Chapter 20
Arcane
“Move it, bitch,” the voice behind me snarls, anger lacing his words as I turn to face the unknown woman.
Our eyes meet, and despite the impending doom approaching us, her gaze is comforting. We’re being punished—I sense it down to my core as we’re led out of the desolate basement room and into an unfamiliar blacksmith’s shop, still inside the manor. The woman visibly swallows, her face gradually paling as if she’s faced this ordeal before.
Tragedy hangs in the air, polluting it with its presence.
“Is it time to babysit us?” I snap at the associate leading us into the room, where two men await.
I try to struggle against his hold but, fuck, he’s much taller than I am, his strength overpowering my weakened body. With only one glass of water a day and enough food to keep me alive, I’ve been left starving for seven days.
The boundaries between reality and an illusion have started blurring together into a maddening haze, making me spiral into an abyss that seems endless. I guess that is what dehydration does to you—leaving you unable to think clearly, wallowing in your despair.
The walls I so carefully constructed around my soul over the past few years are gradually crumbling, revealing only the shell of who I am in the depths of this agony. I once believed everything would be okay again when the Valentis took me in and protected me like one of their own. I never thought they would be the ones to betray me, using me as leverage for power. Did my friendship with Alec mean nothing to him? I’m such a fool for ever trusting someone again.
I can do nothing when the man hooks the woman to the ceiling, her arms bound high, forcing her onto her tiptoes. Her eyes are vacant as if she tuned out reality and finds herself in a nonexistent world within her mind.
“I said, move it,” the voice commands, shoving me until I tumble to the floor inside the blacksmith’s chamber, knees thudding painfully against the surface.
I grit my teeth, anger boiling within me in waves, but I can’t do anything with the three men inside the room, staring at me like predators closing in on their prey.
I look over at the woman, trying to find answers in her gaze, but she’s unresponsive—slowly blinking, breathing, hinting that she’s alive. But she’s not here mentally. Fuck this.
The room is unlike any I’ve seen, intimidating with a forge and anvil in the middle, flanked by rows of tools and shelves. Stone walls enclose us, with a fireplace right beside the forge, casting shadows across the walls. A stone desk adorned with shackles sends my heart racing. What kind of place is this?
Beside the desk stands Peter Grimaldi, his posture relaxed yet authoritative, though he eyes the woman with equal parts lust and disgust. It sends shivers down my spine.
I wish I could end their pathetic lives like I killed their associate, but I have to bide my time, find the right moment to end their lives once and for all.
My knees go weak underneath me as I struggle to keep my balance when the two Grimaldi made men hoist me up, and it’s not long before I’m guided toward the office desk. They force my chest down, their grip tightening around my arms.
I clench my fists, snarling at the men like a cornered beast, my muscles straining to get free yet knowing it’s fucking pointless.
“Honestly, it was a mere coincidence you ended up with the Valentis. Didn’t know about it until a year ago when they contacted me, wanting to make a business deal. You in exchange for territory and power,” he spits out, venom dripping from his words.
“Where’s Mom?” I ask him, interrupting him midway.
He clenches his fists out of frustration, grunting at me before saying with indifference, “I killed her.”
Doesn’t surprise me at all. She always was a weak fucker, never standing up for her foster children or herself. She tried so hard to fit into this criminal world, but you have to be a predator yourself to be able to live with one.
From the corner of my eye, I see the woman’s interest pique, head tilting to the side as if tuning in on the conversation. It strikes me how little I know about her.
“After Kaiden died, you were worth nothing anymore. A pathetic, used slut. Don’t you think I found out about the two of you? How you spread your legs for your brother like a whore? I could have gained so much from your virginity, but you just had to fuck your own brother.”
His tirade thunders throughout the room, and I stare at him in disbelief. The rage is palpable in his tense muscles as if he’s on the verge of exploding. Veins bulge in his temples, his face contorted into a mask of fury as his eyes burn with an intensity full of malice.
Meanwhile, my heart constricts with pain at hearing his words, like being hit by a train coming at full speed. Years of unanswered questions about why they threw me out finally gain clarity, and the truth cuts like knives into my chest. He meant to sell my body and my virginity. The mere thought makes me physically sick.
The mention of Kaiden’s death makes that knife twist deeper, mingled with a sense of relief at the realization that Peter doesn’t know about his survival.
A hidden smile hints on my lips that I quickly conceal when he scowls at me, a murderous glint in his eye. “I will mark you until there’s nothing left of you to love. You were once beautiful, worth a fortune, but you won’t be for much longer.”
The woman closes her eyes, unnoticed by the other men, as she flinches slightly. I’m sure she’s suffered through something like this during her month here, and she probably knows what’s coming.
Peter turns around, retrieving an iron poker and thrusting it into the flames of the forge. He strikes the metal with the hammer, causing sparks to fly which reveals the heat of the glowing metal.
Panic grips me in its icy embrace when I intensify my struggles, but the two men overpower me, forcing me to be still as my foster father approaches with the searing iron poker, holding it so close to my face that sweat starts beading on my forehead.
“Stop!” I command, but my protests fall on deaf ears.
I instinctively lean away, but one of the men pushes my head closer to my father.
“This is going to hurt,” he says while his lips stretch into a cruel smirk.
Then, a white-hot pain streaks across my cheek as he brands me with the heated iron. A primal scream rips from my throat at the agonizing brutality, tears gathering in my eyes that I refuse to let fall.
The pain is excruciating, burning and sizzling my flesh until my throat turns hoarse from the force of how loud I scream. The men chuckle sadistically, finding amusement in my misery. I’m on the brink of unconsciousness, my eyes drifting close as I desperately try to escape the unbearable reality.
This is where I die. At the hands of the man who once vowed to destroy my life when he realized I was useless. My heart caves in as I realize he’s not only marked my soul but has now left a permanent scar on my skin, which will serve as a reminder of the man who ruined me.
The agony is so brutal that it threatens to consume me entirely, making me forget everything around me—the men, the woman, even the blacksmith’s chamber. Minutes drag on in which I can’t feel anything, lost in a fog of oblivion where only pain exists. Through the haze, I imagine hearing someone shout for me—Viper. But it’s impossible. He can’t be here, he will never find me, and I will never get the chance to tell him how much I hate and love him simultaneously—an obsession born from the depths of my shattered heart.
A hand muffles my cries, and I’m choking on air, fighting to breathe and scream, but everything blurs together as fatigue overwhelms me. I hear a whisper through the fog, so quiet I can barely make out what it is.
“Arcane.”
Looking up, I find the image of a dangerously alluring man who once stole my heart years ago, never to return it. He stands in all his glory, a beacon of light in the darkness that slowly seeps into my soul. I know this is nothing more than an illusion.
There’s no one left to save me now.
Blackness seeps into the edges of my vision, and a distant voice echoes in my ears, sounding like his voice. But it’s too late. I’m lifted into someone’s arms, pain and despair swirling within me, nausea churning as searing agony spreads through my cheek.
“Arcane, look at me,” the voice pleads, but I resist, unwilling to face the harsh reality.
I don’t want to see the destruction of what the Grimaldi men did to me—the scar they gave me. I certainly don’t want to meet the eyes of the woman and see the pity in them, knowing I won’t be able to handle it.
The dark, husky voice repeats itself, forcing me back to reality as someone’s hand clamps around my throat. The touch is achingly familiar, causing a hurricane of emotions to surge within me. I force my eyes open and find myself staring into his—Viper’s—eyes.
This time, he’s not wearing a helmet or mask, showing his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and serious eyes. A subtle hint of worry lingers in his gaze beneath the expression of indifference, even though I know his true emotions that he’s too terrified to show lurk just below the surface.
“Viper,” I whisper, my voice barely audible amidst the chaos of my emotions.
The pain intensifies, but I summon the strength to meet his gaze, realizing that it’s truly him and not a phantom of my imagination. Tears well in my eyes, and I despise feeling so vulnerable, but I’m so goddamn tired.
“You found me,” I manage to stutter, voice quivering. I had my doubts that I’d never be found.
“I promised that I would always find you,” he says, but his eyes harden when he looks at me, jaw clenching, a glint of something darker replacing the comfort. “What did they do to you?”
I’m unable to feel the weight of his gaze, so I turn away from him, hiding the ugly mark that mars my skin. Humiliation takes over rational thinking.
His finger hooks under my chin, wanting me to face him. With his other hand, he clamps his fingers around my throat, compelling me to meet his gaze. In those brown orbs, I feel lost and found all at once.
“Never hide from me, my devangel. This makes you no less beautiful. You’re fucking stunning,” he growls out with a possessive edge to his words, sending delicious tremors down my spine. Especially with how his hand tightens around my throat. “And you’re still fucking mine.”
With a solemn sigh, I want to avert my gaze from Viper again, overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare. But he refuses to let me escape—he has never truly allowed me to let go. My heart squeezes in my chest, torn between the fear of the unknown and future, and the strange sense of reassurance I feel at having him here.
I used to despise him for leaving me, for abandoning me in a man-made world while fighting to survive myself. But I’ve found that there’s nowhere else I would rather be than with him, in whatever fucked-up state of mind he comes with—my fucking executor, my torturer, and my obsession.
In his eyes, I see flickers of flames and desire, revealing there’s no escaping him, nor has there ever been. Even when he wasn’t physically present, he was always there—watching over me, protecting me from the shadows, teasing and taunting me. He may lack the ability to feel emotions like others do—something I noticed when we were children—but he cares in his own fucked-up way.
His eyes convey all the things words alone cannot, binding me to him in ways I can’t even begin to comprehend. He was the monstrous grave that shattered everything I once thought I was, yet since his return as Viper, he has been the force molding me into a stronger person who’s no longer afraid of the world.
The muffled sounds around us shatter the moment, pulling me back to reality. Viper’s gaze turns lethal as he glances over my shoulder, his eyes shifting to the men emerging from the shadows, armed and clad in uniform. I recognize them all from the meeting between the Garcías and the Valentis, the one I initially wasn’t invited to. Among them, Peter Grimaldi kneels, bound and subdued by two imposing figures, while his closest men lie dead on the floor.
The unknown woman still hangs from the ceiling, her eyes meeting mine with a scrutiny I cannot place. She assesses me before casting a glare of distrust at Viper.
“Someone take her down,” I demand, my tone sharp as I lock eyes with Viper.
A burly man dressed in a snug uniform grunts in response before swiftly cutting down the chains that bind her. She falls to the floor with a dull thud that resonates in the tense atmosphere.
“Asshole,” she mutters, and I can’t help but smile at her.
There’s something so unknown about her—she exudes mystery and loyalty, her presence commanding respect. I can’t help but wonder where she comes from, but she hasn’t revealed anything. She stands up, surveying the room with a stance suggesting she’s ready to fight, an aura of distrust emanating from her. Her eyes eventually settle on mine, and I nod in acknowledgment.
“They’re with me.”
With a curt nod, she steps closer, leaning in to whisper something meant only for my ears.
“I’m Maven. Thank you,” she murmurs, her gaze softening as she squeezes my shoulder—a gesture that speaks more than words.
Then, without another word, she’s out of the manor, with no one stopping her as she leaves behind an air of mystery.
Confusion clouds my mind as I turn back to Viper. “How?” I manage to stutter, having a hard time understanding the turn of events, especially in the haze I’m still in.
He doesn’t ask about the woman—I know he doesn’t care what happens to her, so I rephrase my question. “How did you get here?”
Viper’s lips curl into a cruel smirk, a mischievous glint swirling in his eyes. “They underestimated me.” He chuckles darkly. “They let me go the moment they took you, not realizing who I was. I’ve been gathering all the Garcías to get you out of here. I’m sorry it took so long.”
He pauses, hinting at his men to leave the room and give us privacy before ensuring I stare straight into his penetrating eyes.
“Understand, darling devil, that I’ve sought vengeance for us, for the childhood that was stolen from us. I’ve bided my time, waiting for you to fully embrace yourself, while rallying every García I could to help me. It’s the only positive thing about being forced to take over.” He sighs. “It’s too bad that the opportunity arose after he’d already inflicted so much harm upon you.” A hint of regret crosses his eyes. “We haven’t been able to strike back before, but after you and the Valentis destroyed their weaponry that day, the Grimaldis were left vulnerable, distracted. They didn’t even know we were coming.”
A surge of emotions I can’t put into words comes over me. Despite his usual detachment and lack of empathy for others, there’s a part of him that’s always cared about me.
“And the Valentis?” I ask, my voice betraying my emotions.
“Alec and his father are back at our home,” he says, making sure to emphasize the word ‘our’ with a wink. “They’re my gift to you, devil.”
Despite the chaos and turmoil around us, a small smile tugs at the corners of my lips, revenge burning in my heart against those who have wronged me. This time, it’s not Viper—it’s the Valentis and the Grimaldis.
Viper’s gaze shifts to our father on his knees behind us, his eyes glinting with a deadly intensity as he steps forward, fully revealing himself. I observe how our father’s face drains of color, stuttering out incoherent words while seemingly pleading for his life.
“Hello, Daddy,” Viper utters, tilting his head ever so slightly.
At that moment, despite the gravity of the situation, I can’t help but notice how fucking hot Viper looks all murderous. Every line of his face is sharp, accentuated by the flickering shadows cast by the forge. Strands of his light hair fall across his forehead, tousled, adding to his rugged allure, and sweat glistens on his temples, revealing he fought his way inside the Grimaldi mansion.
Viper takes a step toward our father, a knife now in his hand, who stares at him with desperation and fear, pleading for his life, but he won’t get any mercy at all. I witness Viper unleash all the pent-up rage and anguish from years of abuse, each strike of the knife in his hand a symbol of freedom.
“This is for Arcane,” he declares, plunging the blade into our foster father’s stomach, making him cry out in pain like a pathetic human being. “For how badly you treated her. For abandoning her when I was gone.” Another slash, and the knife sinks into his leg. I observe his widened eyes, face paling further. “And this?” Viper’s lips curl into a cruel smirk as he traces our father’s throat, merely trailing it with the blade of the knife delicately above the fragile skin. “This is for me. For all the years of neglect and abuse at your hands.” With a swift motion, he slices from left ear to right.
Blood splatters around the room, painting a vivid picture of our newfound freedom from the clutches of the Grimaldis.
When all is said and done, Viper looks at me, beautifully marked with blood, panting and heaving. Yet, a sense of tranquility comes over him, evident in how his shoulders visibly relax.
“Let’s get out of here,” I mumble, tired of the horrors staining the walls of this damned manor, permeated with memories of tragedy and betrayal.
He looks at me, brushing streaks of blond hair from his eye and managing to smear the blood on his forehead. “What about the drive? The underbelly?” he asks, searching my eyes for answers.
“Fuck that. Fuck them all. They can go to ruins, for all I care,” I mutter, feeling the truth lacing my words.
It’s true. I no longer give a fuck about the truce in this city. Penumbra Crest is tainted with blood and war, a place where people betray each other, and loyalties are scarce. And the people left? I couldn’t care less if they died.
I stopped caring long ago when the thought of revenge took over all occupying thoughts.
“Let’s start with ruining the Valentis,” Viper looks at me with a glint of mischief in his eyes before turning to kiss me.
It’s brutal, raw, and all the things that determine our relationship. Ours has never been a romance of candlelit dinners, gentle and passionate intimate moments. It’s the kind that delves into the deeper edges, where our souls call to each other ’ s darkness in ways no one would ever understand. The kiss carries poison, cloaked in sweetness to lure prey in before devouring, shared amidst the chaos of emotions and bloodshed.
Destruction looms over us, but oh , it has never felt more bittersweet.