“It’s a hard job, but somebody has to do it!” I can hardly stop now – I have to keep up the bravado. I push my body into Darren to open a path to the door. Kiara sprints through the opening down the hallway before Darren or Lucinda can do anything.
Run my friend. Run. The best you can.
Lucinda turns to face me with a scolding hate-filled face. Her pathetic attempt to slap me fails horribly when I catch her wrist and turn it until she winches in pain.
“Don’t bark if you can’t bite, shrew.” Where is all this coming from? I’m actually scared shitless that they’ll do something to me – to my baby.
The plan now is for Kiara to escape and get help. And hopefully, the distraction will give Jackson an opportunity to do something drastic and throw a curve ball in the works.
Yeah, not the best plan, but it’s all we have.
“Fuck, if this is not turning me on!” Darren growls out a deep laugh, his fingers tightening more painfully around my arm as he drags me out of the room not waiting for his angry sister to follow.
“Go get her back.” If the look on her face is any indication, Lucinda is not happy about being ordered around by her brother, but she drags her feet down the hallway.
“Where are we going?” I ask while being roughly pushed down a huge staircase, the chandelier hanging from the roof flashing a vision from my past into my mind. Flipping hell, what is it with me and this damn haunted house? I stop and turn to Darren, hoping to soften him up a little.
“I saw your dad years ago, standing here.” He was the demon with the shotgun.
Darren looks at me but I can’t see his eyes in the dark.
“I know. You were nine and one of the booby traps shot you through the arm. I was hiding up there,” he says, pointing to the top of the staircase. “After everything happened, we’ve fixed up a small part of the house to stay in whenever we were in town. Memories and all that.” A sadness flicks over his face. “Dad put in some traps for safety measures. To keep out the riffraff.”
“So everything you told me about you was a lie?” I need to keep him talking … distracted … sane.
“No, I told you the truth – like the boarding school in Andover I went to with Chloe, the death of my mother, the fact that I have a sister … I just hid my real identity.”
“That you’re not Ren Steward … but Darren Brown?”
“Even that was mostly the truth. Maybe if any of you snobs managed to remember the kids you used to bully … you could have put two and two together. But you are all too self-absorbed …”
He pulls me towards a room on the right side of the foyer and we pass the hole Kiara fell in – it seems so much smaller and smellier than I remember – or maybe I’m just bigger.
“I was on my way to come and help you, but even back then that asshole ruined everything. I’ve hated him for so long,” he murmurs while dragging me along. So his petty feud with Damion started years ago.
“You know … this is the room where everything happened … it’s as if it’s cursed. Right here -” he points to one side, “- is where they hanged my mom to make it look like suicide.” His voice is hard, laced with hate. Then he signals to the middle of the room, “Here my father was tortured, and over there -” I look at the heap of rubble that was once part of a now broken stairway, “- is where your lover’s little sister died … accidentally,” he sneers the last word sarcastically.
“You killed her?”
“Technically … no … we were in Houston at the time … she activated a booby trap …” I gasp and my heart aches, imagining Damion’s pain.
Darren ties me up. Stuffed against a pillar in the room, the ropes so tight they’re already cutting into my skin, the pain from my broken arm causing me to bite on my teeth – literally.
“And this exact column is where they tied me and my sister up, branded us, and forced us to watch.” I can hear the pain in his voice. And I pity them.
“I feel for you, I really do, but grow the fuck up … we all have issues. Life sucks for everybody.” He sneers and takes out a knife. I swallow and hold my breath.
His hand is slightly shaking as he cuts the buttons from my blouse one by one, unveiling my breasts, now only covered by my violet lacy bra. I regret not opting for a full-cover granny bra and church briefs this morning.
He pulls in a lustful breath and licks his lips, his face and eyes wiped from any emotion.
Watching in horror as his lips move closer, panic soars through me. I turn my head to the side while my chest heaves up and down. But instead of kissing me like expected, he yanks the chain from my neck, Damion’s chain, and puts it into his pocket.
“Fucking bastard,” he swears bitterly, hate radiates through every nerve in his body. And right that instant I know – for sure – that he won’t let Damion live. Fear pulverizes me and I fight for air.
Absentmindedly, I spit into his face, I’m that angry with this fucker. I understand that he went through a terrible ordeal, that he’s filled with hate and wants revenge, but it still doesn’t give him the right to do this to us. None of what happened to them was our fault, it was my grandfather’s and old Garcia’s … maybe my dad’s … Alberto’s.
He slowly wipes his face with an ugly grin and my body shuts down.
As if in slow motion he pulls a gun from his side and sticks it into my mouth. He knows I’m terrified of guns and clowns … I’ve told him once … when we were dating. My heartbeat starts to race as I pant to fill my lungs with some air.
I stare at him, thinking that his face is going to be the last thing I see. My head spins and my body shakes.
My muscles pull tight as I stand rigid against the pillar. I swear time stands still – I see him pulling the trigger; I see the hammer slamming; I close my eyes and wait to die.
Click.
Nothing happens. The gun gets pulled from my mouth.
Darren laughs out loud; a sinister laugh; an ugly laugh. I’m done … broken … scared shitless. That’s one moment in my life I never want to repeat again. My body is shaking so badly that I’m getting concrete burns where my skin scratches against the pillar.
Then his hand with the gun connects with my temple. The gun alone triggers a sudden wave of fear – I’m losing control and start to cry.
I feel something wet running down my cheek and I don’t know if it’s blood or tears or both.
Ren … Darren … asshole … monster … takes my chin in his hand, his fingers bruise my face. He loads the gun and then holds it against my temple. My knees buckle.
“Never do that again.” His voice is low and dark. “You should love and respect your husband.”
“I will never love you … and respect must be earned.” He throws my face to the one side and I look away, praying like never before.
“Say cheese!” I peep through my lashes as a phone clicks. My phone.
He sends a photo to somebody and slips my phone into his pocket, the look on his face must be the exact one a deer sees before it gets killed by a predator. He grabs my hair and yanks it, forcing me to face him.
“I wanted to be your first.” With his other hand, he then cuts my jeans, ripping them from my body and it falls to the floor in a mangled puddle at my feet, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed, standing in only my underwear. It’s chilly and my body is covered in goosebumps, shivering from both cold and fear.
“But you never wanted me.” He runs his hand over my breast and between my legs and I bite on my tongue, forcing myself to keep calm. I’ve never been this terrified in my life.