Chapter 17
“This way,” Darrell says, grabbing my arm.
Rude.
I'm so fucking exhausted. Between the standoff with Shadow. The death match. And all the other bullshit mixed up together. I'm ready to sleep for a year. Oh, and shower, too. Not to mention the indigestion brewing in my stomach. Maybe that asshole poisoned me, after all.
Figures that's how I'd go out. It wasn't the sword in the death ring. It was the poison in the dining room by the mafia leader. Wait. Gang leader? What the hell is Shadow? He's not affiliated with the Viotto family. Or the Blue Spider Gang.
Shit. He's in a league of his own making.
“Seems I'll be here awhile. What exactly is this place?” Crickets. “Nothing? You're going to drag me through this…”
“Hotel,” he grunts, pulling me along. “But I already told you that.”
He did. It was right before he pulled me into the meeting with Shadow. I need more information. I wonder what magic I could pull to make him spill his secrets. My monster would claim seduction would be the key to unraveling men. But I'd rather not.
Maybe I can torture him with words and kindness to make him a little more talkative.
“Yeah, that. This hotel.”
My eyes wander again as he drags me through the dining hall, a large lobby filled with fancy chandeliers, marble floors, countertops, and finally to a working elevator. Everything about this hotel screams clean, fully functional, and lots and lots of money.
“Where exactly are you taking me?” I ask when the door pops open and cheesy elevator music hits my ears. “My room is…” I attempt to point down toward the stupid prison caves, but I’m yanked toward him again.
Someone needs to teach Darrell some manners. And that someone might be me.
“On the eighth floor now.” He doesn't look at me when he drags me into the elevator. And I say drag because I'm digging my heels in with all my might, which isn’t much now.
“No. Wait. I need to get back to Shepp.” My worry for the man I left behind has my stomach in knots. He has to be okay. I fought. I won. Shepp should be alive. But Shadow is unpredictable and has something major up his sleeves.
I again attempt to pull out of his grasp, but he clings tighter.
Strong bastard, unhand me! Ugh. I'm about to claw his eyes out and track Shepp down.
“If you hang on any tighter to me, I'll start to think you like me,” I quip, grunting when he pulls me closer to his body. So close I feel the heat of his body against mine.
Yeah, he needs to be stabbed for invading my personal space. Especially in this bloodied dress I’m still wearing that barely covers my goods. I need a shower, a drink, and Shepp to soothe this anxiety warring inside me.
“Not my type,” he says monotonously, not bothering to meet my eyes.
“Seriously. That's fine and all. But I need to get back to him. Is he okay? Is he…” but I'm cut off when the door opens on the eighth floor, and he drags me down the carpeted hallway, kicking and screaming. “For shit’s sake! You don't have to do this…” I yank and grunt with all my might, trying to peel his fingers off my arm. I even whack him with my fists, hoping to loosen his damn fingers.
Notta. Nothing. Zilch. It doesn’t fucking work.
He’s a brute, forcing me into another prison I don’t want to entertain. I inspect his unmoving face when he glares at me. What did he expect? For me to go quietly like a good girl. For too many years, I’ve fought too many monsters. I’m fucking done pandering to these douche canoes, damn it. I want to go home.
“Go in the room,” he demands with a tight expression.
Would it kill the guy to make different facial expressions besides brooding and rude?
Probably.
I sigh. Well, then. I apparently have no choice. If I had those knives from the fight, I'd stab this asshole in the throat and make a run for it. It’d give me a good head start until I found Shepp in the basement.
All I have to do is go downstairs and retrace our steps. Spying 101: Always remember your exits and where you came from. I could do it, but… No. I can't do that.
I deflate and mentally groan, remembering why I’m going along with this ridiculous venture.
Sunshine.
There’s no way I’d be able to get my hands on her. She’s locked up tight with Shadow and is unreachable for now. I’ll get to talk to her soon. Hopefully before the wedding. One week. That’s all I have to wait before we can exit and hide from Shadow’s cruel hand.
“Fine.” But I'm not happy about this, and I will make that loud and clear.
He nods, pulls out a key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and licks his lips with a huff.
“He's inside.” Darrell motions for me to go inside the room with the flick of his wrist.
My heart practically leaps from my chest with anxiety. What state will I find Shepp in? Is he alive? Okay? Fucking breathing? Hurt?
My stomach turns.
“Now, go.”
I swear he mutters, so you shut the fuck up underneath his breath, and I decide to ignore that minor detail, putting it on ice until I can enact my damn revenge on him.
Darrell is officially on my shit list, which seems to be growing a mile every day. Who is at the top, you ask? Fucking Gabriel Viotto. The bastard who sold me out to the other bastard. Coming in at number two on my list: Shadow, AKA Thomas Mondelli. And Darrell makes three.
“Thanks,” I say, watching Darrell with a skeptical eye.
He rolls his eyes. "Tonight, I will lock you in from the outside. Tomorrow, Shadow will give you free rein to walk around the hotel and island. You should know that you can't escape. It’s impossible. There are guards and cameras everywhere. I wouldn't advise the window, either. You'd meet a grisly end.” He gives me a look, basically saying without words, there’s no way to escape this hellhole. Period.
We’re stuck here until Shadow decides what to do with us. Or that’s what they want us to think. Don’t escape. I call bullshit. There has to be some way for us to leave undetected. Whether by boat or swimming our asses to the next shore. We’re leaving this island with Sunny. That's that.
“Don't escape. Got it.” I nod, stepping into the room and spotting Shepp on the bed, all sprawled out and sleeping peacefully through even breaths.
Good for him. The last thing that man needs is more trauma inflicted by his father. His tattered suit slightly hangs open at the chest, revealing his dirty, muscular flesh riddled with old battle scars.
He’s breathing.
He’s okay.
At least from here.
I don't even worry about the asshole locking me in the room. Fuck Shadow. Fuck Darrell. The only person who matters right now is the man on the bed. In a flash, my feet carry me to him. The urgency to hold and touch him rides me hard.
“Shepp,” I whisper with tears burning my eyes and cascading down my cheeks, carving a river of my pain into my flesh. “Shepp,” I weep again, completely losing myself in the feeling of his skin beneath my fingertips as I cup his cheeks. Leaning down, I put my forehead against his.
His warmth radiates off him. He's warm. Alive! Fucking breathing against me.
Shadow didn’t win. We did.
Inside the pit, I didn’t know what I’d come back to. Did his father truly poison him? Or was it all a ruse to force me into the situation? No matter what it was, it still felt real to me. It still does. The fear eats at me. Any second now, they could take Shepp away from me.
Tears drip from my eyes onto his flesh, trailing down his pale cheeks. His stricken face, the one he gave me as I left the cave, remains forever etched in my mind as a work of art. Never forgotten. The despair. His head shaking no. His hand reaching out to stop me from going. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing my tears to slow down.
He's okay.
He's fucking okay.
Alive!
Breathing.
And he almost wasn't. They nearly took him from me.
My fingers trail over the scar on his c, tracing it up and down. An old wound. A long-lasting memento. All from the demented man who took us captive.
I’ll help Shepp dismantle him piece by piece one day. That’s his trophy. His right. Shadow has taken so much from so many people. Shepp the most.
“Why is everything so messed up?” I mumble through my sobs. “Why are we here?”
Every moment I shut my eyes and fall into a fitful sleep, I pray I wake up and this is all a dream. That I'm still nestled between Arrow, Jericho, and Shepp in our gigantic bed made for us. I pray it's my sleep medication taking me for a ride and the man I murdered didn't rise from the dead to take my monster's empire while using me and his son.
But then I pinch myself, knowing I'm still lucid in the land of the living. This is no dream.
It's a continuous nightmare.
I push myself off Shepp, checking him over again—the rise and fall of his chest. The flutter of his eyes beneath his lids, scurrying around like he's in a dream. Hopefully, it's a good one.
I don't know at this point. About anything.
I stand from the bed, holding my aching stomach. The food from dinner rumbles through my digestive tract unhappily, making a sour taste burst on my tongue. Our new prison is more luxurious and lit up than our last. Gone are the dim, dank walls of the cave. Now, we're greeted by shitty paintings, one queen- sized bed, and, oh my God, it's an actual bathroom; how I've missed toilets and showers.
There has to be a way for us to escape this damn nightmare. If we're in a hotel, we have to be somewhere close, right? There can’t be a hotel out in the middle of the ocean? Right? I shake my head. No matter the answer, Shepp and I will explore tomorrow and find out. Darrell says the island is inescapable.
I don’t believe him.
Every prison has a secret way of getting out of it. So, we’ll remove ourselves from this place and return to Jericho and Arrow. No matter what.
My breath completely leaves my body when I open the drapes, revealing the outside world for the first time in days, and dimming sunlight streams through the window. I wince at the brightness until my eyes adjust, and I see it.
The ocean. Blue waves. Jagged rocks. And nothing for miles over the horizon from my vantage point. We're fucked. Stuck. My eyes trail down, down, down to the pit of jagged rocks near the turbulent sandy shore.
All hope evaporates.
There's no escaping through the window. We'd die. Miserably. Our bodies would break against the rocks, and we'd have nowhere to go. No boats. Or a sense of direction toward Briar Cove.
“He's some mysterious man living in the shadows or something. He has an island fifty minutes off the coast. Elias told me all about it. It's tropical. People are everywhere. It's wild.”
The realization snacks into me. Hard. I nearly fall off my feet when Jenni’s voice filters through my mind.
She told me all about this place. The night we went to Rave, we danced and drank together. Scratch that. It was more than drinking and dancing.
It was a whole damn experience.
Jenni showed off her vagina, puked in the bathroom, and then I experienced the hottest night of my life—enter Jericho, Shepp, and Arrow finger-fucking me on the dance floor.
My body aches for them again. Their comfort. Even though they're goddamn psychopaths who trapped me, married me, stole my damn IUD , and so much more.
But damn. I miss them—my psychos. They’re my giant red flags waving in the wind.
My stomach rolls again, clenching and churning until acid drifts up my esophagus. Oh, fuck. I blow out a breath when the spaghetti does a damn dance inside me, aching to be free. Grimacing, I rub my hand along my stomach, begging it to chill out. I just ate, damn it. After so many days without sustenance, I really need this food.
But it’s a losing battle.
My feet move faster than my brain as I run into the bathroom, throw open the toilet, and relieve myself of all the delicious spaghetti and rolls I consumed. And let me tell you, it’s not as delicious the second time around.
“Ugh,” I groan into the toilet, squeezing my eyes shut.
Maybe it was the spaghetti that didn’t agree with me. Or the stress. I’m leaning toward the stress of everything. Fight pit. Kidnapping. Starving in a cave. And the list goes on. Not to mention, I’m still in my murder dress, drenched in old blood.
Whatever it is, my body does not agree with it. And it’s too damn bad because I needed the nutrients to regain my strength.
I nearly combust with relief when strong hands grip my hair, gently pulling it back as the last heave works its way out of me. Pain engulfs my empty stomach when I suck in a breath, reaching blindly to flush the toilet. I rest my forehead on the cool rim of the seat, reveling in the momentary relief. As the pain slowly wanes and the nausea subsides, Shepp rubs my back with his free hand, silently telling me he’s worried about me.
“You're okay?” I rasp, forcing my eyes open and head off the toilet. “Are you hurt? Poisoned?” Every fear I've held back runs through me. I'm almost afraid to look back at him, but I force myself to.
He lifts my hand into his, despite how bloodied and dirty it is—never showing an ounce of disgust or recoiling from me. The warmth of his palm sends shivers down my spine.
He's real, right in front of me.
'Now that you're here, I am,’ he writes on the palm of my hand . 'Are you?’ Torrid emotions reflect in his big ocean eyes, flashing as they wait for my answer. I can almost hear his voice distantly in my head. The one he used when he painted my flesh. So free. So full of life.
But how do I answer that? Am I okay? Fuck no. Not by a long shot. Shadow has more blackmail on me than Gabriel ever did. Murder. Shepp. My fucking sister and her future. Her health. We’re puppets on a string for him to play with—chess pieces to move around as he pleases. Everything Shadow wants is at his fingertips. All he has to do is say jump, and I’ll have to say how high.
He'll spare no one to get what he wants.
“I need a shower,” I murmur, peeling my gaze away from his. He’s too perceptive, looking behind the wall in my soul. I feel him burning through me, staring at the thick red blood coating my flesh. What feels like spiders crawling across my skin has my muscles tightening and desperation to get clean, clawing at me. “I need…” I trail off, staring at the wall.
A black hole opens inside me. I’m hollow. Numb. Unsure of what I need. A shower. More food. Water. All of the above.
Shepp gently wipes away the vomit from my lips with a piece of toilet paper and tosses it into the trash. He waits me out, sitting beside me patiently as I regain myself.
‘Is it…’ he mouths, trailing off with a twisted expression filled with anguish.
He gestures at me. My dress. The blood on my skin. He runs his hands over every inch of me. Most likely looking for external wounds that aren’t there. Only internal ones fester with pain, rotting me from the inside out.
“It's not mine,” I say hurriedly, clutching his wrist. “It’s not mine…” I trail off again with a hitch in my voice.
My skin crawls again, tightening the more he looks at me. Every inch goes untouched, slithering across my flesh, inspecting me more and more until he’s satisfied I’m not the one bleeding out.
No. It’s not me. It’s the man I was forced to kill like so many times before. I’m a goddamn murderer. No matter the circumstances. No matter the—I had to do it to stay alive and keep my family alive—situation. Bile rises again, rumbling my upset stomach. My mind flip-flops, torturing me with my past and guilt.
“Fuck,” I heave, leaning over the toilet again and emptying the remaining chunks of food from my guts.
So much for dinner, I guess I was only renting it.
I shudder a breath when he gently wipes my mouth again with more concern than before. Then he flushes the toilet, holding me tightly in his arms.
'Are you hurt?’ he writes on my palm . ‘What happened to you?’
“No. Not hurt.”
Not physically, maybe. But mentally, I'm sinking into my darkness more by the day, letting it consume the light I've clung to for years, keeping me afloat. To soothe the chaos inside and calm my nerves, I need my music and my sleeping pills to push through the nightmares sneaking past my defenses. I crave a normal life. I’ve felt like a pawn for so long. I don’t know what it’s like to just be Journey West.
Who would she be?
Shepp gently peels me off the ground, holding my head to his massive chest. The sound of his beating heart has my muscles loosening, and my stomach settles as his fingers work through my hair. Then, he picks up the small bottle of mouthwash on the counter and hands me a cup to rinse my mouth. I take it gratefully, rinsing out the taste of vomit and spitting it into the sink.
Much better.
“Thank you,” I mutter with a sigh.
‘Let's get you in the shower.’ He nods toward the tub, pulling me to my shaky feet.
“Okay,” I whisper brokenly, trying to keep all the emotions festering inside at bay.
My tears want to spill over. Heartache wants to take me. But I don't let it. I have to be aware, especially with Shadow and his nefarious plans eating away at my mind. So, I suck them down and don’t let them to the surface. Yet.
'Want to talk about it?’ he mouths, checking me over again.
No. I don't. Ever again. But I know it’ll all come out. I can’t stay silent forever. Not with him. Or Jericho. Or Arrow. They’ll pull it out of me in creative ways.
I shake my head. “Later…” my voice trails off when he unzips my days-old dress, now soaked in blood, sweat, and tears. It peels from my body like a second skin, dropping to the floor in a rumpled mess, leaving me in nothing but my panties. Shepp gently peels those off, too, dropping them with my dress.
My eyes stray to the mess. How I wish we could burn the material. What started as a good night of dressing up and celebrating their initiation took a turn for the worst. It was something we didn't anticipate.
He hugs me from behind, squeezing me softly without saying a word, knocking me out of my thoughts. I’m desperate to stop thinking about it. All of it.
When he lets go, his warmth leaves with him. A hollow part of me opens without his touch, spreading dark tendrils throughout my veins and into my mind. It beckons me. Calling me to surrender to it and dive headfirst into the blackness that can take my feelings away.
But I refuse.
Shepp moves, opening the shower curtain. I force myself to watch his movements. Grounding myself in the moment. I’m alive. He’s alive. Sunshine is alive. We’ll make it out to safety by tomorrow—not staying here any longer than necessary.
We’ll find a way.
Family always finds each other.
Reaching in, Shepp turns the hot water knob on full blast, and the first bit of happiness breaks through the darkness in me like sunshine breaking through the bleak clouds on a shitty day.
Hot fucking water.