Twisted in Chaos (Destructive Devastation #2)

Chapter 32

Every instinct inside of me screams. My muscles tense, tightening with every step she takes away from me.

My Little Tempest.

A guard, who has a death wish, grabs tightly to her upper arm, dragging her from the small viewing box above the finished fight. Fresh blood soaks into the dirt of the pit, splattered everywhere from the carnage. The men in the audience cheer loudly, shaking the box with their noise.

My ears ring from the rage brewing inside me. My fingers curl into fists, ready to aim at Shadow’s head and take back my girl.

My stomach twists into knots at the silent fear in Journey’s eyes when she gazes at me with a blank expression.

“Maybe a night in the caves will teach you. Alone.”

I want to reach out and grab her arms, hold her close, and kill anyone who dares to put their hands on her. I'll channel my inner Arrow, chop off the guard's fingers for bruising her skin, and offer them to her as gifts.

Even if the thought of blood makes my stomach turn more. What's worse, though?

There’s nothing I can do.

I can't save her from her fate of going into the caves. Or jump and kill everyone in this room.

I can't. They’ll stop me before I can even lift a finger.

I was born and bled into the Viotto Crime family, where I was taught that all my instincts must be fought against. Be different. Learn to smile politely when addressed, but never flinch if a gun is pointed at your head. Don’t show your fears or weaknesses to the enemy. This is one of those moments where I’m helpless in the face of danger.

My limbs lock up, paralyzing every inch of me. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t move. Not with Shadow’s eyes blazing a hole straight through me. He’s testing me. Seeing if I’ll go against his orders and chase after the girl who holds my heart so he can punish me, too.

I won’t.

I can’t.

He’ll kill me before I move. Probably her, too.

We're not a necessity to him. We’re expendable. Sunshine was. She was his pawn to move around on the board. We're simply the spares he has to put up with.

I lock my muscles in place, holding eye contact with her. Hoping my gaze says all the things my lips can’t. You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure we’re safe. I’ll do everything in my power to get back to you.

Journey’s gaze pleads with me not to put up a fight. Almost saying not to worry about her. Despite the fear swirling in her moss-green eyes, she remains composed. Emotionless. Well, as composed as she can. My upbringing taught me to read people. Watch their movements and tics. I’ve used it many times to help my brothers on missions. And right now? My girl is screaming on the inside. A slight tremor works through her jaw, tightening when all the emotions bleeding through her eyes cease to exist.

Her darkness. It comes over her, stealing away her emotions. An after-effect of her monster’s teachings. A necessity for her to live. Something she and I, as well as the rest of us, have in common.

My expression stays impassive when I catch Journey’s gaze one last time before the shadows swallow her whole, and she’s out of my sight—slipped out the door with the guard practically dragging her by the arm toward the exit.

A little piece of me chips away. A feeling of separation hits me in the chest as I shatter internally.

“Get up, boy. You’re with me,” Shadow demands, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me to my feet.

I don’t respond. I nod when I face him, staring deep into his unmerciful eyes. True evil lives there, deep within him. Always exposing his true nature. He’s never tried to hide it from me. Or my mother. Letting alcohol fuel his rage every night during dinner.

Shadow smirks. “We’ve got business to attend to. Be a compliant little shit, and I’ll let you stay in your comfy bed. Defy me? You’ll get reacquainted with the caves just like your little girlfriend. Alone, this time.” He levels me with a look. “Fuck with me, and I kill her.” I know by the tone of his voice that he means it. He’ll murder Journey in a heartbeat to fuck with me.

I nod in agreement, with my heart pounding in my ears, following my father through the raging crowd of the pit. Despite the fights having stopped and blood being shed, they continue to drink, shout, and fight. It’s pure fucking chaos. As Shadow passes through, they move out of his way with shouts of joy and grins.

They fucking love it here.

“Keep up, boy,” Shadow grunts, hurrying toward the elevators in the hotel's main lobby.

Once inside, he hits the button and exposes the secret pad. Unlike when Darrell brought me here, Shadow steps in front of the keypad, blocking my view of the code. Too bad I'll never forget what his guard inadvertently showed me. On purpose? Possibly. I’m still trying to figure Darrell out. There seems to be another side of him I haven’t unraveled yet. The elevator sinks lower, taking us to the dingy lower level, and we step out into the dim hallway.

Shadow stops, running a hand over his jawline, deep in thought. “You’re going to assist me in taking out the trash.” He raises a brow, looking me over. “Someone attempted to pull one over on me.” A grin spreads across his lips. “And now it’s time for retribution.”

I nod again in response, knowing I could write several questions on my pad of paper. But he wouldn’t bother with an answer. Shadow has always kept me on a need-to-know basis, even as a young child. I either follow his commands without questions or get punched in the face for having the courage to speak out against him.

And he stole my voice the last time I spoke up against him.

“Are you with me, boy? Ready to make them bleed for what they’ve taken from me?” He eyes me up and down when I nod again, attempting to relax my muscles.

I am a product of what he wanted—a silent boy who can’t speak up for himself or defend himself, a dummy doing his bidding without questioning his motives.

“Then let’s get this show on the road.” He doesn’t peer back when we march down the long hall past his open office. He doesn’t seem to lock. Something I’ll remember for later when I get the chance to snoop.

Something about it calls to me, begging me to rifle through it and find out what he’s hiding there. I’ll get my opportunity soon. I know he’s leaving tomorrow for the damn wedding and no doubt leaving me behind. I feel it in my damn bones. He made that clear when he separated us. Hopefully, Journey will take the chance to escape while in Briar Cove.

I shake my head, stopping my thoughts from wandering, and follow Shadow down the long, dim corridor. The further we get, the more the wallpaper peels away, and mold grows in certain areas. It’s such a contrast to the beautiful oasis he’s built on the upper floors. It makes me wonder why such care wasn’t put into this part. I can only guess he never wants people to see the lower lever. So, he keeps it shabby and hidden like his office, which I’m sure is full of telling goodies I need to get my hands on.

At the end of the long hallway, it opens into a large ballroom with vaulted ceilings and columns. Weathered from the environment, a lone velvet chair sits near the wall, looking at the immense space.

“This used to be a fancy conference center for the elite. They held their live streams here,” Shadow says, finally stopping in what seems like an old ballroom, fit with chandeliers and tall ceilings. It’s a wonder it's down here and not on the main level.

Live streams? What the fuck kind of elite are these people?

“I can see it on your face. Live streams. You’re wondering what they did in the darkness of this basement.” He grins sadistically. “You see, the elite owners of this island used to take people for entertainment and live-stream their misery to paying customers. Polls would go up, and they’d auction off their torture.” I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “It’s just a shame the feds caught up to them. We could have all lived in harmony.” He hums the last part, stroking his chin like he’s thinking of starting it up again. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. If it brought this great elite society the big bucks, my father would be invested.

“All right, onto the good part.” He grabs my upper arm again, forcefully leading me into a small room. “There he is.” He gestures to one lone male strapped to the ceiling by ropes with his eyes covered. His half-nude body shivers, sagging against the restraints. His blond, shaggy hair sticks to his forehead as sweat encases his flesh.

“Hello again, Agent.” My back stiffens when Shadow marches forward, ripping the blindfold off the man's malnourished face. His eyes squeeze shut, slowly blinking open to glare at my father with disdain. Same, buddy. Same. “I've brought back up this time.” He gestures to me with a sadistic grin. “Care to have a chat?”

The agent blinks a few times, looking around the dimly lit room and taking it in. His brows furrow with confusion as they volley back and forth, committing the room to memory. Has he been subjected to the caves this entire time? Judging by the sickly pale skin and sunken eyes, I’d hazard a guess that the caves have been his home since the boat blew up and he was captured. His gaze burns through me as he takes me in. Questions sparkle in his dim eyes. Almost like recognition. But he doesn’t speak to either of us, simply shutting down. His lips roll in, and he sighs heavily, relaxing every inch of his body.

"Would you like to share with Shepp your backstory since you won’t share it with me?" Shadow smirks, folding his arms over his chest.

The agent doesn't budge, even when Shadow throws his fist into his gut. The only sound that leaves him is the air in his lungs, expelling out of his mouth as a gasp.

"Oh, I see. We're still the strong, silent type, huh? Never mind that," Shadow hums, waltzing toward a cart in the room's corner, lined with small torture devices. He picks a small knife up, holding it to the dim light, and nods. "He hasn't spoken a word, son. He seems to think he can suffer here in silence and die without telling me who he is and why he’s at my home." Shadow pulls something else from the tray and throws it at me with a snarl. "But by looking at his badge, you can tell exactly who he is and where he came from. The only question is, who the fuck is Veritas?"

My heart drops into my ass when I focus on the badge, unable to peel my eyes away from the name stamped into the shiny metal. Veritas. Agent 10. I know what this means. All because of Olivia. I'll keep it that way if he doesn’t know who Veritas is.

It’s the organization Olivia is a part of. She's an agent. He's an agent. The question stands, though. Why is he here? Is he a damn spy sent by the organization to watch Shadow? Grab Journey and me? But how does my father not know about Veritas? They appear to be a super underground government agency that only emerges when our three-letter organizations can't catch the bad guys. I've heard the stories from Liv. How they swoop in and do whatever is necessary. Whatever it takes. Then, they take the people to some island prison that's almost impossible to escape from.

I shake myself from my stupor and pull my notebook from my pocket. Quickly, I write a note, holding it up to Shadow, who scoffs at me. He wants to tell me to use my voice again, but he doesn't. Maybe he's finally come to terms with what he did to me by taking my tongue in his drunken stupor.

'Where did he come from?'

"The boat," Shadow says through gritted teeth. "This Veritas person thought they could sneak up on my island and stake it out." I stiffen.

The agent in question watches Shadow pace back and forth with the knife in his hand, ready to stab him at any time.

"I want answers. And you're going to help me," Shadow growls, turning on his heels to eye me. "You're going to use this and cut when and how I say."

Another challenge. He's testing my loyalty to him and his gang.

"If you do this and do it well, I won't harm your precious Journey. She's in the caves, sitting in the dark and wondering what you're doing. So, what will it be? Some stranger over her? Or..." he trails off with a grin when I shove the badge of the Veritas agent into my pocket to keep for later. As much as I don’t want to participate, I have to. And if this agent dies under my father’s watch, then someone, somewhere, will look for him.

I told Journey before. I'm not a hero, but a villain. And today, for her, I will live up to that label. This agent has done nothing to me. Not directly. Shit, Liv could have sent him to retrieve us. I'm sure after whatever Jericho and Arrow went through, they met up at the cabin and then went to her for help.

Stepping up, I grip the small knife from my father tightly. I swallow the bile in my throat and settle my brain, which urges me to run in the opposite direction. I hate this. Having to slice into someone’s flesh to get them to open their mouths has never been my intimidation tactic. I’m not Arrow or Jericho, who can handle this with ease.

I’m Sheppard Mondelli. A mafia man disgusted by the sight of blood.

"We've been through this before, Agent. Who sent you? Why? And where'd you come from?" My father paces, putting his hands behind his back.

The agent's tired eyes volley between us, finally landing on me. He blinks several times, showing off the deep blue of his eyes.

"I sent myself. You're a suspect in terrorist acts against humanity. And I came from your mom," the agent says sarcastically, smirking.

"You better start telling the truth," Shadow growls, gripping the man by the neck and squeezing. "Tell me everything I want, or I'll leave you here until you do. Cut his fucking cheek, son.”

Cut his fucking cheek, son. Like I cut yours for defying me at every step. Cut him, son, like I cut out your tongue for speaking up against me and my ways. Cut him, son, like I used to when I snuck into your room after drinking myself sick and taking whatever I wanted.

Cut him.

Cut him!

My body tenses, stuck to the floor. Despite the look Shadow gives me when he finally stops pacing. Something shifts in his eyes—darkness swirling there, zoning in on me as I remain stuck in place with his words ping-ponging in my mind. Indecision takes me over. Do I? Don’t I? I have no choice. To keep breathing for one more day so I can escape from this island with my life, I have to sacrifice my morals.

“Today, son! Fucking do it, or I’ll call someone who can!” Angry spittle roars from his lips as he shouts at me, knocking me from my stupor. And I do it. I mark the agent with the small knife from the bottom of his left eye to the edge of his jaw. Instantly, it bleeds, sending waves of blood down his pale skin.

“Well, I didn’t fucking think you had it in you, Sheppard.” He almost sounds proud when he chuckles, clutching my shoulder tightly and squeezing. “Now, let’s fucking start again. This time, I want a mark for every question that goes unanswered. Can you do that, boy? Can you make your father proud?”

I turn myself off at those words, muting everything around me until I’m a hollow husk of a man. It’s something I learned to do as a kid under his assault. The beatings. The touching. I became anyone but myself, disappearing into the void.

We go round and round with the agent until he's completely passed out and bloodied with so many cuts, I don’t know how he’s still breathing. Luckily for him, I never went too deep. Only leaving superficial cuts that have bloodied his skin.

I stumble out of the room, covered in blood splatters. On my skin. On my clothes. It’s everywhere, reminding me of what I was forced to do. Shadow continues to shout at the agent, who passed out. I press my fist to my lips, attempting to contain my sloshing stomach, and finally plopping onto the old velvet chair to regain myself. My lungs burn as I choke back breaths. My head falls back, clunking against the moldy wall. I wince, forcing myself to count the cracks in the ceiling. One. Two. Three. Repeatedly until my mind returns to a sense of calm. Or as calm as I can get after torturing someone for information.

But they’re not here. I’m alone with the fucking devil, hellbent on bending me to his vicious will. But I won’t succumb.

My stomach twists and turns when I bring my hands to my face, gently wiping the wetness from it and coating my hands in blood. Red. It’s everywhere on my flesh.

I almost killed him.

My stomach lurches.

After so many years of doing this, you'd think I would be accustomed to the blood and chaos. But I'm not. The hell my father put me through as a child has taken its toll on my mental health, constantly taking me back to those moments of abuse.

Soft footsteps approach from the space I vacated. Eager to leave the carnage I inflicted on an innocent man undeserving of my ire. As his steps get closer, I shut myself off. Turning all of my emotions into nothing but dust, leaving my feelings of rage, disgust, and desperation at the door.

"Well, color me impressed, son. You gave him a beating." Shadow emerges from the room, wiping his hands on a towel, looking pleased. For the first time in his life, he regards me with pride shining in his eyes. Like I've finally become the monster he was so eager to craft. "I knew you had it in you."

'But he didn't talk,' I write out with exasperation.

"Meh. You took the knife like a good boy and used it like I taught you. It was fun, besides if someone was so concerned about their little agent. Then they'd be here by now. They don't give two fucks about him." He's too cocky for his own good, which only means disaster is on the horizon.

Veritas is sneaky in its efforts against people.

'And you?' I write out, holding it up when I finally get to my shaky legs and stand tall. Almost eye to eye with him.

"I'm not fucking worried," he growls, throwing the bloodied towel on the ground. "What are they going to do? Storm my fucking island? They'll have a big goddamn surprise in store for them." A grin stretches his lips. "They won't make it past the barrier. Just like the last boat." He points to the room the agent is in with a shrug. "Now, let's leave this shitbag to stew in his fucking blood." He waltzes off, leaving me behind without a glance back, making his way to his office.

The light flicks on down the hall, lighting up the shitty carpet outside the room. My heart echoes in my ears when I peer back at the space we vacated. There's nothing more I can do without getting myself killed. Or Journey. Or Sunshine. Too many people I care about are in my father's crosshairs.

So, I drag my feet down the hall and stand in the light of his room, taking it all in. He sits in his chair, rifling through a million pieces of paper. I'm mesmerized by his movements, sucked into the past we shared.

The heinous, ugly fucking hell he put me through for years. And now, I have to look him in the eyes and pretend his hands never touched me or his fists never hit me or my mom. I have to pretend he didn’t force his five-year-old to stand in the corner of the room as he tortured someone for hours on end. Only then he didn’t offer me the knife to help. He forced me to watch and take notes to be just like him.

"Stick with me, son. You'll live your greatest life here." He leans back, closing his eyes with a satisfied smile. Blood coats his clothes and skin, splattering across him. But he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s satisfied with what he’s done.

Get fucked, asshole—is what I want to say. Instead, I nod, walking further into his office until I stand opposite him. My eyes scan the room, taking in its contents and committing them to memory.

His desk. The paintings on the walls. The trash in the corners. I plan to search through everything Shadow owns. No matter how long it takes, I’ll find the answers I need—anything to help me get out of here safely with Journey.

If he's only taking Journey to the wedding, I'll use the opportunity to dig.

A sharp knock on the door pulls our attention to Darrell standing tall in the doorway with another burly man standing slightly behind him. "The Russians are vacating the island," he says with a scowl.

Shadow stops his movements and sighs. "Let them. We've agreed on paper. If they go back on their word, well, I'll show the Bratva what Shadow is capable of," he snorts. "Shall we see them off, son? Let Mikhail and his little army of counselors know we've got our eyes on them?" He doesn't bother waiting for me to nod or respond; he gets up, and I reluctantly follow him into the hallway.

He stops before the burly man I've never seen and discreetly nods at him. The burly man nods back, and they have a whole discussion without saying a word.

Shadow pats him on the shoulder before walking toward the elevators, with Darrell trailing behind us. But I don't miss the way Darrell eyes the other man as he disappears down the hall, coming from the room Shadow and I left the agent in.

Weird.

We make it up the elevator in relative silence. Darrell sneaks looks at me, furrowing his brows. Reminding me I still have blood splattered on my clothes and skin. I shrug it off, mentally ignoring the fact I'm covered in some agent's blood as we follow Shadow out of the elevator and converge in the lobby.

"Mikhail!" my father shouts out sharply, walking up to him with purpose. "Are you leaving my hospitality so soon?"

Mikhail offers him a soft smile, folding his hands in front of him. "As much as we have appreciated your hospitality, I must get my wife back home and tended to."

"Tended to?" Shadow asks, shifting his feet slightly.

It almost seems as if he cares.

"Yes. Tended to. My wife will receive a new heart within the week." Fuck. He’s leaving with Sunshine before Journey has time to see them off.

They say actions speak louder than words; I believe it with Mik. I know Journey has reservations about him. Even after coming to terms with this is the best course of action for Sunshine. She’s still too weary to trust anyone with Sunshine’s health. Understandable. But he’s proving his point.

"Within the week," Shadow whistles. "You move quickly."

"Indeed. Now, if you don't mind, I'd love to settle her in her new home before next Friday." Mikhail raises a no-nonsense brow, begging Shadow to question his motives.

"Of course," Shadow says, gritting his teeth. "You're all free to leave as you please. I certainly hope our contract is still intact."

Mikhail smiles, displaying all his teeth. "Of course. I wouldn't turn my back on a new ally who helped eradicate the world of my father." I eye the other council members standing behind Mikhail and take in the way they look down at Shadow, ready to cut him down if he makes one wrong move.

I wish they would. They’d save me the trouble.

"Sheppard," Mikhail says, breaking away from Shadow's glare. "It was a pleasure to meet you and Journey." His eyes travel around me. "Please send her my regards. It’s such a shame she won’t be able to say goodbye to her sister. Tell her how truly sorry I am for that.” Mikhail shoves his hand into mine, squeezing it tightly. I don’t react when a rough texture sits between our two hands, and he slips it into my grip without detection. "Take care, Sheppard." He nods at me.

I nod in response, immediately tucking my hand into my pocket while waving with the other. Mikhail watches my actions with a critical eye, nodding one last time before he turns his back to me.

All Mikhail’s associates file out of the hotel, quietly heading toward the docks down a set of brightly lit stairs outside. One by one, they file down, successfully making it to several boats docked on the island.

"That little prick is up to something," Shadow growls, thrashing his arms about. “He’s going to betray us. I fucking know it.”

I watch through the darkened windows as the lights of their boats fade, no doubt heading to Briar Cove to get on a plane and leave the area for good. Good riddance, Mik. You better take care of Sunshine before Shadow figures out how to get his hands back on her. Because he will, I can tell he’s already plotting through his rage.

They weren’t supposed to leave yet. They were supposed to go to the wedding with all of us and celebrate the alliance with Elias.

"I want all their rooms checked over. Fuck. I don't have time for this shit," Shadow grunts. "I have to leave in the fucking morning." He cuts a glare to Darrell. "Make sure everyone does their fucking part. I need to have a little chat with my most prized prisoner."

I bristle at his words, turning to eye him. "This is how it's going to play out. You're going to be a good little boy and go to your fucking room. Darrell, escort him back. Lock him up. Tomorrow, you will stay there while your girlfriend and I take an important field trip to Elias’ wedding. If she completes the task I give her, we'll return safely. If she doesn't. Well…” he trails off menacingly. “She’ll fucking die. Then I’ll come back and make your life a living fucking hell.” Like he already has? Every second in his presence is a second in hell.

Task? What the fuck is he talking about? Stay here?

I realize then.

He separated us for good. For a reason. Giving her something to do at Elias’ wedding on land. He's going to take her. Use her. And there's nothing I can do about it. Again.

I step forward to ask him questions, but Darrell puts a hand on my bicep, stopping my movements. I look back at him with questioning eyes. Discreetly, he shakes his head.

If he doesn't bring Journey back alive and safe, he will have a whole new problem.

Me.

The entire way back to my room, Darrell side-eyes me with a frown of disapproval. "Bloody night?" he grunts, looking me up and down with a critical eye, taking in the stains all over my body.

I nod . 'Something like that.' I write it on my notepad, holding it up for him to see.

The memories of our assault against the silent agent play on repeat in my mind. He didn’t beg or plead with us to stop. He took it. The look in the agent’s eyes as I dug the knife into his flesh and wreaked havoc on him was crushing. I didn't want to. Not really. I wanted to run. Show my fear. But I stood firm in my father's eyes to prove my loyalty to him. To Journey. So we were protected from his rage. For whatever he had in store for us.

Shame fills me. Guilt tears through me. But I stop it all before it can infect me like a disease. I can't think like that. He was just another job. Another life to fuck with as we please. With Jericho and Arrow, we spend our time going after the bad people, taking down the lowlifes for the people of our town. Not that we haven’t cut down someone who didn’t directly deserve it. We have. For the Family. Always doing what we’re told. But we knew if they were associated with the mafia, then they had done evil in their life.

The agent is innocent in a sense. He’s working to clean up the nation of the worst of the worst. Or at least, I like to pretend he has. Maybe he is terrible, and that’s why he’s here. But I don’t honestly know.

Fuck.

I’m part of the Devils of Briar Cove. The muscle of the group. The person our enemy hates to see slowly coming at them because they know Jericho and Arrow aren’t far behind. They’re the blood of the group—the takers—removing the seedy monsters of the world.

Shit. I miss my brothers. I miss Journey.

Darrell eyes me suspiciously again. His gaze burns straight through me. But he says nothing further after dropping me off at my room.

"Same rules apply," he says, leveling me with a look. A look I can't figure out like unsaid words. “Tomorrow, you'll be free to roam. Shadow won't be here. It'll be a skeleton crew on the island.” He raises his brows, leaning forward as if to say—now is your fucking chance to scope out his office.

And I’ll take it.

Tomorrow, come Hell or high water; I’m breaking into that fucking office and finding my unanswered questions.

Our lives depend on it.