Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
ANGELICA
You’re going to be the end of us.
Silas’s words were still warm on my lips, his breath a cruel caress over my skin as his grip on my chin tightened—then loosened.
He let me go.
And the moment he did, I stumbled back.
The air in the bathroom was too thick, too hot, too suffocating. I could still feel him against me, his voice coiling through my veins, sinking into my bones.
I was going to be the end of them.
Just as they were going to be the end of me.
I shook my head, stepping back faster now, my body trembling.
The words wouldn’t leave my head. They clung to my skin, seeped into my blood, whispering through the cracks in my mind where that haunting voice didn’t reach. There wasn’t anything left of me, not from him…or them.
I needed to get away from him.
From his eyes.
From the truth.
I turned and ran to my room, slamming the door behind me, locking it, pressing my back against it as I tried to catch my breath.
It didn’t work.
Because that whisper was still there.
Your brothers will never forgive you.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but it was useless that sickening hiss resounded in my skull.
How long until you kill them too?
“No,” the cry ripped free.
The memories were pushing through, forcing their way in.
The warmth of a gun in my hand.
The smell of blood.
The thump as my father’s body hit the floor.
I clapped my hands over my ears, shaking my head, whispering. “No, no, no,” under my breath—but it wasn’t enough.
It was never enough.
Because I hadn’t just been there the night our parents died.
I’d pulled the trigger.
And this voice—this unmerciful goddamn voice— made me do it.
I staggered to the dresser, gripping the edge, my nails biting into the wood. I wanted to tear my head apart. I wanted to dig my fingers into my skull and pull this thing out.
I wanted to pull him out.
The man.
The shadowed, faceless man who haunted me.
“Show me,” I moaned. “Show me who the hell you are so I can kill you!”
The low, guttural chuckle that followed made me sick to my stomach. I grabbed the first thing I could reach—a heavy glass perfume bottle—and squeezed it in my hand, my knuckles turning white.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up ? —”
I swung it at my head.
Crack .
The force slammed into my skull, a sharp explosion of pain, but it wasn’t enough.
The whispers were still there.
The memories still crawling around my thoughts. Biting like thousand ants.
I swung again.
Crack .
And again.
Crack!
White sparks ignited behind my eyes. Pain stung at the side of my face and warmth trickled down. My hand trembled and somewhere in the house, a door slammed. BOOM .
Heavy footsteps followed.
A voice—deep, dark, filled with fire. “Where the fuck is she?”
Theo.
I froze.
The perfume bottle slipped from my fingers, shattering against the floor. The footsteps came closer.
“ANGEL!”
I took a step back, my breath coming too fast, too shallow.
He wasn’t just looking for me. He was hunting me. If he found me like this—blood dripping down the side of my face, the evidence of what I’d done still fresh on my skin—I didn’t know what he'd do.
So I did the only thing I could.
I ran.
Not to escape him.
Not to get away.
But because I had to tear it out of me before it destroyed everything.
The whispers were relentless now, rising like a storm inside my head, a thousand voices speaking over each other, layering, twisting, growing louder.
You killed them, Angel.
Your brothers will never forgive you for this.
You didn’t just let them die, did you?
It was your hand around the gun.
Your finger on the trigger.
Your name your parents screamed.
You.
You.
YOU.
.
.
.
Run .
My bare feet slammed against the floor, the hallway stretching before me like an endless voice. The walls blurred, my vision tunneling, the edges of the world twisting.
I wasn’t in the house anymore.
I was there that night.
The smell of blood, wood smoke, and gunpowder choked me. My hands were slick, wet, my fingers twitching around the phantom weight of a gun.
Steady now, little doll. You know what to do.
NO.
I clawed at my head, gasping as the pressure built, as the voices slammed into me from all sides.
Pull the trigger, Angel.
They don’t need to suffer. Just do it. Just finish it. Get what we want and we’ll end this for good.
My blows were useless, still I slammed my knuckles against my head over and over…and over again.
What did your father whisper to you before he died?
An animal sound escaped my lips
Before you looked him in the eyes and pulled the trigger. What was it Angelica? Did he tell you he loved you? Or was it hate?
I sobbed, the sound ripped from my throat like an open wound, but my body kept running, slamming through the rear door and out into the first rays of the morning light.
I had to get away.
Get away from it.
From them.
Behind me, a door slammed open so hard the walls rattled. Theo’s roar of fury cut through the night, a violent, jagged sound that sent a shudder through my entire body.
“Where the fuck is our sister?!”
My breath hitched. My pulse skipped, then lunged. His voice wasn’t just rage now—it was desperation.
I stumbled around the corner, my body moving on instinct, my vision swimming with memories and shadows.
“ANGEL!”
I pressed a hand to my chest, holding in my heart as it slammed against my ribs like it wanted to escape me. But I had to keep moving.
The whispers grew louder.
Tell them the truth, Angel.
Tell them what you did.
Tears pricked at my eyes as I ran, blurring the thick brush that surrounded the compound of our house. I crashed through the branches, my breath raw in my throat.
Pick it up, Angel. You know how to use it.
The gun. The goddamn gun. It sat there, waiting on the edge of the desk, gleaming beneath the dim light.
Behind it, my father and mother—bound. Gagged. Pleading.
I tried to fight then, just as I tried to fight now.
Pick it up.
The dark whisper slid inside my skull, curling around my mind like a lover’s fingers. My breath came in quick, shattered gasps.
Pick. It. Up.
I let out a shaking breath, my body convulsing as I tore through the brush, desperate to disappear. Desperate to become nothing.
The harder I ran, the colder the night air became. But it wasn’t enough. The whispers didn’t stop. The memories didn’t stop.
Blood streamed down my father’s face. His wide, desperate eyes locked onto mine, his head shaking violently as he pleaded with me, his screams trapped behind the gag.
The gun was in my hand before I even knew it. Heavy. Cold. Unfeeling.
Just like I was.
You know what to do.
That voice wasn’t just a whisper anymore. It was a command, a kiss against my ear soaked in sin.
You know exactly what to do.
The past and the present blurred, twisting into a single moment of terror.
And then, he screamed.
Please, remember!
Dante Ares. My father. The ruthless man who built an empire. The man who never pleaded for anything in his life—except this.
My mother didn’t scream.
She didn’t cry. Didn’t fight.
She was motionless, her dead eyes already fixed on me.
As if she knew.
As if she’d always known.
Pull the trigger, Angel.
The dark whisper kissed against my ear, venom and silk.
Kill your father. End it before it ends you.
The voice wasn’t a whisper now. It was a command.
I choked on a sob as my knees buckled.
I hit the brush hard, the impact slamming pain through my body—knees skinned raw, hands scraped and bleeding.
And then my fingers curled around something cold and heavy.
A stone.
I lifted it with a shaking grip, my chest heaving, and for one agonizing second, I knew.
I was going to smash in my own goddamn skull.
Before I could move, a snarl cut through the night, sharp and lethal.
Then something massive slammed into me.
The world collapsed around me as Theo tackled me to the ground, his weight crushing me into the dirt. His grip unforgiving, punishing. My hands were wrenched away from the stone as it clattered into the darkness.
His rough hands grabbed my wrists, pinning them down, caging me beneath the sheer, suffocating force of him.
“You think you can fucking leave?” His voice was a raw, guttural sound, so thick with rage it coiled through my veins like poison.
I screamed, bucking, fighting, but he was fucking relentless, his strength unyielding. My mind snapped between reality and the past, between the ghosts in my head and the beast pinning me down.
His fingers fisted in my hair, yanking my head back with brutal possession.
“LOOK AT ME!” Theo bellowed.
My breath hitched. Something cracked inside me.
The whispers screeched in protest, but the moment I locked eyes with him, everything stilled.
Not because I was afraid.
Because I wasn’t.
Theo’s pupils were blown wide, his chest heaving, his entire body tense, shaking with rage.
And I felt it. All of it.
The darkness. The hunger. The uncontrollable need to own, to claim, to ruin.
My lips parted, a breathless, shuddering whimper spilling from them.
Something flickered across Theo’s face. Realization.
You like this.
You fucking love this.
Before I could take another breath, I was hauled over his shoulder, his grip punishing, his breath ragged, hard, like he was on the edge of losing control.
“Fucking done with this,” he snarled. “You wanna run from me? Run inside.”
I screamed, kicked, but it didn’t matter.
He dragged me back through the trees, through the compound, up the steps and into the house, straight into his room.
The door slammed behind us.
I barely had time to breathe before he shoved me against it, his massive frame caging me in, his breath burning against my lips.
“Tell me,” he rasped. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
I couldn’t.
Because I did.
I always had.
His fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat. His teeth grazed my pulse.
“Fucking say it,” he demanded.
My nails bit into his shoulders, my entire body trembling with the force of everything I’d spent years denying.
“You can’t fight it,” he growled. “You were made for this.”
And he was right. I was.
I was programmed to be whatever they wanted me to be.
Liar.
Lover.
Sister.
Everything …
The moment his mouth crashed into mine, I shattered.
There was no hesitation. No softness.
This was brutal, desperate, possessive—the kind of kiss that consumed, that took, that destroyed. My lips were crushed against my teeth, bruising and hurting until I couldn’t breathe.
His hands were rough, punishing, leaving bruises in their wake as he gripped my hips, lifted me, pinned me against the door.
I moaned into his mouth, nails dragging down his back, my body aching, needing.
I yanked his shirt, nails digging into his skin.
His hand wrapped around my throat.
“Say it,” he growled. “Say you’re mine.”
My throat worked, the words tangled somewhere deep inside me.
His grip tightened, forcing me to feel the sheer power of him, the absolute truth in his touch.
And when I whispered, “Yes,” it wasn’t surrender. “I’m yours.”
It was a revelation.
Because I’d known it all along.
I belonged to them.
And he was never letting me go.
I was still trapped in the whispers.
They coiled around me, sliding inside my mind, threading through my veins.
There is no escape, Angel. No escape from us. No escape from what you are.
I stopped fighting.
Theo didn’t notice.
His grip on my wrists was iron, his breath ragged and scorching against my skin. His body pinned me down, his hands branding me as his fucking possession.
“This is what you fucking wanted, isn’t it?” Theo growled, his voice thick with something raw and violent.
My lips parted, but I didn’t speak.
I didn’t need to.
Because he already knew.
He reached down, yanking Silas’s t-shirt up and pulled my panties aside, not even stopping to pull them off before he lifted his hips, rearing backwards. The second he slammed inside me, my body arched, my breath ripped from my lungs.
Theo didn’t move slow. He didn’t tease, didn’t wait.
This was brutal. Desperate. A war he was fighting with himself as he thrust inside me over and over.
Every brutal blow was punishment, but not for me—for him.
Because I’d run.
Because I had almost left him.
Because no matter how much he owned me, I would always belong to something else first.
And then, my lips moved.
Soft.
Reverent.
A whisper that wasn’t mine to give.
Las Almas Perdidas.
The words came from nowhere.
But it wasn’t from that dark, foul whisper in my head. It came from nowhere, blooming from the back of my mind.
Theo stilled.
Just for a second. Just enough for the whisper to slip between us like a blade to the throat.
And then, the door slammed open, wrenching my gaze toward the spill of light from the hallway.
Silas.
His ragged breath filled the silence.
He saw everything.
His eyes dragged over the room, over my wrecked body, over Theo’s shaking frame still locked against mine.
And then, they settled on my lips.
Those words came again, slipping free from the depths of my mind.
“Las Almas Perdidas.”
Silas took a step forward. But it wasn’t because of what Theo was doing…he was fixed on me. Enraged by me. His expression shifting into something lethal.
“What did you just say?”
Theo’s head snapped toward him, his muscles still tight, his possessive rage not entirely gone.
Angelica. His.
But I wasn’t his.
Not fully. Not yet.
I turned my head, my pulse thrumming, my body still trembling from what Theo had done to me.
I licked my lips, tasting blood, sweat, and something deeper. Something broken.
And then I laughed.
Soft.
Haunting.
A sound that didn’t belong to me alone.
Silas’ jaw clenched. “Angelica, where the fuck did you hear that name?”
Theo finally focused, his grip tightening on my hips, like he could physically anchor me back to him.
But it was too late.
The whispers were too deep.
“You already know,” I murmured. “Don’t you? You. Already. Know.”
And that’s when everything changed.