Chapter Twenty- Four
………………………….
Henri
THE DREAMS CONTINUED FOR TWO weeks.
Each night, I fell asleep holding her hand. Each dream, I found her. Entered her. Begged her to wake. Only for her to call me Master H and vanish.
I didn’t know if it was my own subconscious tormenting me or if we truly did connect on some dream plane. Either way, she didn’t wake up.
I never left that room.
I barely ate and hardly showered.
I didn’t shave or go for a walk.
If it wasn’t for Rachel putting food into my hands and reminding me to eat, I would’ve completely forgotten how.
Monday became Tuesday, Wednesday bled into Thursday, Friday turned to the weekend.
And still, Ily didn’t wake.
The doctor kept her stable. The machines kept her alive.
Ben and Stewart called at the end of the first week. The strain between us as they asked how Ily was grew so bad I wanted to hang up. I owed them every ounce of gratitude. Without them, Ily would be dead, and I would be Victor’s plaything. But…I didn’t have the strength to be grateful when Ily still hung in limbo. They filled in the awkward silence with updates on how Penelope and Abigail had flown home to America with them. How their weddings, minus any prenup, were planned for next month. Ily and I were invited. The conversation ended without an RSVP.
Caishen and the other jewels recovering in Q’s chateau came to check on my twin flame, some left to return to their families. But Rachel chose to stay until Ily woke up.
But she never moved.
Day by day, she remained the same, all while I fought two violent forces.
The urge to die mutated into a visceral desire to slaughter every man responsible. It wasn’t enough that Victor was dead. Had Q gone after the other Masters? What about the other monsters in the world who’d done this? What about all the girls like Ily who couldn’t wake and all the guys like Peter who’d died protecting them?
The longer I sat there, utterly useless and churning with despair, the deeper I fell into revenge.
By week three, I could barely look at anyone.
I blamed them but blamed myself more.
I hated them, but hated myself most of all.
Perhaps I was the reason Ily wouldn’t wake.
She didn’t respond to my voice. She begged me to hurt her in my dreams. Maybe she was afraid of me, hiding from me, and that fucking tore out my heart and made me rage all over again.
The churning black decay inside me grew worse.
I found myself glowering at the slight tan lines on her wrists where the cuffs used to be. I imagined all the ways I should’ve murdered Victor. I filleted him alive in my daydreams. I unravelled his intestines. I hacked up his bones and left him to rot in the caves.
Not seeing his corpse gave me no closure.
He haunted my every thought.
I caught glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye.
I saw him in the shadows.
I heard him around the click of Ily’s oxygen machine and the steady woosh of her breath.
Nothing brought her back to me.
Not my pleas; not my attempts at meditation.
I willed her to speak right into my heart.
I longed to hear her tell me how I could bring her back. How I could heal her, help her…but nothing.
Just silence.
Heart-wrenching silence that slowly broke me.
* * * * *
“Eat.” Q marched into the room and practically shoved a tray into my hands.
I shifted where I sat beside Ily, eyeing up the colourful salad, honeyed ham, and garlic butter potatoes.
The familiar sensation of sickness rose up and closed my throat. “Maybe later.” Placing the tray on the side table, I took Ily’s hand again.
Was it my imagination or did she flinch away from me?
Did she not want me to touch her?
Did she hate me for letting this happen?
Bowing my head, I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Get it together.
She loves you.
You know this.
Do not fucking doubt it now .
I jolted as Q planted a hand on my healing shoulder and squeezed.
Ily might not have changed in two weeks, but my body had. Despite not eating much, my back had knitted together just enough not to be a constant misery. The doctor changed my bandages every few days and removed my stitches yesterday. An awful tightness remained, and I hadn’t gotten up the guts to look in a mirror yet, but I felt halfway human instead of something peeled off the bottom of Victor’s shoe.
“You and I need to talk.” Q squeezed me again, then let me go. “Follow me. This isn’t a request.”
He stalked to the door and glowered when I didn’t move. “She’ll be fine for ten minutes. Come.”
“We can talk here.”
He glanced at Ily prone like Sleeping Beauty. “She can hear us. And what I have to say is for your ears only.” He snapped his fingers rudely. “Now, Henri. Otherwise, I’ll get Franco to carry you.”
Fresh annoyance flushed through me as I kissed Ily’s knuckles and stood. The room didn’t swim like it used to, but it still took effort to walk. “I’m not going any farther than the corridor.”
“We’re going to the roof. You need some fresh air. You haven’t been outside in weeks.”
“When she wakes, then I’ll do whatever you want. Until then, leave me be.”
He narrowed his eyes, then struck into a fast march. “Follow or be carried. Those are your only choices.”
Ah, for fuck’s sake.
Rachel appeared from her room and padded toward me in jeans and a white jumper. “I’ll sit with her.”
I exhaled. “You’ll come get me if—”
“I’ll scream until you come running.” She pressed her hand on my chest before ducking past me into Ily’s room.
“Perfect. Now come along.” Q stalked up the corridor.
I struggled to keep pace with him.
Every step leading me away from Ily felt wrong, unnatural. My entire fucking soul screeched to go back to her. To not let her out of my sight.
But I’d gotten to know my half-brother over the past couple of weeks.
He cared but…that caring had a limit. And when he wanted something…he fucking got it.
Bastard.
We didn’t speak as he led me up a winding staircase and pushed a wooden door with brass hinges that reminded me too much of the battlements in Joyero. My steps faltered. I turned to go back.
Q cleared his throat. “You take one step, and I’ll drag you up here by your hair.”
My gaze snapped to his. “I’m taller than you. Let’s see how that would go.”
“You weigh as much as an emaciated cat. Take me on, Henri, and you’ll see just how much you should’ve been eating when I told you to.”
“You’re such a pain in my ass.”
“I’m happy to stab that ass if you don’t do what I say.”
“Stab me, and I’ll wring your neck.”
“Hurt me, and my wife will hurt you back.”
I sighed and scrubbed my face. “This is stupid. Juvenile.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He chuckled. “Rather amusing actually.”
“You’re acting as if you’re enjoying this.”
His laughter faded. “Can’t say I ever wanted a brother, but…I’m starting to get used to having you around.”
I stilled. I had no idea what to say to that. “What did you want to speak to me about?”
Drawing himself up, he cleared his throat. “Out here.” Stepping onto the roof, he waited for me to join him and shut the door.
My heart pounded a little from the climb up, then skipped with surprise as I made my way to the parapet and studied the grounds beyond. The night I’d come here seeking help, it’d been dark, and I hadn’t seen much apart from the entry and driveway.
And now, I had no desire to go anywhere while Ily remained unconscious, so I hadn’t explored. But standing there as the sun set on yet another day, I couldn’t hide my appreciation.
Patchwork quilts made from daisy meadows and buttercup fields scattered all around us. A mowed airstrip to the west with a windsock and a private plane. A huge stable block beyond, an orchard, another few buildings, and a beautiful black-and-white tiled courtyard below with beanbags and the longest picnic table just waiting for a family barbecue.
Two dogs barked and bolted into the closest meadow, cutting through the wildflowers.
Q sighed beside me, his gaze catching the last fire of the sun. “I used to hate this place. I had dreams of tearing it down. But after I killed him, I made it my own. I used the rooms to help instead of hurt.” Glancing at me, he shrugged. “When you came to visit me last year, you mentioned the depth of your loneliness. I get it. I was so fucking lonely until Tess. I think that’s why I was so hard on you that night. You reminded me far too much of myself, and I know what I was capable of back then, so…I sent you away, and… I’m sorry.”
Resting my hands on the rock wall, I didn’t reply.
There wasn’t much to say.
I appreciated his willingness to share, but all I could think about was returning to Ily.
We stood in silence for a while, my instincts itching to leave.
The sunset might paint the world in flames and hide the shadows where monsters lurked, but I knew the truth. Q knew the truth. And that truth ate at me because I didn’t want to live in a world where darkness could so easily snuff out the light.
If… when …Ily woke. I wanted her to live in a safe world where she would never be hurt again. Where thousands of other innocent people never had to endure what Peter and all the jewels had on that godforsaken island.
Funny how all thoughts of suicide had morphed to murder.
I wanted death.
I wanted to become death.
I want to make them pay.
I want them in pieces.
I want to wring their fucking necks—
“How’s she doing?” Q asked softly, studying my face and no doubt seeing fury bubbling beneath my skin.
In the dusky clouds, the wispy shape of a gemstone appeared. A perfect stone ready to glitter for some sadistic creep. I shook my head as all my festering fears pounced. All those split seconds when Victor haunted my thoughts.
Turning to him, I rolled my arm, my cast growing claustrophobic with healing. “Are you sure Victor’s dead?”
He scowled. “Very. Why?”
“What about the other guests that visited? Have you tracked them down?”
He nodded and fished a cell phone out of his back pocket. Tapping in his key code—in full view to memorise—he navigated through a bunch of files and opened a document, then passed it to me.
Taking it, I scrolled through the list of names.
An endless list of names.
Addresses, phone numbers, even some medical records.
“What’s this column?” I tapped the one to the far right.
“The clubs.” He crossed his arms. “Traffickers and rapists enjoy their smoke-and-dagger shit.” Glancing at the screen, he curled his upper lip. “Roscolo is in Norway. I believe there were thirty members last time we checked. They’re next.”
“Next?”
He smirked. “I made a promise to Tess that I’d never put myself in undue danger, but…I also made a promise to myself to exterminate those who don’t deserve air so… they’re next .”
Whip-hot violence coiled through me.
I was…jealous.
Jealous of whoever delivered the killing blow to those motherfucking bastards who deserved it.
Scanning the file again, I stopped at a number of names with The Jewelry Box listed beside them. “You haven’t killed them all yet?”
“Franco is working on tracking the final few down. Once we’ve marked them all, then we’ll act. Some fled. Some are in hiding now that they’ve heard what happened to Victor. But they’ll pop back up. They always do.”
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he exhaled. “That isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I fisted the phone, my eyes snapping to his at the change in his voice. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Ilyana Sharma.”
I went deathly still. “What about her?”
“The doctor has advised that it might be prudent to…” He sighed and squeezed the back of his neck. “He advised that certain processes should be followed. Just in case.”
My throat closed. “Certain processes ?”
He frowned. “Twenty days is a long time, Henri. It goes without saying, I will continue to do whatever I can to bring her back to you, but…I’m also not such a romantic to believe true love fixes all.”
His phone almost cracked in my hand I fisted so hard. “Would you speak so callously if this was your wife unable to wake?”
“No.” He shrugged. “I’d either be drunk or committing murder.”
“And if she died?”
“I have a child.”
I laughed coldly. “If you expect me to believe that you wouldn’t try to follow her, even with other responsibilities, you’re—”
“I hope for both your sakes that she wakes. I truly do, but—”
“I’m not having this conversation.”
“Shut up and let me finish,” he snapped. “I know how you feel, and I know this is hard but—”
“You don’t know a fucking thing about me!”
“I know you’d probably throw yourself off this roof if it meant you could trade her life for yours.”
“If you know that then it was risky bringing me up here.”
“We needed privacy.”
I crossed my arms, trembling with rage. “I’m going back to her.” Turning on the ball of my foot, I stalked toward the exit. My bare feet ached against the cold stone. My jeans and black hoodie barely kept out the winter’s bite.
“Do they know about you? Do they know what you did? How you were involved?”
I stiffened and turned back to face him. “What are you talking about?”
Stepping toward me, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Ily’s parents. Do they know who you are?”
I glowered at him. “Why?”
“Her parents and brother are flying in tomorrow. I’m sending my plane to collect them.”
I blinked. “You what?”
“I’ve held them off as long as possible. They’ve wanted to visit ever since I called and told them she was safe here. I’ve been honest with them. They know about her condition. But they don’t know where she’s been or what happened.” His eyes darkened. “I figured that was up to her to tell them…”
His unspoken words hovered between us.
If she ever wakes.
A black pit of despair clawed me. “They’re coming to say goodbye?”
“They’re coming to offer support. I’ve been able to keep them satisfied with regular chats with her doctor, and they haven’t pushed the issue as they have a son who doesn’t like to travel. Apparently, he doesn’t do well in society in general. But…” He shrugged and glanced at the last coils of sunlight. “I think it’s for the best that they come. Perhaps hearing their voices will help her wake—”
“You’re doubting how she feels about me? You’re saying she’s staying asleep because I never leave her side?”
Shit, that hurt.
It magnified all my own fears and doubts.
Am I making it worse?
Is she afraid of me?
Perhaps she’d forgotten all the good between us and only remembered the bad. In her dreams, perhaps I was the nightmare, hurting her, abusing her…just like I had at the start.
My heart tried to tear itself free and hurl itself over the parapet.
“No.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m merely saying, they’re her family. And you’re…”
“The guy who strapped her to a cross, bled her, fucked her, and then bragged to you about it on the phone.”
His jaw clenched. “Hence my question. Did she have time to tell them about you? Could she have mentioned your name and where you were taking her?”
I scanned back over our first meeting. The instant punch in my soul as I recognised her as different. The chemistry between us. The intensity. We’d been so fucking wrapped up in each other, but…I hadn’t seen her text or call anyone.
Didn’t mean she didn’t …
“I don’t know.”
“In that case, it might be best if you’re not there when they first arrive.”
“Not possible.”
“Her brother is coming too. That’s why I offered the use of my plane. So her parents can travel with their son and not have the chaos of public transportation disrupting him. I’m unsure how much stimulus he’ll be able to cope with so…I’m asking you on behalf of Ily. Stay out of it when they arrive. And hold your tongue.” He stepped into me. “I mean it, Henri. Three weeks ago, you were ready to die if you lost this girl. I know you have a shit ton of remorse and guilt for what you did, but you cannot use them as a confessional, do you hear me? They must never know what you did to their daughter. You tell them a single thing and you’ll lose her forever.”
Sourness splashed on my tongue.
I looked down at his phone still in my hand. The screen had gone dark, but the lists of rapists and psychopaths burned my palm. Their names seemed to swirl around me, teasing my fury, and making the beast inside me crawl out of its den.
I’d hoped that fucking curse was finished.
That all the pain and torture I’d survived had ensured I would never again want bloodshed, but…standing there—with my brother telling me that I could never be honest and so many lives staining my hands—I had to face facts.
I could never atone.
Could never be free from what I was.
All that bloodlust and anger clotted into a twisty, sickening mass inside me.
I didn’t want to use Ily’s parents as my confessional, but I did need to earn their forgiveness. I needed to earn Peter’s forgiveness. I needed to earn my own forgiveness for being half man, half monster and finally realising… I will never be whole without the other.
I would never raise a finger to Ily again.
But my mouth watered to hurt them . The guests. The Masters. The sinners.
To tear them apart and feast.
“Revenge helps,” Q muttered, following my thoughts. “But you have someone to protect now. You can’t just prosecute those who hurt her without taking precautions.”
“Precautions like you?”
“Yes.”
I sniffed and met his eyes. “Tell me, brother. You say you love your wife.”
His muscles coiled with suspicion. “What’s that got to do—”
“Just answer me.”
“Fine.” He cocked his chin. “Yes. I do.”
“Do you hurt her?”
His nostrils flared. “None of your fucking business.”
“That’s a yes.”
“What we do behind closed—”
“When I first got to that island, I wished I’d asked you how you managed to get married and be normal when you have the same darkness inside you that I do.”
He didn’t speak, watching me carefully.
“How do you do it? How do you stop that darkness from building?” My hands balled. “Because it’s building. Every day that I get stronger, it gets worse. So tell me…how—”
Something crashed in the chateau followed by an ungodly scream. “Henri! Henri !”
Rachel.
No.
Fuck no!
Wrenching open the door, I bolted down the stairs.
My heart pounded; my entire body ached with panic.
I didn’t feel my own weakness, only pure piercing terror.
Q charged after me as I sprinted down the corridor and careened into Ily’s room.
I couldn’t compute.
Couldn’t tolerate that I’d left her.
I’d left her alone, and she’d crashed.
“ILY!” I dashed to her side.
Two doctors stood on either side of her bed. The one closest to me shoved me back. “Stay away. Let us work!” His hands flew, ripping open packets of needles and drugs. He yelled at his colleague. “Give her epinephrine now .”
The other injected something into her vein, then opened a case with wires and paddles. Flicking a few buttons, he tore off the blankets, sliced off Ily’s bandages, and placed the defibrillator against her chest.
My knees threatened to buckle.
Q dragged me back, but I wasn’t aware of him. I couldn’t see or hear anything but her. Her dying in front of me. Her leaving me all over again.
My gaze locked on the stitches directly over her sternum.
A tiny wound with a colourful bruise feathering around it.
A mark from the bullet that killed Peter.
My legs almost gave out a second time as the doctor yelled, “Clear!”
An awful whine followed by a heavy thud.
Ily jerked off the bed, her body rising before falling back down.
Rachel stood in the corner, tears rivering down her cheeks. She wrung her hands. “She was fine. She was fine. And then—” She buried her face into her hands.
I staggered as one of the doctors removed the oxygen tube from beneath Ily’s nose and the other one down her throat. Placing a clear mask over her, one doctor squeezed air into her lungs with every pump of the bellows while the other doctor kept count on his watch.
“ Clear !”
I groaned in fucking misery as they shocked her again.
She fell back. Her arms splayed, head lolled, eyes closed.
“Keep going. Do whatever it takes,” Q snarled. “I’ll get Dr Harl.” He bolted from the room.
And I just stood there.
Sick.
Useless.
Numb.
The doctor pushed air into her, again and again, making her chest rise and fall, rise and fall.
The other counted down the seconds, then pressed the paddles back over her breasts. “Clear!”
Another wallop of electricity.
Another shock just like on Victor’s island.
I-I can’t.
I stumbled backward.
I crashed against the wall.
How many times had I seen her writhing and twitching on the ground, thanks to her collar? How many times had I pressed that godforsaken button and delivered the current myself?
Ah fuck.
My eyes burned.
My terror mutated into something savage and wrong.
I’d hoped I’d done enough to be worthy of her.
I’d hoped I’d be allowed to be happy after so many decades of misery.
But…I hadn’t done enough.
I couldn’t change.
I would never be free from this blackness inside me.
This blackness that’d destroyed her.
That blackness gnashed and gnawed as Ily died right in front of me.
Revenge swirled sickly. Fury and misery, bloodthirst and brutality. It all billowed around my chest, howling through my blood.
I’d caused this.
I was the one who needed to be put down.
The monster inside me shredded all my hopes and dreams. It howled to go after her. To slaughter all those in my way.
Tripping toward the bed, I needed to touch her. Talk to her.
I should never have left.
I should never have gone!
“Ily…”
“ Clear !”
Another shock followed by awful, awful silence.
Then a horrible high-pitched beep filled the room.
A beep that just kept rising and rising. Never changing tone. One long, uninterrupted, excruciating line.
“No!” Rachel charged the bed. “Keep going. She can’t flatline. She can’t! Ily. Ily don’t! We’re here. You’re safe. Come back!”
The doctor closest to Rachel pushed her away. He charged the paddles again but looked at his colleague with grief.
And I knew.
I knew as I bent over and gripped my thighs, unable to breathe.
I knew as that godawful beep kept screaming.
She…she’s gone.
Rachel dropped to her knees and sobbed.
Shouts sounded in the house as Q no doubt tried to find someone to help.
And the final pieces in me cracked and flung open.
The floodgates of hell and damnation.
The maddening darkness that demanded the rest of my soul now I’d lost half of it to Ily.
All my pain fled.
All my sorrow dried up.
Straightening, I nodded and noticed I still fisted my brother’s phone.
It was a sign.
A clue.
I would die.
That was irrefutable.
But I wouldn’t die by my hand.
With gritted teeth, I took one last look at Ily.
Her hair covered her face, her breasts exposed, and chin tipped down.
I recoiled.
I couldn’t see her like that.
So lifeless…so empty.
Without a word, I stalked out of the room.
I felt absolutely nothing as I headed down the corridor, down the steps, and out the front door.
A black Mercedes hummed on the driveway, its door flung wide and motor still running as if another doctor had arrived and flown inside to help.
Slipping Q’s phone into my jeans pocket, I crunched across the gravel.
I climbed into the car.
I shifted it into gear.
And drove away.