Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark) (53 page)

I couldn’t let them take her again. I didn’t care that Franco would never let her out of his sight. He had his orders. If he didn’t find me in time, his loyalty was to her. He would give his life to protect hers—just as he did for me.

Lynx laughed. “You aren’t in the position to tell me what I can and can’t do. You’re going to die, Mercer, but at least you won’t be alone in hell for long. She’ll be joining you soon enough.” The knife pricked my cock again. “Pity for you, you won’t have a dick to use when you see her again.”

“Ne pas la toucher. Vous ne pouvez pas la toucher.”
Don't touch her. You can't touch her.

“Speaking in French doesn’t work on a Spaniard, idiot.” He removed the blade. “Cover him.”

I sucked in gulp of air as the wet towel descended over my face. My heart bucked with terror. I had to warn Franco, Frederick. I had to get Tess to safety. She wouldn’t die because of me. She wouldn’t!

“Begin,” Dante ordered.

The cascade started anew, drowning me with the aid of a simple cloth.

My lungs turned to fire. Seconds flew toward minutes as more and more water cascaded. I forced myself not to suck in the towel, desperate for breath.

Unconsciousness tried to claim me but I fought it. I couldn’t. Tess!

But no matter how hard I held on, my brain shut down, body jerked; I died with every pour.

My life didn’t exist apart from the black water-world. My thoughts scrambled. Tess. Air. Tess. Air.

I wanted both in equal measure. I wanted to run. I wanted to be free.

Tess morphed into being. Her gorgeous blonde curls, her all seeing blue-grey eyes. A halo of light appeared behind her, fading her from view as my heart threw itself toward its last beat.

Tess, run. Please.

Her presence never left me as a wave of heavy water splashed over me. I toppled on the edge, gasping, choking. Lynx overestimated my lung capacity—hurtling me toward death.

The last torrent of liquid was my demise.

Don’t give up. You can’t
. I owed it to Tess to stay alive. I had to protect her. I had to be there for her always.

“Come with me, Q. Let go. It’s better this way.”
The illusion grabbed me by the hands, dragging me forward. I didn’t want to go, but I had no choice.

My body gave up. Suffocated of air it shut down—snipping my life-force free from pain.

The agony faded, inch by inch, ache by ache, until I felt nothing.

Nothing but weightlessness…nothingness.

Sounds faded. The strain in my lungs no longer mattered.

Life tiptoed away from me, taking with it any promise of happiness I might’ve found by marrying my soul-mate.

But my soul-mate wanted me to leave with her. Her golden hand outstretched, glowing with welcome light. She wanted me to leave this black cold place.

I could be with her forever.

I want to be with you forever,
esclave.

“Then let go. I’m waiting.”

I didn’t think why she appeared when she was living not dead. I didn’t stop to ponder how she found me. All I knew was what I wanted. And I wanted her.

I let go. I went to her. I obeyed my
esclave.

Dying was such a simple thing.

I felt no guilt, no terror, no worries. Only acceptance for something I couldn’t change.

Darkness came for me.

My golden girl stuttered out.

The light she’d teased me was gone.

The sun turned to an eclipse and…I fell. Like an unwanted star I fell from the promise of heaven and plummeted to where I belonged.

Falling, falling.

Falling.

I fell straight into hell.

Matching darkness, mirroring light, truth and love we took flight,

one
esclave
and one
maître
, no longer captive or thief, just perfect certainty and belief

F
ranco’s phone rang.

I froze. Instincts screamed, slicing sharp fingernails of panic down the chalkboard of my spine.

The car turned from saviour, rushing us to Q’s aid, to a decaying coffin.

“Don’t—”

Franco glanced over, his vivid eyes dulling with horror. “I have no choice.” Shoving his uninjured hand into his trouser pocket, he pulled out the chiming doom.

Don’t let it be. Don’t.

We were almost there. The plane ride had driven me crazy—I would’ve sold my heart to be teleported or
something
to get us there faster.
We’re so close!

It won’t be. It can’t be
.

I couldn’t breathe as Franco held the phone to his ear. His face went deadly white. Not uttering a word, he passed the cell to me.

My fingers turned to ice-cubes; all I wanted to do was hurl the phone from the car window, smashing the bad news before it could be made real.

It’s not true.

He’s fine.

The phone was a vulture stealing my happiness as I placed it to my ear.  

“Tess?” Frederick’s voice echoed all the way from Paris.

My heart went from beating to nothing. His tone said all I needed to know. I couldn’t move. Locked in my chair, I became a statue of grief.

Frederick sucked in a shaky breath. “You there? Tess?”

I knew.

I knew why he called. It didn’t matter we were ten minutes away. It didn’t matter we had an army behind us. It didn’t fucking matter. None of it.

Because my
maître
was gone.

I’d felt it.

An empty hollowness inside—gaping wide,
cavernous.

“Don’t, Frederick.”

A long pause. No one spoke, breathed, lived. The world shut down forever.

“I’m so sorry, Tess…the frequency. It stopped.”

My heart replicated his words—turning from living to stone. The dawn on the horizon mocked me with a new beginning when I no longer had one.

My finger went to the reject button, cutting the call just as Frederick whispered, “He’s dead.”

He’s dead.

He’s gone.

He left without me.

Very slowly with infinite control, I passed the phone to Franco. He took it, brushing his fingers with mine. “Tess…”

I recoiled. I didn’t want anyone touching me. No one.
Never
again. Loving was a weakness. Touch was an annihilation. Q had destroyed me.

He’s gone.

The words pierced my heart with a thousand needles, puncturing my soul.
He’s gone.

Everything inside—all the goodness, happiness, hopefulness…
everything
shrivelled up. My will to live turned to black ash, sifting from my pours like dirty rain. Everything I’d been through. It’d all been pointless.

He fucking left me.

Bastard.

Anger was better than grief. It filled the cavernous hole, giving me something to latch onto.

The toll had taken its final debt. In return for Q’s fortune, I’d been taxed too high. I’d been turned into a destitute widow.

 
He’s dead.

“Tess, it’s—” Franco gathered me in his arms, tugging me into his muscular bulk. I wanted to attack him. I couldn’t control the rapidly heating, freezing, churning, storm gathering inside.

I was sad. Then angry. Then weak. Then
furious.

Shoving Franco away, I snarled, “Don’t touch me.”

The streetlights clicked off, giving way to the watery pink light of a new day. A new day without Q. A lifetime without Q.

Franco pulled something from his pocket. He smoothed the paper, holding it out. “He made me promise to give you this if…”

My body stiffened.

“If what? He thought he’d die? He
planned
for his death?”

Why did he make you sign the will?Everything—it’s all yours
. He’d bequeathed everything to me. And he’d done it so fast…almost as if he operated against time.

I stole the letter. Tearing it open, I swallowed bubbles of rageful tears.

Tess,

If you’re reading this, then I guess…well, I don’t need to put it into words. You know what’s happened. Please don’t hate me. I didn’t leave you willingly. I know I have no right to ask this of you—but you can’t undo my hard work. Promise me you’ll keep living,
esclave
. Promise me you’ll stay alive. Franco knows what to do. Frederick will walk you through the future plans when you’re ready.

There really isn’t much else to say. I love you so fucking much. Never forget that. Never forget the connection we shared, or the knowledge I’m waiting for you. Somewhere.

Je suis à toi—

I scrunched the letter up, throwing it on the floor in a fit of temper. There was more. More promises. More requests. More declarations of undying devotions.

But I couldn’t read anymore. Lies. All of it.

Q had
left
me. He had no rights to me anymore. He had no right to make me promise not to enter my tower. He had no fucking right to ask me to continue living without him. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
I can’t.

It’s not over.

My eyes narrowed, staring dry and tearless at the passing view. Q was dead. I’d paid my unpayable debt and now I wanted interest. I wanted what they’d stolen from me. I wanted a life for a life.

My anger filled the car interior with swirling silver rage. “I want to make them pay. I want to give them everything they deserve.”

I’m going to show them how it feels to die slowly. How it feels to be soulless.

Franco took a while to reply, picking up Q’s letter and placing it on the seat beside us. The presence of Q’s penmanship and final thoughts took up space—filling the vehicle with his merciless love. He’d taken
everything
from me. My heart. My mind. My soul.

I would never forgive him for that.

“We’ll make them pay,” he muttered. “You have my word.”

My mind stained red. All the fight inside to remain good and pure disappeared. I threw myself headfirst into blackness. I accepted my life had changed forever. I had no intention of staying alive without him.

I would follow Q. It was the only option. Die or live an eternity locked in a tower unfeeling. I couldn’t survive this unsurmountable grief. I couldn’t let it consume me because if I did I would be washed away forever.

I had work to do before I died.

I had vengeance to deliver.

Violence. Blood. Screams. I wanted it all. I would make Q proud. I would avenge him.

You stole him from me.

You stole any chance of a happy life.

I was beyond angry. I was catatonic with rage. Tears had no place in the black void I existed in. Only greed—greed for killing. I would steal more than their lives in return.

I would steal their murderous souls.

Our convoy of killers gathered ranks outside the high hedges ringing the hellhole where my
maître
had died.

It didn’t matter the sun sparkled, turning the world into a better place. All I saw was darkness. All I lived was darkness. All I wanted was death.

He’s gone. But I’m going to join him.

Franco shattered my single-mindedness, dragging me back to an existence I no longer wanted to live.

Grabbing my hand, he forcibly curled my fingers around a gun. Squeezing me hard, his face shone with ruthlessness and pain. His injuries drained him, but he survived on bloodlust—same as me.

“Promise me, whatever happens in there. You come out alive. Don’t be reckless. He wouldn’t want that.”

I promise to be reckless. I promise to ignore everything Q wants because he left me.

Q was gone. There would be no wedding. There would be no happiness.

Why would I agree to survive in a Q-less world?