Broken in the Dark (The Alarie Heirs #1)

Prologue

Scarlett

T ime is merely an inescapable illusion—the only thing I have left in this cold, cruel world.

And I don’t want it anymore.

Minutes turn into hours, hours into days, and days into weeks. And before I can do anything about it, all the hope stored inside my slowly failing heart disappears.

Because no one’s going to save me.

Besides, even if someone does come for me, I’m past the point of being saved.

I’m broken beyond repair, like a child’s toy that was played with too roughly.

I curl my body on the freezing concrete, my bare limbs so cold that a never-ending shiver takes over me. My teeth chatter, and my trembling hands, currently cuffed to the floor, press against my chest, seeking warmth. The sting of the metal digging into my wrists can barely be felt anymore.

I’m numb to everything, including him .

A monster with no face.

A demon who haunts my nightmares.

As I close my eyes, drifting off to either sleep or death, a cacophony of gunshots pierces the air in the level above me. I hear men shouting, feet charging, and glass shattering. Thud after thud repeats as if bodies are falling to the floor one by one. Dust floats down from the rickety beams overhead from the impact, spreading over my bruised skin.

“Where the fuck is she?” An animalistic roar thunders through the floorboards.

Fear overcomes me. My body quivers, knowing that this is it. And I’m sad to admit that a tiny part of me is relieved that, one way or another, this will all be over soon.

I hear the wrought iron door swing open at the top of the basement stairs for the first time in days and heavy footsteps quickly descending each one as if on a mission. I try to open my eyes, but my body and mind are too weak. Too exhausted. So I remain frozen, praying death will show me mercy and take me before I have to endure one more moment with him.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

My heart falters.

It’s not him .

So who is it?

A loud clang beside me startles me, but it’s not enough to provide my body with the adrenaline it needs to fight or even open my eyes, for that matter.

The icy metal of the shackles is removed from my wrists as something soft and warm is draped over my practically naked body. The thin floral dress I wore when I arrived here is merely a piece of soiled cloth, barely covering most of me.

“You’re safe, Scarlett. We’re taking you home.”

How does he know my name?

Who is we ?

And where is home?

My chapped lips slightly part, seeking answers to my questions, but nothing comes out.

Strong, warm arms slide under my body, lifting me easily and cradling me against a muscular chest, taking me up the stairs, away from here. Away from hell.

“Holy shit.” I hear a different male voice curse. “Is she alive?”

“Barely,” the man whose arms I’m in replies. I feel a pair of soft lips brush against my ear. “I’ve got you, Firefly. Stay with me.” The deep, familiar timbre of his voice pulses within me, awakening a tiny part of my soul, giving me something I thought I had completely lost.

Hope.

“What did he do to her?”

“You already know the answer to that question, brother,” a third man’s deep voice responds.

“Mom’s going to lose it when she sees her like this.”

A low-pitched grunt in agreement arises from a fourth man.

The smell of death permeates the air around me, invading my nostrils. I groan as nausea churns my empty stomach.

“We need to go. Now. Burn this place to the fucking ground. I don’t want to find anything left of it.”

We’re moving rapidly. Several pairs of footsteps echo in the space. A door grates open, and a rush of cold air whips at me as we walk…outside? I haven’t seen the outside in…I can’t remember how long. I try to open my eyes for just a glimpse of the sky, the sun, a tree, anything, but it’s futile.

My body has given up even if my mind hasn’t.

I use every last bit of strength left to nudge my face into the warm chest. A comforting masculine scent—leather and sandalwood—surrounds me.

“The men have rounded up three survivors we can bring in for questioning, but none of them appear to be who we want.” There’s a slight pause before the man says, “Le Diable’s not here… Do you think he knew we were coming?”

“I don’t know. But we don’t have time to think about that right now. We need to get her to the hospital. And fast.” A rough but gentle hand wraps around my wrist, multiple fingers pressing against my skin. “Her pulse is too weak.”

“I’ll call for an ambulance.”

“It’ll be faster if I take her.” The man’s hold on me tightens as a car door opens, and then carefully, he places me on a soft surface, my body melting into the comfort of the cushion beneath me, something I haven’t felt in a long time as a thick blanket is placed over me, covering every inch.

“You’ll be okay, Scarlett. I need you to be okay. Can you do that for me?”

I try to nod, but I’ve hit today’s last energy ration.

I feel a band wrap around my back, the material pressing against my sensitive flesh, and I whimper from the impact of the pain before a quiet click confirms it’s a seat belt.

The car door slams closed, and I hear another door open and then shut. Abruptly, we begin to move.

“We’ll be at the hospital in eight minutes. Have the doctors ready for her. And call Mom to tell her we found her,” the man snaps into, I assume, his phone before accelerating. “Scarlett, can you hear me? We’re almost there. I just need you to fight a little bit longer.”

But I don’t want to fight any longer.

I’m too tired.

So unbelievably tired.

The car’s engine roars, picking up speed and providing a calming white noise effect to my weary mind. And as I let my thoughts wander off to the place I’ve escaped to for the past who knows how long, I suddenly wonder, who just called me Firefly?