Twisted in Chaos (Destructive Devastation #2)

Chapter 31

Shadow pushes through the glass door with a loud laugh, filling the space with his sadistic joy. I swear the atmosphere instantly changes, turning heavy and suppressive.

"Who is ready for the fight of the fucking century?" Shadow says with a grin, rubbing his hands together. He moves to stand at the window, looking down at the pit.

"Why? Did you set it up again?" I ask, getting up from the bench and standing at the window to view the tragedy. When in reality, I’d rather be anywhere else than here. I imagine myself tucked into my bed at the mansion with all the guys around me. Longing hits me, and my mood instantly sours.

God, I want to go home. But when did the mansion become my home? I was only there for a short time. And it wasn’t of my volition. Bastards kidnapped me, and yet, here I am, simping for them again.

"Fair fight this time," Shadow says with annoyance, eyeing me through the corner of his eyes with disdain.

"And what would your patrons think if they knew you set that last one up?" Women walk through the stands again, holding popcorn, cotton candy, and alcoholic beverages. Mostly beer in cans. Not a bottle in sight.

"They wouldn't give a fuck. Besides, you lived, didn't you?"

Asshole.

Shaking my head, I focus on the women walking around the arena again. I tilt my head, focusing on a familiar-looking girl walking like a zombie through the various men, groping her ass and buying beer. She doesn't even bat them away. She just simply walks forward like it's her fucking job to endure their hands on her. Then, when her face turns, I see the blank expression on her features. Dead fucking eyes. No joy or life. No anything. The woman down there is a walking corpse doing the job they trained her for.

Every muscle in my body turns rigid when her fading blonde hair swishes at her back until she stops again, handing the next man his beer. He slaps her ass, but she doesn’t respond. Again. Something about her has the hairs on my neck standing on end. A buzzing roars through my veins when she stops, like she feels my eyes burning through her. Her head lifts toward the box we’re in. Her dead eyes look straight through me.

Despite having a lot on my mind that one morning after the guys chased me into the woods and fucked me into oblivion. I still remember the newspaper Jericho was reading and the article that he waved in front of my face. Fucking old man and his morning paper. The article was about the missing girl, Carolyn Crider, whose parents desperately sought info on her disappearance. They offered a reward for her return. Then, Arrow got a call from their security guard at Rave, saying they had found footage of a woman leading these girls out nearly half asleep.

It was her—that girl down there.

I inspect every woman walking through the crowds. Skimpy clothes. Dazed expressions. They’re zombies walking the stands, not caring if men feel them up or take advantage of them. Exactly how he wants them, drugged beyond belief, so they don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late.

I’d recognize that stare from miles away. I’ve seen my mom in those dazes, wandering around the house without a clue as to what she was doing, bumping into walls before toppling over and lying on the floor in defeat.

My goddamn blood boils in my veins. Rage almost consumes me at their expense. How dare he take these girls from the club and bring them to this isolated island to work them to death.

I watch them for another minute, absorbing the new information for later. I can’t help them escape if I don’t play Shadow’s weird games. So, I blow out a breath and center myself.

I look back at Shepp, who remains seated with a pensive expression. His eyes glaze over as he stares through the glass walls, looking at nothing. Mentally, I don’t think he’s here. I know I wouldn’t want to be. Not in the same room as my father, who cut out my fucking tongue. My heart aches for him. Splinters in fucking two at how difficult this must be, breathing the same air as the man who tormented him his entire life. It has to flash before his eyes.

Like his father’s almost-murder does mine. That night lives in infamy in my mind. Never truly leaving me. So, for Shepp. Who endured so much at his hands.

This has to be a goddamn nightmare.

I brace myself, peeling my eyes away from the man I love, and stare at the man I loathe. Shadow stands tall, watching the fight begin below. Two women in barely-there clothing fight with long swords, barely able to handle them. They grunt and scream, thrashing the sharpened blades at one another. But they have yet to leave a mark.

It’s only a matter of time.

"So it was you." I gaze forward, locking on the missing girls walking through the stands.

"A lot of things were me. Get specific.” His voice dips low with agitation, nearly sneering at me.

"The women down there.” I gesture to each of them as they work. “You've been taking them from Jericho's club..." I trail off, noting their innocent faces and committing them to memory.

He used a woman to lure them out. I remember that much. The Rave security camera caught her, but they’ve never been able to pinpoint her. Or find her.

The atmosphere in the glass viewing box plummets. Goosebumps prickle at my skin in warning when Shadow stiffens beside me. I swear the guards standing close take a step toward me, ready to fucking grab me and beat me for my words.

"Would you like to join them down there, Journey? I could make it happen. Instead of dressing you like a doll and ensuring you're kept safe."

He raises a brow, noting my unmoving face. Do not allow this man to know how fucking terrified you are right now. Do not let him know you could probably piss yourself from his darkened expression alone. But it’s more than that for me—it’s the imprisonment that has my muscles freezing and my breaths stalling in my lungs. Unable to break free.

It’s the fact he could hold me here for the rest of my life, drug me up, and force me to work for him, like my monster. Only I wouldn’t be murdering people. I’d be satisfying them with beer and ass grabs—probably more.

Shadow steps toward me, curling his fingers into fists. "I could put you in a cage every night, feed you drugs to make you compliant, and then dress you in barely-there clothes for men to ooooh and ahhh over. Let them touch you. Let them do whatever they pay for..." He smirks when my face falls—no doubt paling at his words. And as much as I don’t want them to, my fingers tremble. But I quickly hide them behind my back, take a breath, and ground myself with happier memories.

Or, at least, I try.

Memories of my experience in the cage come to the front of my mind. Replaying repeatedly until I'm shivering where I stand. I can play it off as being cold. Considering this dress is barely-there and thin.

I swallow the lump in my throat, dreaming of the violin that once settled my aching bones in my prison. The melodies sang to me to sleep, eradicating my day's anxiety. And it was all Jericho. If I could watch him play again. See him in action. Maybe I'd feel more settled.

Seeing Arrow and Jericho together is more like it. Just having them all by my side, knowing they were safe, instead of the unknown. That’s what kills me. I don’t know if they’re at their cabin. They briefly mentioned if things went sideways. If they have each other to fight, whatever the hell, we will have to fight. Then, that’s all that matters.

But it still makes me sick to my damn stomach.

"I'm just trying to make sense of it all," I say with a shrug, returning to the conversation. My heart rate slows, and I force myself to stop the memories from flashing by. "I don't care." I do, though. And it's probably something he can sense. "Seems like a hell of an operation." That's an understatement.

"Even living in the shadows, I have to make a living. Why not steal spoiled brats and see if their parents will pay the ransom? Those girls down there are paying off the money their parents owe me.” He’s smug about it. Almost fucking proud he’s ruined girl’s lives.

Owe him? Seriously? What delusions does he live in? Oh, yeah. His own. Because he's delusional as hell and belongs six-feet-deep. I swear to God, one day, Shadow will be nothing more than a horrid memory. For now, though, we have to survive somehow.

"Interesting," I hum, gazing at the fight below. “And have they not paid, then?” If they’re still here, that must mean their parents haven’t given in to the demands for money.

Shadow smirks, puffing out his chest. “Oh, they paid. They eventually leave.” Yeah, I bet in a body bag or floating in the ocean.

My fists curl. So, I focus on the other women battling it out with their swords. Blood pours from one's head while the other screams, throwing her heavy sword around until it hits her opponent again, slicing through her flesh and sending her to her knees. She cries out. The pain in her voice is evident as they both catch their breath.

The crowd goes fucking wild, calling for one of their deaths. They stand. Stomp. And fucking cheer so loudly my ears ring from the force of it.

"They stole from me," Shadow says smugly, gesturing to the two girls in the ring.

"Stole from you?" Mikhail asks, standing by Shadow and watching the show blankly.

Shadow grins. "I promised them freedom if they fought. Well, one of them. It's a fight to the death."

"And are you truly granting the other one freedom?" Mikhail asks, tilting his head as a woman falls to her knees, crying out when her arm flops beside her—severed from the elbow down.

I blink several times. Is this what I looked like in Shadow's eyes when I severed the man's dick to reclaim my life? Probably. It's gruesome and puke-inducing. It has my stomach turning and nightmares flaring to life. I have spent the past five years immersed in violence, blood, and death.

And it doesn't look like it will change any time soon. Considering I'm married to the damn heir of Briar Cove.

Shadow chuckles. "They'll never be free. She'll return to her prison, begging for another chance. But I don't give second chances." His eyes slide to me. I feel it burning into the back of my skull in warning.

We're distracted by the sound of a sword penetrating through the chest of the woman who was once on top. The blonde-haired girl rises from the ground with blood pouring from her missing arm as she twists the weapon in the other woman's chest, screaming her victory. She raises her intact arm, agony written all over her face as she faces the crowd with pleading eyes. She immediately looks up at Shadow, pleading with him to help her.

"Are you going to help her?" It's a miracle my voice doesn't come out shriller, but I remain neutral.

"Eh, she can wait." She really can't. She's already collapsed to her knees again, paler than usual. The pain is taking over and the blood loss, too. She doesn't have time to wait. But maybe death is better than having to go back to her prison.

The rest of us don't bother speaking when he takes out his phone and quickly types out a message. She passes out in the ring just in time for his guards to pull her and the dead body out.

"Will she live?" Mikhail asks with curiosity, watching the entire exchange with a spark in his eyes.

"Does it matter?" Shadow asks with a shrug. "It's just one more thing I don't have to worry about. They'll try to stop the bleeding. Then she'll go back to her cell."

"This is quite the entertainment you have set up. Who are all these men in the stands?" Mikhail gestures to the rowdy crowd, excitedly shouting as two more people enter the ring. Men this time. Without any weapons.

Shadow tucks his phone away and grins. "These are my people. Some stay with me. Some stay wherever they want and come back for their duties. I provide them with this, and they provide me with their loyalties." He holds his arms out wide like a king addressing his people.

"Interesting tactics," Mikhail says, rubbing his chin.

"You're the big man in charge now. You might take some notes." Shadow's smugness will get him nothing but payback from Mik, which I can see hanging in his eyes.

"I'll keep that in mind. Although, I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

"And you think grown men will listen to a kid?" Shadow chuckles. "You've got a lot to learn about this life." He slaps Mikhail on the shoulder several times, which seems to be the biggest mistake of his life.

Mikhail's face darkens when he takes Shadow's hand, removing it from his shoulder with disdain. He pulls Shadow's pointer finger back, almost to the point of breaking it.

"My suggestion to you would be that you never touch me like that again," Mikhail says in a low voice, inching closer to Shadow, who hasn't moved a muscle. "I'm respecting you because I'm a guest, and your hospitality has been excellent, but don't mistake my respect and kindness toward you for weakness." He raises his brow, pulling the finger back a little more. "Are we in agreement?"

Shadow stares at Mik without emotion. "Of course," he says in a cheery tone. “There's no need for this." He gestures to his hand, still held captive.

Mikhail gently releases his hand and finger with a nod. "As long as I’m understood, our agreement still stands."

"It does," Shadow says, taking his hand back and putting it in his pocket. "Besides, what kind of guy would I be to separate a husband and wife?" He grins in Mik's direction, earning a smirk.

"It would be the gravest mistake you ever make," Mikhail says, taking a step back. "Now, if you don't mind, my wife and I want to retire to our room." He holds a hand to Sunny, who stares wide-eyed between the two. "And we'll see you in the morning when we embark into the city by boat."

Shadow doesn't say a word to them as they take their leave. A few guards follow Mikhail out, accompanying them through the door and out to the hotel.

"Tomorrow, we leave for Briar Cove for Elias' wedding. I want you to watch Mikhail and Elias while we're there." Shadow's eyes find mine, and I nod. “I’ll give you a task. Don’t fuck it up.”

"That's what I'm here for, right?"

Shadow grinds his teeth, nodding. "That little shit would be dead, too, if it wasn't for the deal we made."

"And what kind of deal did you make with him?" I ask, desperate to know more about what my sister is getting into.

"I don't give second fucking chances. This is your only chance to stay on my good side. Or you'll be just like them down there, walking the stands. And him?" He smirks, turning on his heel to stare Shepp down. “I’ll take every fucking body part, one at a time. You fuck up, Journey West, I'll fuck him up. And I know how much you love him." He gives me the coldest look possible, sending shivers down my spine. He doesn't even look human right now. No, he's a damn demon spitting his threats. “Now, get the fuck out of my sight. Maybe a night in the fucking caves will convince you two to be good little soldiers." He waves a hand as two guards enter the room. "Put them in separate rooms."

My heart rate spikes when one grabs me by the upper arm, dragging me away from Shepp, who remains seated on the bench, staring up at his father with a bitter expression. The Shepp I know and love retreated the moment we were stuck in a small room with the man who made his life hell.

My only reprieve is knowing that tomorrow, the two of us will accompany Shadow to Briar Cove.

And then, no matter how much it fucking hurts me, we'll leave the wedding and find a hiding place. Something we haven't truly discussed yet.