Twisted in Chaos (Destructive Devastation #2)

Chapter 58

It's been two intense days under Grace's scrutiny. Two days of getting sick, eating lunch and dinner, and then being escorted to our room when the time comes. Two days after Arrow left the mansion to check on his lions and never came back.

Two days of utter hell. Two days of rinse and repeat. I'm afraid to think of our future under Grace's hand. Something tells me she won't be as forgiving or nice.

"You think he's all right?" I murmur, staring out the window of a room overlooking the back of the property.

The large trees sway in the wind, losing their leaves.

"He's Arrow," Shepp murmurs, pulling me back into his front. "He'll survive whatever the fuck he's doing."

"They haven't eaten him, have they?" It's been my main worry since he disappeared. Previously, when he took me out there, he told me how he had slept with them. Never specifying where and how. I can only imagine his bloodied and clawed body lying in the open field after they attacked him or worse, ate him. I shudder, my stomach turning at the thought of losing my little psychopath to something as simple as a lion attack.

"No," Shepp mutters softly. "They see him as their parent. Even though they're wild and the zookeeper would disagree, they'd never harm him. Now, other people who tried to get him out. Yeah. They'd bite their faces." Case in point: the guards she sent to retrieve him after he didn't come back. Well, they're lion food. It was stupid of them to even go inside. That has my nerves on edge.

"We'll need to retrieve him," Jericho says from my other side, looking out the window with a pensive expression. "He'll be fine, Little Chaos. It's Arrow, after all."

"And your mother will let us go out there?" I question, raising a brow.

She hasn't let us out of her sight since we arrived. It's like she's afraid of losing us. Mostly me and the baby, I fear. She's been oddly happy about the baby and begging me to pick out nursery designs. Like she’s living her life through me and eager to get her paws on my damn baby.

I sigh when the sound of the lock clicking filters through the air.

"Show time," Jericho mutters, taking my hand and leading me away from Shepp.

That's another thing. She doesn't understand the relationship we have with each other. All four of us being an item. So, we have to pretend, since I'm Jericho's wife, that it's just him and I.

"Darling," Grace says, entering the room and hugging Jericho. "Journey. Shepp," she says with a bright smile. Well, bright might be too kind to the vibes she's giving off. She's something akin to Arrow in his darkest hour. Only, she doesn't hide it very well. Or try to tame it.

"Mother," Jericho says, stepping back.

"We have got something exciting to do today," she says with a grin, pulling me out of the room by the hand. "Right here!" She pulls me in front of Shepp's art studio, the one room dedicated to his pieces he cherished. Oh, the memories of him painting me after our night in the woods. When the paintbrush smoothly descended my flesh and painted my scars. "We're going to use this as the nursery. So, near both our rooms." She grins, shoving the doors open and revealing an empty space.

I suck in a breath. It’s empty. Everything. It’s all gone. Bare walls. No tarps on the ground. My heart sinks into my churning stomach at the implications of Shepp losing everything he’s worked so hard on over the years.

No. No. No.

Shepp’s hard breaths ring through the air, stifling the sobs threatening to break through.

“Shepp,” I whisper, wheeling around to stare into the devastation wreaking havoc in his ocean eyes misting over. All the color has disappeared from his face, leaving him ghostly white.

He shakes his head, taking a small step back from us. Those wide eyes take in every inch of the empty space.

"Mother," Jericho says in a low voice, attempting to mask the anger building in him. Attempting being the keyword. I read Jericho like a book. The tic in his jaw lets me know he’s about to strangle his mother with his bare hands. But he’s restraining himself so well. "Where have all the art pieces gone?"

I hold my breath. Everyone has taken from Shepp except for Arrow and Jericho. They nurtured him into the man he is. Accepting him for who he is. Learning sign language so they could communicate easily with him. When no one else did anything to step up.

Now, someone has taken from him again. His voice when he had none. Through the pictures he created, he told the world of his anguish without having to utter a word.

Grace raises her brows. "What art, hon? Maybe your father had something to do with it?" There's a breeziness to her voice giving away the actions she conceived.

I step forward, ready to pummel her fucking face in for ruining something so special for Shepp. Something that meant everything to him in a world of silence. But Jericho stops me by putting a hand on my upper arm and gently squeezing.

“My father, hmm?” he grits out, blowing out a breath. “It would be a shame if someone say—you—did something so heinous to beautiful pieces of art. Especially pieces worth millions of dollars.”

Grace stiffens at the amount of money hanging in the air. “Well, we’ll have to try to track those down now, won’t we?” she says, stepping forward.

"If you'll excuse me. I need to..." Shepp’s haunted voice rings through the air, choked by the emotions he’s desperate to hold back. Tears swim in his eyes, drowning out the light once reignited in him.

He stumbles back, falling over his feet until he pushes from the room. Grace watches him with interest, quirking a brow at the guard behind us, silently encouraging him to follow Shepp. The sound of Shepp’s heaving breaths has my heart in a vise. They echo through the hall.

“Good God! Take him outside and make him control himself!” Grace hisses to the guard standing in the doorway, flicking her wrist.

“Yes, boss,” the guard grumbles when he leaves the room.

I hold my breath when they turn away from us and are out of sight. I want to reach for him. Beg him to stay with us so we can tamp down his anxiety. But I let him go off with the guard, hoping the fresh air would help him recover from such a great loss. Their retreating footfalls echo through the halls. A door slams somewhere downstairs, and silence engulfs the mansion.

"Perhaps it would be in everyone's best interest if we found the missing pieces," Jericho rumbles, pulling me close.

I can almost hear what he's thinking. Grace is playing a very dangerous game right now, taking away the simple things she knows each of us loves to destroy us inch by inch. She wants our foundations to crack, and then the rest will follow.

"The soft lighting in here will be perfect for little eyes. We can get blackout curtains and hold off the sunshine. What color were you thinking, Journey dear? I was thinking something neutral, like yellow or a soft green." Grace turns to me with a hopeful expression, folding her hands in front of her. “Or maybe we should wait until we find out the sex of the baby. That’ll be soon! Then we can really work on a color.” She sighs happily, staring around the room as dreams blossom behind her eyes of how this will all work once my baby comes.

I’m about to retort something sarcastic like, go to hell, bitch. But I’m interrupted by a burly-looking man standing in the doorway with a heaving chest. Sweat trickles down his forehead when his utter fear pulls down his features.

"Boss," a deep voice echoes through the room. "He… took off. Should we..." he trails off with a wary look, gesturing to the gun strapped to his hip.

The hairs on my arms stand on end at his implication, but Jericho gently squeezes me. He knows how this game works, too. We have to remain calm even if they’re talking about gunning Shepp down. We have to trust he makes it to wherever.

Grace purses her lips. “So, you let him out of your sight? Let me guess, a fucking butterfly flew past and took your attention off the massive man throwing a fit in the backyard?”

“No, boss. I….” He rubs at his reddened cheek with a frown. “He sucker-punched me, and I lost consciousness for a second, and he got away. The other guards…” he trails off when Grace loosens her stance and sashays to him, swinging her hips.

Her painted nail traces over his jaw, down to his chin, and around his lips. “You had one job, Jerry. One fucking job to keep them in your sights, and you fucking…” She grins maniacally when Jerry’s lips pop open and blood spurts from his stomach. A small knife protrudes from his flesh. Where it came from, I haven’t a fucking clue. Jericho protectively holds me tight. “I’d suggest you walk it off and see the doc about your affliction.” She flicks the small knife and then yanks it out harshly, spraying blood onto the carpet. “Oh, sugar. Looks like we’ll have to add shampooing the carpets to the list.” She shrugs, waltzing back into the middle of the room as Jerry staggers out. “That’s a reminder for you two, as well. Don’t fuck with me or leave the premises. It’ll only end in your death.”

My thoughts float to Elias and Mikhail. What has become of them? Were they able to complete their mission with Gabriel's many bars and restaurants? But I don't dare ask and tip her off.

"Why don't we pick some paint colors for the walls? I can't wait to fill this room with the sound of a baby." She sighs, turning back to us with a light smile. "Can you believe in just nine short months the little one will be here?" She rubs her hand over my stomach, inching closer and closer until we’re a breath apart. “Soon,” she murmurs, looking directly at my unborn child.

I stand rigidly, attempting to keep my composure. Harder than it sounds—might I add. If I had that knife, I’d stab her through the throat and suffer the consequences from her guards. Jericho and I would run to the others and fucking get out of this mansion. Shivers roll down my spine at the look she gives my stomach again. Not letting go. Like she wants to reach in there and take the baby for herself.

"We're thrilled about the arrival of our firstborn," Jericho comments, keeping me close to his side and watching her like a hawk.

"As am I," she coos with a grin, finally stepping back. My muscles don’t relax when she claps her hands excitedly. "Now, let's go down for lunch and look at the magazines I found."

"Magazines?" I mutter when she walks out the door and heads down the stairs, leaving us to linger in the room that will now be our nursery. Or not, if I can fucking help it.

Jericho halts my steps, stopping to stand in the middle of the room. Leaning down, he kisses my lips softly. "We need a plan here, Little Chaos." There’s an odd sense of desperation in his eyes. He knows we’re nearing the end of our ropes.

How much more can we take at the hands of his mother? With my monster, he was predictable. Hell, even Thomas was. But Grace? She’s off her damn rocker, and there’s nothing we can do to escape this hell she’s thrust us into, especially with our baby’s life in danger to her wicked ways.

"Where do you think Shepp went?" I whisper against his lips, staring deep into his dark eyes.

"No doubt to find Arrow. He won't be thinking straight." Jericho's heavy breaths whoosh over my flesh, warming me when he pulls me closer. "Let's be mindful of what we say in front of the psycho, yeah?"

"Yes," I whisper. "I'm worried now."

"Are you two coming? Your lunch is getting cold." Grace breaks up our fake kissing fest with a soft smile. "It's so beautiful to see the two of you so deeply in love." She sighs wistfully. "Reminds me of Thomas and I in our heyday... How was he?" She quirks a knowing brow.

"Before or after Sheppard put a knife through his throat?" Jericho goads, stiffening when she giggles manically.

"That man always did what he was told, didn't he? Such a shame he had to be sacrificed for the greater good. Oh, well. He served his purpose for our enterprise. Tell me, did he have anything fun to say? Any gossip to let loose?"

"Quite the contrary." Jericho shrugs, weaving his fingers with mine again. "He didn't have a lot of things to say. Although, the letters we found were quite telling. I'm curious, did you plan it all along?"

Grace takes a small step back, putting her hand on her chest. "Plan what?"

"Your escape from Gabriel? Leaving me here to suffer under his hands? I'm just trying to piece it all together." His voice remains devoid of emotions as he steps toward her with me in tow.

She frowns. "You would have, too, if you had been through what I had," she sniffs, shaking her head. And when I think she’s showing her genuine emotions, her back straightens, and she claps again. "Lunch. Now. And then we'll discuss all things baby. None of this history talk." With that, she narrows her eyes, waiting for us to exit the room so she can follow us down the stairs.

I have a terrible fucking feeling about all this shit. Not only is she being forceful with the baby stuff. But Shepp and Arrow are on their own, doing god knows what.