Twisted in Chaos (Destructive Devastation #2)

Chapter 3

A soothing warmth presses on my chest, rousing me from unconsciousness. A fog settles over my brain, aching to fall back into the land of darkness and peace.

Something nags at me, though. It’s a faint sound poking at my brain and keeping me in the present instead of falling back to sleep like I want.

A biting chill seems to sear through the bones at my back, rattling them inside me and sending sharp shivers down my spine. My toes curl when the incessant chill takes me hostage. The only thing pulling my mind from the blistering cold is the faint sound tickling at my senses again, calling me far away from the peaceful darkness that had engulfed me for….

Well, I don’t know how long. Or why? Why was I asleep anyway? Or was I?

Confusion spikes through my veins, sending my heart rate into a frenzy, pounding against my chest. Something flickers in the back of my mind, reminding me of an old movie sputtering to life without sound and cracked photos. Images of Journey in a revealing dress, displaying her smooth back and the tattoo on her chest. She was gorgeous, smiling up at us despite the circumstances of the event and who was mingling in the crowd.

My fingers twitch with the urge to grab my canvas and paint. Aching to etch her essence onto my canvas forever, never forgetting the night we spent together. I could paint a thousand images of only her and hang them in a gallery dedicated to her name.

Journey West. All for her. Always.

Jericho’s smug grin comes next, flashing by as quickly as it came. Arrow’s voice comes through next, boasting about his rocket launcher in the coatroom. Hints of disappointment, fear, and utter betrayal all pass through me, hitting me hard.

But why? Through the massive fog of my brain, I couldn’t figure out why I was so panicked and fearful.

Did something happen?

I swallow thickly over the lump in my throat, noting the desert on the stump of my tongue and inside my mouth like cotton stuffing my cheeks. Dryness has my lips smacking together, aching to quench my thirst with cold water.

On instinct, my fingers reach out toward the nightstand next to our bed, searching for the water bottle I always keep at our side.

My brows furrow when my fingers find nothing but a rough floor made of what feels like ice at my fingertips. I groan, wiggling my body against my mattress. Why is my bed so damn lumpy against my aching bones? And where are my blankets?

But more importantly. How the fuck did I get to bed? We were at the party and then…

Nothing.

When I pull my hand back, resting it on the body draped over me. Soft skin greets my fingertips as I gently trace the curve of their back up to their shoulders and back again. Tiny goosebumps form under my touch, and I sigh with contentedness. I love it when Journey falls asleep beside me. Or on top of me. The warmth of her body always placates me, sending me into a heavenly rest filled with pleasant dreams. Something that doesn’t happen often. More often than not, I find myself in my art room, painting her beautiful face.

Tonight, though, we must have fallen asleep quickly after coming home—at least, I think. It’s the only explanation I can think of because my mind is blank and filled to the brim with fog.

“He took her,” she mumbles emotionlessly against my chest several times.

I attempt to shake off the fog in my brain again, begging it to lift so I can fully understand what the hell is happening. Or maybe be able to open my eyes, which is a feat in itself. It’s almost as if Arrow shot me with one of his needles and dosed me into unconsciousness. I’ve seen it plenty of times with his victims. If he did, I’m going to slam my aching fists into his face until his nose hangs sideways. He’ll only laugh through the pain, but he’ll never see it coming. I’m not one to exert violence to get what I want. One look at me usually has our prisoners shitting their pants. I’m tall, scarred, and exude danger.

But I’m far from it.

“He took her,” she mutters again, sucking in a desperate breath as her aching voice quivers when she says it over and over again.

It must be a nightmare, like the few I’ve witnessed before. Even before I knew about her monster and who he had taken from her, I understood what she was saying. Her sister is missing because Gabriel Viotto is holding her hostage and using it to control Journey, so she’ll spy on us, among other things. One day, I’ll be Journey’s knight in shining armor and get her back.

I gently run my fingers through her curls, softly massaging her scalp to wake her from her fitful dreams. It’s a scene I’ve witnessed too many times with her. It’ll escalate from here if I’m not able to wake her up from the nightmare holding her hostage. In the time before, I was able to coax her back to sleep with the use of my voice.

A sound I’ve only been able to use around her.

My lips pop open to speak softly to soothe her worries. Like before. A sweat breaks out across my flesh. A thick barrier rests around my vocal cords, freezing and constricting them into nonuse. I push and push. Trying to force my voice through the wall constructed around it. But it doesn’t seem to work.

Nothing seems to fucking work. It’s like the day my tongue was removed. I couldn’t speak. Think. Nothing. It was only pain. For days and days, I endured it, unable to speak. He took it from me.

My voice. My innocence. My everything.

With her, though. I could regain that piece of me. The woman who holds my heart with hers as they beat in sync together—we’re one.

She helped bring my voice back to me. Whether it was the panic or the fear of seeing her wide-eyed and terrified. She did that for me. In turn, I talked her through her nightmares and then spoke to her normally.

Journey West reset my life. Now, I need to reset hers.

I test the waters again, flopping my lips and sucking in air, begging for my voice to return to me so I can soothe the girl who has stolen my heart.

But I come up short.

It’s like someone’s fingers are wrapping tighter and tighter around my throat and blocking my voice from emerging. It’s annoying.

“He took her.” This time, her voice echoes through the space with a haunting tinge.

Her distress has the hairs on the nape of my neck standing on end. But that’s not the only thing that pierces through the fog. When she says the phrase again on repeat, I hone in on the echoes bouncing back to us. Why the hell is her voice echoing in our room? I know it’s big, but it almost sounds like we’re in a cave.

I gently rub her scalp, moving my hand down her bare back, attempting to pull the memories from the back of my mind. They’re slightly out of reach, so I push harder, attempting to remember the night’s events.

Every sense in my body wakes when she mumbles the words again. The hairs on my arms stand on end when it all hits me. Raging floodgates open inside my skull, releasing a multitude of emotions that threaten to drown me in the tumultuous waters of the storm.

Stark images of the events that led to me lying here with Journey flash before my eyes, vivid and unrelenting, each a piece of the puzzle, reconstructing the night my mind let slip through its fingers.

The initiation ball.

The four of us dressed to the nines in our expensive outfits, standing around in the crowded room filled with the Viotto Crime Family, awaiting our ceremony of manhood. Then, the moment we stepped on stage–all hell broke loose.

Standing tall in front of the crowd with our shirts wide open, exposing the wounds inflicted on us during our initiation. It was the night we fell to our knees and pledged ourselves to the family.

Only we pledged for ourselves and the future we were going to bring to the town of Briar Cove and the Viotto Crime Family.

As we stood proudly in front of the entire Viotto family, they cheered us on. Men and women politely clapped as the man at the microphone called us by name, smiling politely in our direction. His grin set my nerves on edge, and suspicion arose inside me.

Our conversation from earlier nags at me. Who is this guy, and why don’t I recognize him? Sure, there are a lot of men and women in the family I don’t know by name, but this man doesn’t seem to fit in.

I click my rings beside Jericho’s ear, discreetly signing to him when he looks my way. ‘Who is this guy?’

Jericho shrugs, turning slightly so the crowd can’t see his hands. ‘No idea. I thought he was a cousin.’

‘That ain’t no cousin,’ Arrow signs with a frown. ‘Think I can peel his skin off and get some answers?’ His face practically lights up at the prospect.

Jericho shakes his head. ‘Not yet,’ he signs as we turn our attention back to the ceremony.

‘Every party has a pooper , and the pooper is you, Jer,’ Arrow signs behind his back with a pout.

For once , I grin at his antics. ‘Later,’ I sign with a snort.

Arrow vibrates with excitement, rubbing his hands together. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll reward himself with some debauchery tonight when we go home.

Then, we’ll celebrate with Journey.

My eyes catch on several servers in red vests making their way toward the stage with their trays held high. Several members of the family reach for the full drinks, but they walk right by them without batting an eye.

My stomach drops—an eerie feeling gnawing at my mind in warning.

‘Something isn’t right,’ I sign, swallowing hard when a man in a server’s uniform walks on stage and pushes the announcer out of the way.

“What on earth?” the man on the ground growls, attempting to get to his feet. “That was not a part of it!” he hisses, lifting his nose in the air.

The server in front of the microphone grins. “Who said I agreed to it? Hmm?’’

Jer and I exchange looks when he silently reaches into his jacket, touching his hidden weapon. For whatever reason, he doesn’t pull it out and start shooting our enemies. He leaves it there, hovering above it like he’s taking note of what’s going down.

It’s a good thing we came prepared and ready for a turn of events like this.

The man in front of the microphone nods to another server on stage. I stiffen when, out of nowhere, one of the female servers whacks our announcer over the head with a heavy tray, and he collapses into unconsciousness.

“Secure them,” the short, balding man in front of the microphone says to the other servers on stage with us.

“Attention!” he shouts into the microphone with a manic grin. “My name is Ernie, and I’d like to thank the Viotto Family for coming together in one place. This makes it much easier to do this,” the man says in a low voice, ripping his shirt open and revealing a large bomb strapped to his chest. He turns slightly, nodding to the three on stage with us as they pull their weapons.

Jericho’s eyes discreetly drift toward the stairwell. Determination settles on his features, and I know exactly who he’s looking at because I ache to look, too.

Journey.

But Arrow and I refuse to look. The last thing we need to do is draw attention to our girl waiting backstage when gun-toting imbeciles glare at us with murder in their eyes. It’ll give her time to get to safety.

I swallow hard when guns are pressed into our temples by the three people who had worked the room handing out drinks and snacks. I eye their tight expressions. Not recognizing them from anywhere. Ernie blabbers into the microphone, pledging his allegiance to Shadow and his organization.

How the hell did these fuckers get past security? How was this even allowed to happen?

The crowd watches without emotions hiding behind their eyes, staying neutral as Ernie talks a big game. He never once reaches for the bomb to activate it.

There’s something fishy going on here.

My eyes catch on Jericho’s hand, slightly moving at his side as he spells out each letter of every word he’s trying to say.

Discreetly at my side, I give him the thumbs up, acknowledging his plan, and Arrow does the same, letting a manic grin spread across his lips. He’s no doubt ready to take these fuckers down with his weapon in the coatroom.

‘Three, two….’ Jericho doesn’t have to get to one when we’re moving in sync and knocking the guns out of their hands and onto the ground.

Each server’s eyes widen in horror as they look up at us and then attempt to scramble for their weapons, like clueless soldiers taken by surprise.

Why are they not more prepared if they’re working for Shadow? Something isn’t adding up.

“Looking for these?” Arrow coos, kicking the gun into his hands as Jericho and I grab them.

“Wait,” the server in front of me whispers frantically. “Please don’t…” she trails off, shaking her head.

“Who exactly sent you?” Jericho demands, stepping until the gun pushes into the man’s forehead before him.

“Don’t,” the man hisses at the other two. “Tell them nothing. They’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“You know, if you were Shadow’s heathens, then you’d proudly say so,” Arrow says with a grin. “Tell me. Tell me!” he says, practically bouncing on his toes. Arrow’s eyes darken, and his true form peeks from beneath the surface—mayhem.

“So, you’re not?” Jericho asks, raising a brow.

The three servers don’t say another word, staring into our eyes with no emotions.

“Fine, then.” Jericho shrugs, enacting the plan. “Go find Journey! Now! We’ve been had.” Jericho’s words from the night before swim in my mind, and the worry coating his tough exterior. “Now, Shepp!” he hisses urgently, shooing me away.

Indecision gnaws at my insides. Leaving them here to defend themselves seems dangerous. We’ve always prided ourselves on staying together and fighting the battles as three. Not two.

But Journey needs me. It’s our plan. I don’t know what’s happening or why. But she’s no longer by the steps watching us. She’s vanished backstage.

Jericho’s beady eyes turn to the gunman that he’s knocked to the ground with one punch. I don’t hear the words he utters to the three prisoners at his feet before gunshots ring through the air. And life is lost. Hopefully.

I groan inwardly, attempting to move my body off the cold , hard surface beneath me. But it’s no use. Sludge moves through my veins and mind, making my thoughts foggy and moving a difficult task. Even opening my eyes to witness Journey’s nightmare seems impossible.

“Go find Journey!” Jericho’s words pierce through the fog again.

Journey.

Fuck!

I suck in a breath when my eyes finally fly open. Nothing but darkness greets me. My gaze darts around , aching to latch onto anything familiar. My bed or canvas. Anything at all. But it’s as if I’ve been locked in the basement of my nightmares in my father’s home without light to guide me away from it. I squeeze my eyes shut when my father’s demented voice echoes through my skull. It’s always there in my lowest moments to pull me under and drown me.

My heart pounds uncontrollably, thumping against my aching lungs. It’s then I notice the pounding in the back of my head, thumping in tune with the beat of my erratic heart, sending pain down my neck and arms. Every muscle tenses when the pressure on my chest shifts, and a small voice pulls me from the panic creeping through me.

Journey. By the sound of her haunted voice, she’s in the midst of her nightmare.

“Shepp, he took her,” she whispers with such defeat, moving up my body until her forehead rests against mine. It’s not too out of the ordinary for her to move, speak, and have her eyes open while dreaming. But this is new. “He took my sister. I’m so sorry. I thought...” Her breath shutters in the darkness, blowing across my chin when she leans in more. “I thought... he was dead. I thought...” she trails off, sucking in more breaths, like she’s trying to pull herself back from the cliff of despair.

But she’s not making any sense.

I open my mouth several times, aching to reassure her that everything will be okay. But my words fail me once again. It’s like the last few months of progress have vanished. Nothing seems to slip through, and I’m left unable to speak again.

“I thought he was dead,” she mutters repeatedly, burying her face in my chest and whimpering uncontrollably. “He was dead. He was dead,” she chants again, digging her nails into my shirt and gripping hard. “He was fucking dead!” Her angered shouts echo through the dark, trembling in my grip.

She’s so lost in the fog again and torn from whatever happened that she can’t make it back. Only this time, she’s not in a nightmare.

My fingers gingerly run through her curls, petting her until she softens.

“You’re awake,” she says, jolting beneath my fingertips. “Thank fuck you’re finally awake.” Her voice screams exhaustion and pain.

Shivers run through me when her touch ghosts over my jawline, tracing the smooth skin with precision like she’s attempting to memorize my features in the dim darkness. My hand finds her, steadying her there as we sit in the silence of the dark. Only our breaths echo through the room wherever that is.

“Shepp, do you feel okay?” she murmurs with concern.

I’m sure her beautiful face twists with anxiety and fear, but I can’t see through the shadows plaguing the room. Only the outline of her face comes into view.

I grip her hand against my face, nodding slightly. I attempt to open my mouth again, begging my anxiety to fall away and let me speak to her. Then, I could tell her about the pain in the back of my head and the fog in my brain.

What the fuck happened to me?

“Do you remember what happened to you?” she murmurs, as if reading my mind.

I shake my head, letting her feel the movement.

“You were on stage,” she chokes out. “At the-the ceremony. I was backstage, and... Gabriel came out of nowhere. This is all my fault. I know it is. If I hadn’t spoken to him. If I had just gone on stage with you. We’d all be fine. We’d...” she rambles more, but my brain doesn’t tune in to what she’s saying now. It’s falling into the deep abyss of my memories formed only a little while ago.

‘I’ll find her!" I urgently sign, taking off down the stairs and exiting the stage.

A weird calm sits in the backstage area. There’s no sign of her anywhere. Small whispers leading toward the emergency exit grab my ears and drag me toward it.

“No! I will kill you!” Her shouts have the hairs on my arms standing on end when I finally reach her.

Or would have.

The emergency exit door slams shut, muffling the sounds of her screams. The moment they stop. My body stiffens , and panic engulfs me, but I’m stopped by the presence to my right, watching with a smirk.

“Good things are coming my way, Sheppard,” Gabriel Viotto confidently says, adjusting his suit jacket. “And there’s nothing that can be done. Soon enough, I’ll have the world in the palm of my hand. Beyond Briar Cove. The entire country will eat out of my hand.”

A fiery rage burns through my body, eager to tear into him and rip out his heart.

“What did you do?” I shout in a raspy voice, causing him to falter a step, and his eyes widen.

It’s not very often that Gabriel Viotto stumbles. But today was the day for that.

“What I had to do,” he says with a shrug. “That’s the thing about business, Shepp. Sometimes, it hurts, especially if it betters you. Like what your father did to you. It furthered his business to keep you quiet.” He grins, watching my stance morph into nothing but rage.

My fists ball at my sides when he steps up to me. Or tries. Standing at six foot six has its advantages, especially right now when he only reaches my chest. But his arrogance will also knock him down a peg.

Or my fist.

Without a second thought, my knuckles slam into the side of his head, and he cries out, huffing and puffing about my actions. He shouts and screams when I take him to the ground, mercilessly beating his face without thinking about the repercussions. Fuck the consequences. Fuck Gabriel Viotto. He doesn’t deserve to hold power over anyone.

Especially Journey.

Abruptly, I stand with a heaving chest, taking in the carnage I’ve laid out on the ground. He’s barely alive, hopefully, on his way to meet the devil himself and burn for eternity. My stomach turns at the blood on my knuckles and coating my white shirt. Normally, I’d stay out of it, but this was unavoidable. Violence is all Gabriel knows, and now violence has taken him out, too. I check his breaths. They’re barely there. His skin turns ashy gray, morphing him into a dying man. I can only hope my efforts sent him to his grave.

He’s as good as dead in my eyes.

I run through the emergency exit door, trailing quickly behind three figures with Journey drooped over their shoulders. I’m ten seconds behind when I grunt as pain envelops the back of my skull, causing me to stumble over my feet and tumble down the stairs until I’m soaring. I heave a breath, begging for oxygen as the metal stairs dig into every inch of my body. When I finally land, tears distort my vision as a face pops up above me and sighs.

“It looks like it’s a two-for-one kind of deal. He won’t be too disappointed to see you...” the voice trails off, and my brows furrow. “He’s always eager to get his hands on the Viotto’s inner circle.”

“You,” I garble out, immediately recognizing him as one of our own—someone we trusted with every fiber of our being.

His eyes widen slightly, and his jaw pops open. “Time to meet Shadow,” he says, shoving his hand into his pocket and pulling out a familiar-looking syringe with a capped needle. “You were one of the good ones,” he murmurs, uncapping the top.

Pain takes me over as I try to move and roll away from the strike he’s trying to land. But it’s useless. A sting pokes through my neck, and I swallow hard, feeling the effects immediately taking over.

“Shadow?” I grunt, attempting to get my limbs to work with me, but it’s futile. Everything locks up as if concrete now makes up the blood in my veins and the bones in my body. “Journey?” I slur, attempting to move again, but the figure above me hovers, and he shakes his head.

“You’ll see her again, I’m sure of it. He’ll have plans for the both of you.” His grim expression is the last thing I see before I surrender to the darkness, with his last promise echoing in my mind: I’d see her again, even if we were in Shadow’s clutches. We’d be together again.

Everything comes back to me simultaneously, albeit slightly fuzzy around the edges.

My hand tightens on Journey’s, and renewed strength takes me over. I grunt, forcing my aching body to sit up.

“Shepp...” she murmurs with vulnerability in her voice. “I’m so sorry you’re in this mess.”

I clutch her face, slowly bringing her lips to mine. The moment our flesh meets and my lips overtake hers, a multitude of emotions rush through me. Relief that she’s in my arms. Heat, because I’m finally touching her again. Only she can bring this amazing sense of stability and strength to my soul. Until I pull back, desperate to utter soothing words.

My mouth flops open, and I grunt in frustration when nothing comes out. My voice hides itself deep in my throat, refusing to cooperate with me. If I had my voice, I’d tell her there’s nowhere I’d rather be than with her. At least I’m here to join her in whatever hell we’re about to enter. But I can’t. Gently, I take her hand in mine, leaving her palm up.

‘We’ll be okay,’ I write slowly on her palm.

“What?” Her tone is gentle but wracked with grief as she speaks to me. I can practically feel the heat of her eyes spearing through my skull, even when I can’t see them through the cave’s darkness.

I lick my lips and trace her palm again, spelling word after word. For every word I write, she says them back to me until she’s completed a sentence. “There’s nowhere you’d rather be,” she murmurs, bringing her other hand to my head when I nod in agreement. “Oh, Shepp.” Her worried-filled sigh fills the room as she continues to stroke my face.

She shudders against me, nodding until her forehead lies against mine. The silence engulfs us as she trembles, and the shadows play tricks on her mind.

“Gabriel sold me to Shadow,” she whispers, clutching my shirt. “He... He’s going to take the money, Shepp. He forced me to tell him where it was hidden. I couldn’t...” her head shakes. “I can’t seem to do anything right,” she mumbles so low that I almost don’t hear it. “I’m so fucking stupid. God, I couldn’t even protect my sister. I couldn’t protect anyone. Not even myself.”

She was abused, left alone, manipulated, and forced to do things she didn’t want to do.

“He tortured me. He left me in the darkness...” she trails off, lurching forward to bury her face in my neck.

I cling to her tightly, holding her against me so she feels the warmth radiating off me. I’ll be whatever she wants me to be— her knight, her pillow, whatever comfort I can bring her. I’ll do it.

“All because I killed him, Shepp. I... I stabbed him over and over. He touched my sister. He touched me. And now he has her again because Gabriel sold us to him for... God! I don’t even know why.” She sucks in several breaths, clinging tightly to my body. “He took my sister,” she whispers over and over. “My sister. Fuck. My sister.” Her entire being trembles in my grip.

I shake my head violently, attempting to bring her gaze to mine. Through the darkness, I can barely see the tears glistening in her eyes and the panic twisting her faint expression.

I take her hand in mine again, leaving her in my lap. ‘We’ll find her. We’ll get her back.’

“He has her, Shepp,” she murmurs in a quivering voice, giving me a glimpse of the emotions she’s wrapped up in. “Shadow has Sunny, and we’re stuck in his prison.”

My muscles stiffen. ‘Shadow has Sunny?’ I spell out on her palm.

The only thing I hear is the sound of her deep breaths. “Yes,” she croaks with devastation.

I swallow hard. An eerie feeling envelops me as the reality of our situation pushes on my chest. ‘Do you know where we are?’ I spell out on her palm.

“No,” she whispers as my fingers trail through her hair, and she whimpers when I roam over a small wound with what feels like warm blood oozing from it.

‘What happened?’ I spell out.

Journey flinches as the lights in the room grow brighter. We watch, eyes glued to the door, as the locks disengage and a grinning man walks through.

Everything inside me completely stops, turning cold when his gaze looks me up and down with satisfaction. He’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Unlike my childhood, he spent his days in black scrubs for work or a suit for the family.

“I’ve decided what I want to do with you two,” he says with an unsettling grin. My hackles immediately rise when he squats, looking us over. “You haven’t changed a bit, son.” He tilts his head, examining me.

I shake my head in disbelief. Every inch of me shakes in his presence as much as I don’t want it to. The man from my nightmares. The man who took my tongue without remorse. He’s supposed to be dead.

Why is he here before me? Why isn’t he in the ground? Whose body did we burn to get the ashes and place them at the cemetery? So many questions simmer in my throat, but I can’t voice them when he tsks, standing tall again.

“You’re going to prove your loyalties to me,” he says like we ever would. “I know what you did for Gabriel, and he was dumb enough to just hand the both of you over like it was nothing. There will be trials, though. I have to make sure you aren’t going to bullshit me.”

“What?” Journey croaks, looking up at him finally. Her head shakes. Fingers curl. Something unfurls inside her, erasing her turmoil. Her chest puffs out with determination, taking over her features. “Why would we ever be loyal to you?” she snarls, climbing from my lap and regaining her strength.

Shadow. Or my sperm donor. Or whatever he wants to be called, wrinkles his nose at her. “You show me your loyalties, or you die. He dies. Sunny dies. And oh, boy. That would be the worst death of them all. You know why, Journey West?” He steps up to her in that intimidating way, getting in her face until they’re only a millimeter apart.

She swallows hard but remains rooted in the spot, refusing to give him authority over her. Even though my brain screams at me to hide in the corner, I climb to my feet, too. Coming close to her, I circle my hands around her waist, pulling her back into me.

“I see,” he hums, grinning wider. “I’ll leave you two to think about it. You either show yourselves as useful to me and my cause against Gabriel Viotto, or I’ll murder you all. Starting with him, then your sister, and then you.” He raises a brow when we don’t respond to his words like he’s trying to get a rise out of us. “So, tell me all your secrets, Journey,” he whispers, coming in closer again.

My fingers tighten on her waist, holding her steady. “What do you want to know?” she growls, standing tall against him.

“Everything,” he growls. “I want to know where he sleeps at night, who is in his bed, and, most importantly, I want to know every facet of his operations.”

“Weren’t you privy to that?” she huffs.

“My, my. I’m curious. Did you mention to Shepp how you got yourself taken by Gabriel?”

She stiffens.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he chuckles. “How about I tell you a story about a girl?”

“I murdered your father when he tried to rape not only me but my sister, too,” she says without looking back at me. “I stabbed him over twenty times until he was a bloody mess on the ground. How pathetic,” she spits out, looking him up and down. “He deserved every fucking stab.”

Anger washes over Shadow. He thought he had her where he wanted her, but she’s played this game for too long against Gabriel. He gets in her face again, sneering at her. I’ve been born and bred into violence. Not that it was ever my favorite activity. But I’d stab this man for her. Hurt him until he cries if he lays a hand on her.

“I can’t wait to watch them tear you apart. The loyalty games begin soon. I hope you enjoy knives.” He doesn’t spare a glance in my direction when he races out the door, slamming it behind him. I listen carefully as the locks engage, shutting us in here. The lights dim again as soon as he’s gone, leaving us in the faint darkness from before.

Journey turns herself into my arms. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, full of regret. “But he...”

My lips slam into hers with a heat I never expected. I nibble on her bottom lip, holding her close as I continue to assault her with gratitude.

‘Never apologize for taking out the trash.’ I sign on her palm.

“But I didn’t complete the job,” she murmurs, resting her forehead on my chest with a huff.

‘Idea,’ I spell out, gaining her attention again.

“Yeah?”

‘We play the games.’

“You… want to?” she questions.

‘Fuck him. Fuck Gabriel,’ I write out, hoping she understands. ‘We play the games. Tell him everything he wants to know about Gabriel. We win. We survive. Then we take them both down together. Once and for all. ‘

If Gabriel is still alive. I didn’t take the time to examine him when I took him down. My primary concern was getting to Journey and extracting her from the enemy’s arms. Good that did because we’re here now. Together, at least.

Journey’s silence fills my ears with static as she ponders my words for what feels like several hours straight.

“Okay,” she whispers.

‘Together.’

“Together,” she murmurs.

Her entire body stiffens against mine when all the lights in the room click off, plunging us into complete darkness.

“Let the games begin,” an ominous voice echoes through our prison, laughing through a speaker placed somewhere.

Journey clings to me, practically climbing into my lap. I hold her there, consoling her through the darkness.

“I hope you enjoy the darkness.” is all they say before the speaker clicks off and something else clicks on.

“Cameras,” she says, slightly shivering against me. “The red blinking light.”

My eyes roam through the room, finding the blinking lights from the upper right corner repeatedly.

They’re watching us.

“How long will they leave us like this?” she murmurs in a low voice.

I can only feel the heat of her flesh against mine. The darkness completely swallows us whole.

‘I don’t know, but you’ve got me.’ I write in her palm. ‘No matter what happens.’

She nods in response several times, digging her nails into my flesh. I soothe her with my hands, roaming them through her hair and down her back again. Her muscles strain. Whimpers echo through the room until she’s silent and pliant against me.

“Shepp?”

I swallow hard at the sound of her hollow voice. My need to stomp out our enemies rises. This is what they do to her. They take an amazing woman and grind her into nothing but a husk.

I will kill them for stomping her out.

‘Yeah?’

“What happened to Jericho and Arrow?”

My heart skips a beat.

‘Hopefully they got away. ’ Hopefully, they’re holed up in our cabin in the mountains, plotting to bring us home.