Chapter 11
ELLIE
Beckett met us at the address Aria gave us—an address we forwarded to Landon, Ryker, and my uncle Raymond.
It all proved to be a moot point, though, when the four of us were loaded into a separate car after being thoroughly searched by armed guards.
They found the trackers we’ve kept hidden.
Destroyed them.
Destroyed our phones.
Now, I’ll have no way of contacting my other guys, of telling them we’re okay. I just have to hope that they play this smart. That they don’t reveal their hand too early.
“I’m so bloody grateful you’re okay,” Beckett breathes against my hair. The two of us sit huddled in the back of a nondescript SUV, Dom and Zane in the middle seats.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, stroking his arm. “We’re all fine.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Zane pipes in, swiveling around to face us. Moonlight gilds half of his face, making his white teeth glisten with his deranged smile. “We’re heading toward an undisclosed location with a psychopathic bitch and her henchmen who I’ve deemed as Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber.”
“You certainly have charming taste in men,” Aria drawls from the front seat, where she sits beside one of said henchmen.
Like before, she’s chosen to forgo her mask, her beautiful face tilted upward, as if she’s bathing in the moonlight.
The color reflects on her golden hair, so unlike my own mousy brown curls.
“At least I don’t have to rape the men in my life,” I retort angrily.
Aria laughs, though the noise is devoid of any true humor. “Oh, honey. It’s not rape if they’re screaming for more.”
I bite down on my lower lip hard enough to taste blood, trying not to say anything that will get us in trouble.
But seriously, fuck her.
We take a bunch of back roads and weird turns. I realize, after a while, it’s because Aria wants to make sure we aren’t being followed.
I wouldn’t put it past my guys to try something like that.
Landon and Ryker…
Pain pinches my heart, and I feel a strange burn crowd my eyes.
I already miss them terribly. I can’t imagine what they’re going through, what they’re thinking. If the situations were reversed, if they were going off to who the hell knows where with a serial killer, I would do everything within my power to free them. Save them. Hide them away.
But no. They wouldn’t do anything that reckless, right? They have to realize that our best course of action is continuing to allow Aria to believe they’re dead.
Then, abruptly, the road ends.
Nestled beneath the gentle sway of old oak branches is a bungalow, sat like a secret someone once whispered into the earth and then promptly forgot about.
Its low, sloping roof, dappled with moss and moonlight, gives the house a sense of being cradled by the land rather than being built upon it.
Weathered cedar shingles line the exterior, their silvery-gray hue soft against the vibrant greens of the surrounding garden, where lavender and what appears to be rosemary grow wild around a cobblestone path.
The front porch, wrapped in peeling white railings, is wide and welcoming, covered in rocking chairs and bench swings.
I spot at least a dozen guards lining the perimeter—the majority of them congregated in a tiny guard tower at the bottom of the driveway, with a few milling near the edge of the forest, as if their job is to patrol that specific area.
“Welcome to my home.” Aria’s voice holds a hint of whispered reverence as the car slows to a stop.
“Why did I expect your evil bitch of a mom to live in a creepy, Gothic mansion in the middle of nowhere?” Zane asks me, making sure to keep his voice high enough for said evil bitch of a mom to overhear.
“You got the ‘middle of nowhere’ part right,” Dom quips, pushing open the door. Zane pops out after him, then both men pull the seat down for Beckett and me to climb out.
“She probably has dead bodies buried beneath her flower garden,” Beckett says.
“In the backyard, actually,” Aria trills, moving toward the front door. “Now, come inside.”
I exchange an uneasy glance with my guys before following Aria up the front steps, the wood creaking ominously beneath our combined weight.
Zane and Beckett stand on either side of me, creating a protective barricade against me and the outside world, while Dominic remains at my back. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat of his body.
“Welcome home, my daughter.” Aria pushes open the front door and steps to the side, allowing me the first glimpse of my newest prison.
The living room glows with light from candles lit at sporadic spots around the house.
Wooden beams cross the ceiling like the arms of a watchful guardian, and the stone fireplace, blackened from years of use, exhales the faint scent of smoke and pine.
A mismatched assortment of armchairs and thick, knitted throws makes the room appear almost…
welcoming. Moonlight pools through gauzy curtains, dancing on shelves filled with old books, hand-thrown pottery, and tiny trinkets that I can’t even begin to imagine their purpose.
In the middle of the room, pacing back and forth, is my older brother, Fischer.
Seeing him is a punch to the gut. I physically have to stumble back a few steps, my head reeling and my heart racing.
“Fischer?” Surprise raises my voice a dozen octaves, turning it high-pitched and squeaky.
Fischer immediately stops pacing and turns toward us. His eyes widen. “Ellie?”
I don’t think, just act.
With a strangled sound catching in my throat, I race forward and throw myself at my older brother. My guys try to stop me, but it’s useless. I need my brother.
Fischer’s arms immediately, instinctively, come up to hold me to him. A tremble reverberates through his body.
“Fuck, Ellie. What are you doing here? Why are you…?” He tenses. Then, in a voice dripping with vitriol, he hisses out, “Aria. What the fuck were you thinking?”
“Is that any way to talk to your mother, son?” Aria asks, a mocking lilt to her voice that instantly makes my hackles raise.
Fischer abruptly releases me and shoves me behind him, protecting me with his body as he faces off with our birth mother.
“I did everything you asked of me,” he hisses, a vein in his temple throbbing. “You promised me you would keep her out of this. You fucking promised me.”
Aria tsks her tongue disapprovingly. “And have you kept your end of the deal? Have you participated in all the fantastic events the Paragons of Prosperity has to offer?” Her upper lip curls away from her teeth, which are slightly sharper than normal.
“No? Of course not. You think you’re too good for all of that.
Too good for us. I wonder if you’ll still feel this way at our next event, knowing what’s at stake.
” Very purposefully, her eyes slide to me, the threat in them evident.
Fischer trembles. “You’re a conniving, evil bitch.”
“Of course I am.” Her smile grows. “That’s what makes me a good leader. Now, we can discuss this all later. Let me show Ellie and her boy toys their room.”
Fischer bristles. “Boy toys?” He seems to suddenly notice Dom, Beckett, and Zane for the first time, his eyes narrowing. “What are you guys doing here?”
“We heard Aria has good tea,” Zane quips.
“Yes,” Dominic deadpans. “We wanted a tea party.”
Fischer takes a single step forward, his hand raised, his pointer finger trembling. “How could you have let Ellie come here? What the fuck were you thinking? You guys were supposed to protect her! How could you—?”
I’ve heard e-fucking-nough.
Grabbing a fistful of Fischer’s sweater, I tug, forcing him to whirl around to face me.
“Don’t fucking do that,” I warn him, and he blinks at my change of tone—so unlike the Ellie he abandoned months ago.
“You have no idea what I’ve been through the last few months.
What we have been through. Landon and Ryker are dead.
Did you know that? The men I love are dead.
And I know…I know you were trying to protect me.
I get that now, I think. But you left me.
You abandoned me for months! I had no idea if you were dead or alive!
I didn’t know anything, Fischer, because you didn’t tell me jack shit.
You left me alone to fend off Aria and POP and creepy predators.
So get off your high horse, calm the fuck down, and apologize to my guys.
They did everything in their power to protect me.
Even now, they’re here, in the belly of the beast, to protect me.
They could’ve left me—just like you did—but they chose to stay.
” I’m trembling by the time I finish my dogmatic speech, tears pricking my eyes. “They’ll always choose to stay.”
“Always,” Dom vows.
“Forever,” Beckett agrees.
Zane simply says, “I’m just here for the tea party.”
Fuck, I love them so much.
Fischer seems at a loss for words. His mouth opens and shuts repeatedly, but no sound escapes him.
After a moment, he nods once, his eyes searching my face, as if he’s trying to reconcile this new Ellie with the one he left behind.
Eventually, he forces his gaze on the others and says, “I’m sorry.
I…I didn’t know. I’m so, so sorry about Landon and Ryker. ”
My guys remain silent, but I can sense their tension saturating the air, the way it prickles and sings like a live electric wire.
“How…sweet,” Aria coos.
I whirl on her. “And if you ever threaten my men again, I will cut you up into tiny pieces, fuck the consequences. Do you understand me?”
Her eyes shimmer with an indecipherable emotion. “Duly noted.”
“Now let’s go see our fucking room.”
Our “fucking room” is surprisingly large, given the size of the house.
Moonlight spills in through tall windows draped in blackout curtains, currently pulled to the side.
The ceilings arch high above, painted a pale cream that catches the light and makes the room feel almost cathedral-like.
At the center stands a grand four-poster bed, its dark wooden frame rich with intricate carvings, each post crowned with finials that reach upward like sentinels.
The bed itself is dressed in layers of linen and velvet, all in muted tones—soft gray, faded blues, and the occasional deep green.
A thick rug sprawls beneath it, patterned with flowers.
Bookshelves take up the entirety of one wall, each shelf bowed slightly under the weight of old volumes, their spines worn smooth by use.
Nearby, a pair of armchairs flank a low table by the fireplace, where a few embers still glow.
The scent of woodsmoke lingers, mixing with the cool freshness of nighttime air.
In the corner, a writing desk stands beneath a tall window, its surface tidy but obviously lived-in—papers neatly stacked, a fountain pen resting atop an open notebook, and a porcelain cup still half-full with what appears to be tea.
Along the opposite wall, a wide armoire looms, its doors slightly ajar to reveal the edge of a hanging coat and a glimpse of folded sweaters in muted wool.
“Whose room is this?” Zane asks, obviously picking up on the same thing I have—that this bedroom belongs to someone.
“Yours, silly,” Aria says.
“Has Fischer been staying here?”
Fischer, who stands behind us all in the hallway, says, “No. I sleep on the opposite side of the house.”
“It doesn’t matter who once stayed here.” Aria waves a hand in the air dismissively. “What matters is that this room now belongs to you. Anything you need, I’ll provide. Just let me know.”
I exchange glances with my guys, one after the other.
What is she hiding?
Whose room is this?
I feel incredibly uneasy, like there’s someone hiding beneath the bed or sleeping in the armoire. I make a mental note to check all the hiding places before we get settled.
“There’s a bathroom here,” Aria continues, pointing toward a doorway opposite the one we’re standing in.
“It should have toiletries and fresh towels already, but let me know if you need more.” A wide smile spreads across Aria’s face, and before I can react, she pulls me into a hug.
My men immediately step forward, tense and alert, but Aria releases me before they can do anything.
“We’re finally going to be a family,” she tells me, tenderly brushing at a strand of my brown hair.
I shudder in revulsion.
“I’ll let you four get settled in. Please let me know if the bed is big enough. I imagine you like group…activities,” she says, winking.
Fischer begins to dry heave from behind me.
And honestly? I can’t blame him.
“I’ll send some people to the store to collect some items for you all.
Anything in particular you want?” She glances first at my face, then Dom’s, then Beckett’s, before finally settling her impassive gaze on Zane’s.
None of us answer her. “No? Okay. I’ll tell them to just grab some clothes and whatever else they deem is important. ”
Then, without another word, Aria leaves the room, slamming the door behind her.
And my next prison sentence begins.