stuck on my palate for days, and what I saw in the eyes of all those children told me the rest. It was so quiet for a house,” I said as I stared into that shell of a playroom. “So quiet for a house filled with children. Their footsteps were silent, their breaths shallow, like just existing made too much noise, and they feared the consequences.”
I turned to her, made sure she saw me, then I glanced at the large red open door. The one fixed with four heavy bolts on the outside, and tiny little scratches on the inside. Ones which were barely two feet tall.
A whimper tore free from her.
She released my hand and clenched her fists. Her olive skin turned a sickening shade of yellow. “What happened to them? To all the children…” She looked at me. “Tell me, London. Tell me what happened.”
I didn’t answer her…just held her stare…waiting for the pieces of the puzzle to fall into place.
Until she rocked back on her heels, her brow furrowing in agony as she answered her own question.
