35. Colton
Chapter 35
Colton
T he night is one of organized chaos, each man a shadow moving in sync with the dark. Jasper’s team splits off, their figures blending into the darkness as they encircle the mansion. I lead my group towards the main entrance, and Blackwood Manor looms before us like the vicious beast that she is.
My heart hammers in my chest, but my mind is crystal clear, focused.
The first guard comes into view, his silhouette practically gleaming in my peripheral vision. I signal to my team, and we approach like ghosts, our footsteps muffled by the soft grass. I take the guard down with a swift, brutal efficiency—a gloved hand over his mouth, a sharp jerk of his head, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious.
That felt good, didn’t it? Kill more. Kill them all.
I ignore the small voice goading me into murdering more people, and we move on, disabling each guard as we go. The mansion’s defenses crumble under our assault, the guards caught by surprise. The thrill of the hunt surges through me, a dark exhilaration that I can’t deny. This is what I was born for, what I was trained for. This is the world my father created, and tonight, I’m tearing it down.
As we reach the main door, I pause, listening for any sign of movement inside. Silence greets me, the house seemingly holding its breath. I nod to my team, and we slip inside, our weapons at the ready.
The grand foyer is bright and as pretentious as ever, the chandelier casting shadows on the polished marble floor. I know this house like the back of my hand, every corridor, every hiding place. I also know the horrors that lurk within its walls, the echoes of pain and suffering that fill the air.
I signal to my team to split up, each taking a different route to secure the ground floor. I head straight for my father’s office, my heart pounding with each step. I can feel his presence, like a dark stain on the house, a malignant force that needs to be excised.
The office door is ajar, a sliver of light spilling onto the carpeted hallway. I pause, listening. I can hear him, the low hum of his voice, the rustle of papers. He’s expecting me, I realize. He’s been waiting.
I push the door open, my gun aimed at his chest. He looks up, a cruel smile playing on his lips. He’s seated at his desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand, as if this is just another business meeting.
“Colton,” he greets, his voice dripping with condescension. “I’ve been expecting you.”
I step into the room, my eyes never leaving his face. “Where is she?” I demand, my voice like ice.
Suddenly, two of his men appear in the doorway, and my father scowls at them. They’re both the same as all the others: tall, stocky, and ugly. But one of them is overweight, and he’s bright red in the face.
I know him well.
Martin.
I frown at the other guy, forgetting his name.
What the fuck has been going on with Martin?
“We got the message,” Martin pants, clutching his chest, his eyes narrowing at me and my gun. “Is everything okay, Boss?”
At least he won’t need killing—he looks like he’s about to keel over from a heart attack. It would be fucking deserved.
“Finish your work and fuck off,” he barks, glaring at them. “Now!”
Maybe I should kill them. Put them out of their misery.
They both bow their heads and scurry back to whatever it was they were doing, and I can’t help but hate the way he commands everyone around.
I fucking hate him.
So, kill him.
“Shut up!” I hiss under my breath, as my father looks at me with a knowing grin.
“Still hearing the voices, son? What are they telling you to do now?”
I clench my jaw and grip the gun tighter, resisting the urge to pull the trigger right then and there. “I said, where is she?”
Xavier leans back in his chair, swirling the ice cubes in his glass. “You think you can just storm in here and make demands? You’re still the same weak, pathetic boy you always were.”
I take a step closer, my finger tightening on the trigger. “I’m not leaving until I have her.”
He chuckles, swirling the whiskey in his glass once again. “Come now, Colton. You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”
I can feel the rage building inside me, a dark storm threatening to consume me. But I rein it in, keeping my voice steady. “I won’t ask again. Where is Luella?”
Xavier leans back, his lips curling into that familiar, cold smirk. “You’re wasting your time, Colton. You always were soft, too weak to do what needs to be done. That’s why she’s mine now.”
I grip the gun tighter, trying not to let his words get under my skin, but the red-hot anger simmers just beneath the surface.
“Weak,” he continues, swirling his whiskey as if this is all some casual game. “Like the time you let that girl die because you couldn’t pull the trigger. What was her name? Claire? Christine? No matter, she screamed just the same.”
His words hit like a punch to the gut, the memory flooding back—a memory I’ve spent years trying to bury.
“Shut up,” I snarl, my voice low, deadly. “I warned you. I told you Luella was mine, but you had to go after her, didn’t you?”
He raises an eyebrow, enjoying the torment. “Of course. I can’t have you falling in love with a skank , Colton. We marry for money, you ignorant child.”
The gun trembles in my hand, the barrel aimed squarely at his head, but I can’t pull the trigger. Not yet.
“Tell me where she is.”
He sighs. “She’s safe, Colton, does that make your heart leap with joy?”
I clench my jaw, my grip tightening on the gun. “You’re lying.”
He raises his eyebrows and takes a long sip of his whiskey before responding. “Am I?”
I don’t have fucking time for this.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. I can’t let him bait me, can’t let him see how much he’s getting to me. I need to stay focused, stay in control. “You have two choices,” I say, my voice steady and cold. “You can tell me where she is, and I might consider letting you live. Or you can keep playing games, and I’ll make sure you suffer.”
Xavier laughs. “You think you have what it takes to make me suffer, boy? You think you’re man enough?”
I ignore his taunts, keeping my eyes locked on his. “Last chance,” I warn.
He smirks. “You’re too late, Colton. She’s already mine. She’s been broken in.”
A red haze descends over my vision, and I can feel the darkness inside me roaring to life. The voices scream in my head, urging me to pull the trigger, to end him, to make him pay. But I push them back, forcing myself to stay in control. I can’t kill him yet, not until I know where Luella is.
“You’re lying,” I growl.
He shrugs, a nonchalant gesture that sends a fresh wave of rage coursing through me. “Believe what you want, Colton. But know this, she screamed. She begged. She fought. She’s feisty, isn’t she?”
I can’t take it anymore.
I lunge forward, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the desk. The glass of whiskey goes flying, shattering against the wall. Blood spurts from his nose or his lip, I don’t care which, and I press the barrel of the gun to his temple, my hand shaking with the effort of not pulling the trigger.
“Tell me where she is,” I snarl.
He looks up at me, a sick smile spreading across his face. “You’re too weak, Colton. You can’t protect her. You can’t save her.”
“Where is she?!” I roar, my finger tightening on the trigger. “Tell me or I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”
The voices are screaming in my head, their words crashing over each other like waves in a storm.
Pull the trigger, Colton. End it. He deserves it.
No! You need him alive. You’ll never find her if you kill him now.
I blink, trying to shake the chaos in my mind, but the rage threatens to consume me.
My father’s voice cuts through the noise like a knife.
“Go on, boy. Do it. Prove me right,” he sneers. “Show me just how much like me you’ve become.”
My breath hitches. The voices grow louder, a cacophony of madness in my skull. My finger twitches on the trigger, the darkness inside me surging forward, screaming for blood.
He’s right. You are like him. Always have been.
Shut up! I grit my teeth, barely holding on. I can’t lose control—not now.
He laughs, a harsh, grating sound. “You don’t have the balls, boy. You never did.”
The voices in my head reach a fever pitch, screaming at me to kill him, to end him, to make him pay. I can feel myself losing control, the darkness taking over. I press the gun harder against his temple, my finger trembling on the trigger.
For your mother, for yourself, for Luella! For every woman he’s killed.
“Do it!” my cunt of a father roars, his eyes filled with manic glee as I fight my inner demons not to pull the trigger.
I need Luella first.
Instead, I move the gun to his thigh and pull the trigger.
He screams in agony, crumpling to the floor, his blood pooling around him. The sound is like music to my ears, a symphony of his suffering. I stand over him, my breath coming in ragged gasps, the gun still clutched in my hand.
“Where is she?” I demand again, my voice trembling with barely contained fury.
He looks up at me, his face contorted in pain, but his eyes still defiant. “You think...you think you can break me, boy?” He gasps, clutching at his wounds. “You think you can make me talk?”
I crouch down slowly, the cold metal of the gun pressing into his temple. He winces, a flicker of fear crossing his eyes, but it’s gone in a second.
“I’m not like you,” I whisper, my voice steady, calm—too calm. I twist the barrel slightly, feeling the subtle shift in pressure as I push it harder into his skull. “But I can be. If you want to test me, old man, I’ll show you just how far I’ll go. That was your warning,” I state, my voice low and even. “Tell me where she is, or the next bullet won’t be so kind.”
He chuckles weakly, even as his body shakes with pain. “You think...you think you’re different from me, Colton? You think you’re better?" He spits out a mouthful of blood, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re just like me. You always were. You can’t escape it. You can’t escape me.”
I shake my head, refusing to let his words sway me. “I am nothing like you,” I hiss. “Now tell me where she is.”
He grins. “You’ll never find her,” he taunts. “I’ll never tell you.”
I snarl, whipping him around the head with my gun so hard he slams into the solid oak desk with a satisfying crunch. The voices in my head are screaming at me to pull the trigger, to end him, to silence him forever. But I know that if I do, I’ll never find Luella. I need him alive, at least for now.
“Fine,” I relent, standing up and stepping back. “You want to play games? Let’s play.”
I know what I need to do now. I need to find Luella, and I need to do it without his help.
But first, I need to make sure he can’t warn anyone or try to escape.
I kneel, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him across the floor. His blood leaves a thick trail behind him, smearing across the cold marble like a sacrifice to the victims he’s killed.
“You like chains, don’t you?” I sneer, pulling him toward the basement door. “You like watching people suffer in the dark, watching them beg for their lives.”
He groans in pain, but I don’t stop. I throw the door open, hauling him down the steps, his body hitting each one with a sickening thud. The basement is cold and damp, the air thick with the ghosts of all the women he’s tortured down here.
I chain him to the wall, the same chains he’s used on so many others. The irony isn’t lost on me, and from the look in his eyes, he knows it too.
“I’m leaving you here,” I explain, standing over him, the key to the chains dangling from my fingers. “Just like you left them. Maybe you’ll survive, maybe you won’t. Either way, you’ll feel every moment of it.”
His eyes widen, but I’ve already turned my back, walking away as his yells echo through the empty halls.