Haunted by Secrets (Shadowed Souls #3)

Chapter Seventeen

Warmth presses against the line of my back. I shuffle along the mattress slightly, tucking my pillow beneath itself to raise my head slightly. A hardback by Truman Capote rests awkwardly in my hands, a stream of morning light causing me to squint at the small text while my companion snoozes gently.

Apparently, after whatever happened in the room next door, Wyatt felt the need to stay close to someone last night. He wriggles again, pressing his back against mine and leaving me with around two inches of space at the edge of the four-poster. I give up on trying to read through the early hours, replacing the book on the bedside table and slipping free of the covers, giving him the kingsize to himself.

Stretching, I crack my neck and back, taking in my surroundings. It seems this particular guest room is being used as the storage space for all of Axel’s late father’s possessions. I didn’t meet Mr. Barrett while he was alive, but the framed portrait against the wall holds too many resemblances to Axel to be anyone else. Boxes of classic literature and ornaments fill the space, some of the finest suits I’ve ever seen line the opposite wall, collecting dust. A whole life packed up and stashed away as if he never existed.

Another shuffle followed by a groan sounds to my left, Wyatt seeming unsettled. I stare down at him for a moment. His eyes are clenched, a pained expression pinching at his brows. He shifts again, his breathing uneven as his frown deepens.

For a moment, I consider waking him, but something stops me. In all the years I’ve known him, Wyatt has always slept soundly. Always been certain of himself. But whatever happened with Avery this past week has changed him. There’s a vulnerability I don’t understand—a dent in his armor. But like with all of Wyatt’s struggles, this feels personal. The kind of battle fought behind closed doors.

Grabbing a fresh set of clothes from my bag, I sneak out into the corridor and close the door with a soft click. The bathroom is along the hall, and I stroll slowly, letting my eyes roam over the interior bathed in daylight after arriving in pitch black last night. As far as mansions go, I would say this is the grandest I’ve seen. A complete contrast to Axel’s humble soul.

The ceiling is a masterpiece of intersecting wooden beams, the geometric pattern mirrored in the marbled flooring. Suspended at the heart of the lobby ahead is a glimmering chandelier, its cascade of crystals scattering spots of light across the winding staircase below. Pointed archways rise at either end of the hallway, their curves framing the passageways and echoing the character of thick, wooden doors set every few feet apart along the hall.

As my fingers trace the smooth mahogany bannister, the sharp tang of paint fumes drifts through the labyrinth of corridors, mingling with the faint scent of aged wood and varnish. The butler who showed us to our rooms last night briefly spoke of the recent renovations in an irritable tone that matched the way he spoke about Sharon and her new husband.

After a quick wash in an equally lavish double bathroom, I change into jeans and a black T-shirt and go in search of breakfast. Not that I’m hungry in the slightest, but I promised myself to make the effort and restore my strength. The time might come where Avery’s life depends on it. I need to be ready.

Turning towards the wide staircase, a door at the end of the hallway catches my eye. Not because it's white, unlike all the rest, which are a range of the deepest and richest browns, but because there’s a small rectangular sign on this one. Creeping forward, curiosity filling my veins, the sign comes into focus. A starry background sits behind a suited astronaut with ‘Axel’s Room’ scrawled in the centre. It appears to be handmade.

I instantly feel sick, turning away from the innocence of a boy who endured so much torture behind this door. Who is back in there now, unknowing of what we’ve brought him into. Should we have fought harder? Will our being here be enough?

Shuffling sounds within just as the door swings open, an exhausted Garrett appears in the doorway with a towel clutched in his hand. His hair is long enough to cover his eyes when he allows it to flop forward, a yawn pulling his mouth wide open.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he pulls the door closed behind him and almost crashes into me. The bastard didn’t even look up. Jumping out of his way, he continues up the hallway without any acknowledgement. My gaze flicks to the door handle, wondering if Axel might be awake yet.

“Don’t even think about it,” Garrett shouts back, entering the bathroom and slamming the door shut. Asshole. Maybe I should be happy that some things never change and that Garrett is the same possessive dick as always. At least he’s taking care of Axel the way he deserves now, not pulling him along on an invisible leash and dropping him like yesterday’s trash whenever he felt like it. Axel always came right back despite my hushed warnings. I can only hope he’s finally got what he was hoping for.

Jogging downstairs and emerging in the kitchen, I’m stunned to find a whole team of house staff lifting their heads to greet me kindly. I blink through their chorused ‘good morning’, flicking my gaze between their sex-shop style maid’s and butler’s outfits. They’re nothing like the elderly gentleman who greeted us last night. They’re much more youthful .

A guy around my age with a top knot grins at me while stirring a huge pan of pasta. A black jacket hangs open around tanned abs, a tie hanging from his neck with no shirt. The belt of his slacks is dangerously low, revealing a dark tuft of hair trailing south.

He beckons me in, gesturing to the kitchen island. Beside him, the group chats easily as they make subs in a production line. Another pair is preparing tubs of salads on the far end of the same island. I slowly lower onto a stool, watching their easy going dynamics as if it’s surreal .

“You guys know it's barely eight in the morning, right?” I finally ask. “Isn’t breakfast on the menu?” Top Knot widens his grin, whereas a young woman to his right fumbles with her apron.

“Of course, sir. Whatever you need,” she rushes off to the fridge, whipping out the eggs and bacon.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean-” I start, but Top Knot chuckles.

“It’s cool, man. Whatever you want, we can do it. Anything for a friend of Axel’s.” The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Axel has never mentioned having friends back home.

“You know Axel?” My brow raises. A round of sniggers rotates around the kitchen.

“Not yet, but we’ve heard so much about him,” Top Knot’s eyes glisten into the distance. “He’s the original. Like Steve Jobs, and we’re his apples.” Feeling eyes on me, I glance around to the others, who quickly drop their awe-filled gazes and giggle like schoolgirls, even the men. Licking my lips, the heat of that gaze intensifies, and I quickly catch myself.

Top Knot turns off the hob and puts aside his pasta pot. “To answer your question, it's Sunday. We prep our lunches and meals for when we’re back at college during the week and return on Fridays to stay through the weekends. Although Sharon requested extras to be made while you and your friends are staying.” I narrow my eyes at his first-name basis with Axel’s mom, feeling like I’m missing something obvious.

“So you work here? All of you?” I drum my fingers on the surface, my other hand propping my chin up. Top Knot shrugs, fetching a stack of freshly-washed tupperware.

“Sort of. We’re the Lots.” When I don’t respond, he tilts his head and speaks as if I’m a bit slow. “For the auctions. We keep a cut of what we make, and the tips are great.” Another round of laughter bursts through the air at his innuendo. I suppress a shudder, and he continues, pretending not to notice. “Free lodgings when we like, and the parties are something else. You should join us on Friday. It’s thrilling.”

“You’re whores,” I blurt out. No one is offended or even surprised. They’re too busy working in sync and smirking with hidden messages being passed through their side glances. Leaning across the counter, Top Knot reaches out to brush my blond waves behind my ear .

“We’re whatever you want us to be, handsome.” I quickly pull back. What the fuck have I just walked in to?

The words echo back now in context. Axel is the original. By the time a plate of steaming eggs, bacon, and pancakes is pushed beneath my nose, I’m fighting a gag. On second thoughts, I couldn’t eat now, not even for Avery’s sake. Sharon is still pulling this shit, running a brothel of sorts. All based on what she did to Axel.

Dax slips into the stool beside me, sliding his arm around my shoulder. I flinch, but relish his quick hug before it’s gone. I hadn’t realised how unnatural it’s been without Axel initiating the hugs and gentle touches between us. I’m glad Dax isn’t allowing the void to keep growing in his absence. Several pairs of eyes shoot our way, but not with judgement. Hints of jealousy and encouragement flare to life in their faces, Top Knot frozen in place with a look of longing. I swallow, turning his Dax’s ear to keep our conversation private.

“Tell me Avery isn’t on her own,” I command roughly. Dax’s blue eyes catch mine with a strange look, but he recovers quickly.

“Wyatt’s with her.” I nod, not knowing if that’s better or worse. I keep my head twisted away from the rest of those listening in.

“Do not leave her alone for a second in this house.” Dax’s mouth tightens into a firm line, and he agrees instantly, not needing an explanation. He can sense the tension radiating from me. I slide the plate of food towards Dax, letting him eat one-handed in my place.

The staff refocus on their tasks, busying themselves with the various meals before packing them into individual portioned boxes. Each container has a white sticker with today’s date placed on top and is stacked neatly into the double refrigerator. Dax’s thigh remains pressed against mine out of sight, a silent reassurance that we’re alright, as long as we stick together.

After taking the plate and washing up, most of those in the kitchen head out. A few hang back, Top Knot included, pottering around with his smirk cemented in place. I don’t attempt to make conversation with Dax. Who knows what is being passed back to Sharon, and by the Rolex on Top Knot’s wrist, I can only imagine he’s one of her favorites.

A throat is cleared in the doorway, the butler from last night staring directly at me. His thinning dark hair is combed over, a grey speckled moustache lining his upper lip. He’s the only member of staff I’ve seen who is above college age, his pressed white shirt, black slacks, and shiny shoes showing years of professionalism.

“Mrs Barrett has requested your presence.” I square my shoulders, wondering why Axel’s mom thinks I would come running because she clicked her slender fingers.

“Are you sure it’s me she wants?” I pass a glance at Dax, my blood running cold. The butler makes a humorless noise in his throat.

“Positive, Sir ,” he drawls sarcastically before turning and leading the way.

“Do you-” I stop myself from asking Dax to tag along. I’m a grown ass man; I don’t need protection from a predator. He seems to read my face, standing to slap me on the shoulder.

“I’m going to take some food up to Garrett. Catch you after?”

I nod with a sigh. Yeah, sure, I’ll be the bait and will report back later. I’m forced to run to catch up to the butler before he disappears down the hallway. Beyond floor-to-ceiling windows lining this side of the mansion, an idyllic green setting sprawls across the landscape, rows of automatic sprinklers spraying across the manicured lawn. At the far end, a metal cage is just visible, which houses the tennis courts.

Passing through a barely used living area, hammocks swing gently in the breeze on the patio beyond. The butler leads me through the spider web of hallways, passing various rooms before turning sharply and opening a door at the far end.

The space inside is dim, with electric lanterns descending alongside a hidden staircase. Sulphur tickles my nose, and a brush of humidity sinks into my jeans. They immediately feel too tight, too constricted, and I’m sure that’s the point.

The butler ushers me towards the steps before closing the door, leaving me in almost complete darkness. I really should have insisted Dax came along. Squinting and trying not to fall, I feel each step with my bare foot before stepping down until I find myself in an underground chamber.

The room has been decorated to look like a cave, the bumpy walls and curved ceiling are painted stone grey. Sounds of the rainforest echo from hidden speakers, insects chirping, and frogs croaking between hollow droplets of rain. Two leather massage tables sit to the left, below shelves of small bottles and rolled towels. Artificial vines have been draped around blue lights, which reflect on the water filling the centre of the room. At the back of the round jacuzzi, Axel’s mom is eyeing me hungrily.

“I thought you could use some relaxation. I can see from a mile off how tense you are.” Once again, I’m struck by the lack of consideration of the early hour. Does no one sleep in this house?

Sharon licks her cherry-red lips and unashamedly tracks each of my biceps with her pale brown eyes. Fighting the impulse to cross my arms defensively, knowing it would only make me appear more muscular than I really am, I stand loosely with unhidden hatred filling my features. If I wasn’t worried she would kick us all out and Axel would be trapped in a house alone with her again, I wouldn’t have been able to restrain my tongue from spilling every curse word and name I have rolling around my mind.

“I’m good.” I shrug and turn to leave, splashing behind, telling me she’s rushing to stop me. I manage to jerk back before her wet, slender hand lands on my shoulder, growling for her to step back. In no version of this world would I have ever found her attractive, regardless of the things she’s done. A black bikini top barely covers her huge, clearly fake, breasts, and her stomach is unrealistically slender. Her thigh is covered with black ink in the shape of a large cat, its body on the prowl and fangs exposed in a hiss. I’m almost certain it’s supposed to be a cougar. Shudder .

“You seem so stressed. Why don’t you let me help relieve you?” She tiptoes to whisper into my ear but is careful not to touch me. Yet.

“What about your husband?” I huff, putting further distance between us. She follows, her chest brushing mine. Bile rises in my throat.

“Oh, don’t mind him. He’s banging his secretary.”

“You are his secretary,” I deadpan. She giggles like life is some big fucking joke. She can screw who she wants, abuse who she wants, and will never face any repercussions.

“Handsome and intuitive, what a catch. Seriously, have a massage on me.” She winks, sashaying her hips across the room to stroke the massage table. Her talons lightly scratch the leather, the cocky smile on her face showing she actually thinks I’ll be persuaded. That she can bat her lashes and have any man in the palm of her hand.

Reaching over the table, pushing her ass high into the air, she pushes a button on the wall I didn’t notice. The whirring of a door opening reaches my ears, although I can’t see it from this angle, until a man appears a moment later. I recognise him instantly as Top Knot.

For the love of fuck, what have I just walked into? And how many secret tunnels does this mansion have? I, for one, will not be sleeping soundly anymore.

He doesn’t spare me a glance, his eyes trained on Sharon like a lovesick puppy. His fingers deftly slide off his jacket and reach for his belt. Underneath his slacks, he’s wearing a tiny pair of purple briefs. My eyes nearly explode in my head, seeing that he’s already half-hard and reaching for the oils. Sharon holds out her hand for me, leaning her body against the massage table in a way I’m sure she considers to be sexy. I’m too busy trying not to vomit at the audacity of it all.

“You really are a vile creature, aren’t you?” Her practiced smile falters. Top Knot swings his eyes to me now, a look of disappointment swimming in his features. Was this all some ploy, and I’m supposed to be the prized pig? No, thank you.

Jogging up the stairs, I shake off the vile desperation clinging to my skin. I can’t stop shuddering, tripping over myself multiple times until I finally make it back to the staircase. Locating Avery’s room, I burst in, ignoring the scene before me. Avery is curled up on the bed, staring at Wyatt pacing across the room, deep in thought.

“Hux, you okay?” Avery asks, just shifting her legs aside before I drop heavily on the mattress. She looks as relieved as I am to see each other. Her fingers instantly sink into my hair, massaging my head. Wyatt hovers on the edge of my vision, standing over the bed with a frown. A tremor rolls through my back, my stomach twisted in knots as I lean my head further into Avery’s lap.

“I told Dax that he’s not allowed to leave you alone in this house.” I swallow hard. “I’ve changed my mind. I think I’m the one who needs protecting.” And while Avery laughs into her shoulder, I retell the last hour of my life in vivid detail.