Denouement (The Darkness Series Book 3) (25 page)

When he was finished, he took the box of matches from his pocket and pulled one out, striking the flame. He looked in the window of the diner, noting the elderly woman at the cash register and the few patrons scattered throughout the establishment. He wondered briefly who his victims would be and wished he had more time to play a game of x’s and o’s. He sighed and dropped the match behind him as he backed away, enjoyment spreading through him as he watched the flame grow. Mila may have knocked him down a peg or two, but she’d never be able to take the power of the flame from him. Now to sit back and watch the entertainment.

“I
f you don’t
give me something plausible right this fucking second, I’m going splatter what’s left of your worthless existence all over this wall.” Brady had a gun to Mila’s head. Gwyn had been missing a week. A week that he wasn’t in Durham Heights looking for her himself because he was trapped in Stockton Crossing playing Mila’s fucking game.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered. “If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when I first contacted you and told you where I was. You don’t have the balls to shoot me, Brady. And you don’t want to.”

He gripped her hair and flipped the safety off. “Don’t fucking test me. Remember, no one knows I’m here. No one knows
you’re
here. I can kill you sixteen different ways and no one will fucking care. So you tell me, do you think I have the balls, Mila?”

Mila paled and for the first time, her composure faltered. Just when he thought that she would spill the information, her cool mask slipped back down.

“Fine. I’ll tell you where Lawrence is holding Gwyn. But it comes at a high price. You need to make a choice, Brady. I can either tell you who’s responsible for these murders, or I can tell you where to find Gwyn. So you tell me,” she spat his words back at him. “What’s more important here, Brady? Your little waitress or the potential innocent lives lost if you can’t find him in time?”

*     *     *

Gwyn opened her
one good eye and groaned. Her right eye was still swollen shut, her punishment for asking for a second glass of water. Being away from Lawrence for so long, she’d forgotten his rules. It’d been a week from hell, trapped with him in the basement of some house. She knew she was still in Durham Heights as he’d had her do the driving on the day he dragged her from the home she shared with Brady. Each day, he got more violent and more out of control. There wasn’t a part of her body that wasn’t black or blue from bruises.

Her arm was broken, but so far, that was the only limb. He fluctuated between allowing her to have a sling to alleviate some of the pain and ripping it off when he was in a temper. As she looked around the large basement, the last thing she remembered was him burning holes in the skin of her bare legs with the end of his cigarette. It was a game he’d loved to play before and she still carried several small white scars from those past beatings.

She heard him coming and quickly rolled over on the air mattress that had served as her bed for the past several nights. Not that she’d had much sleep, but at least he hadn’t made her lay on the cold, concrete floor.

“I know you’re not sleeping. Get the fuck up, Gwyn,” he ordered. She didn’t want to obey, she wanted to fight and be strong and tell him that she wasn’t his to control anymore. But her body couldn’t take it. He’d taken the bat to her legs the previous night. Beat her with it so severely that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand. He grabbed her hair and tugged. “I said get up!”

She rolled again until she hit the floor barely even feeling the jarring sensation. She made it to her knees and then just couldn’t push herself up. He’d fed her the bare minimum and gave her even less to drink. With the beatings, her body was simply starting to shut down. She had no energy left to fight; she knew she had to hold on and be strong until Brady came for her, but each day that passed, her hope dimmed a little more.

“Move your ass, whore!” he shouted, losing patience with her. Over the past week, he’d called her every name in the book. If there was one thing she wasn’t, it was a whore and hearing it, the temper that had abandoned her finally resurfaced and snapped.

“Fuck you, Lawrence.” She wobbled her way to her feet. “Fuck you. You think you’re so fucking tough. You need a bat to control me. You have to throw me in a basement and lock the door to keep me. You have to starve me near to death to try and steal my will to fight,” she gasped for breath as her shouting made her bruised ribs burn, but still she kept up her tirade. “You want to know what type of people do this shit? Losers. You’re a fucking loser, Lawrence and you always will be. So go ahead, do your worst. But guess what, you’ll NEVER break me. I’m better than you and I always will be. You’re not fit to lick the dirt from my shoes and when my Brady kills you, I’m going to dance on top of the flowers that I’ll plant on your grave. FUCK YOU.”

She finished and fell back down onto the mattress, pressing her good arm against her chest as she fought to suck in breath after breath. What she’d done wasn’t smart. Maybe it made her feel good in the moment to stand up to him, but the price of her disobedience was going to be steep.

Lawrence’s face turned purple with rage and his hand slipped into his pocket withdrawing a small object. She couldn’t see what it was and then it disappeared. She had no time to wonder what it was as his hand was suddenly in her hair, hauling her up to her tiptoes. His fist plowed into her stomach and it felt like he’d hit her with a brick. “Ahh!” she cried out against the pain. He hit her again and again and again before letting her fall back onto the mattress. When she rolled and tried to crawl away, he struck her back in the same manner. That’s when she realized what it was. Brass knuckles. He was punching her over and over with brass knuckles.

“Think you’re so fucking smart with your smart fucking mouth, don’t you? Think you’re better than me with your new fancy life. I’ll show you who’s fucking in charge here.”

He grabbed her hips and yanked her shorts down around her ankles and before she could blink he was tearing at her shirt. “Gonna fuck obedience into you, gonna fuck that fucking high and mighty attitude right out of you while I’m at it. You dumb fucking cunt.”

Gwyn panicked. “No, no, no, no,” she begged. Out of all the things he’d done to her over this past week, he’d refrained from raping her. She knew it was a possibility as he’d done it before, but she’d been hopeful he’d lost his attraction for her in that way. She struggled to get away from him and he pulled her back each time. She heard his zipper and started to cry which earned her another shot to the spine with the brass knuckles. Her back was numb, her stomach was on fire and she seriously worried about internal bleeding. Now it was about to get so much worse. He rolled her over onto her back and wrapped his hands around her throat and started to squeeze. “Teach you to fucking not listen to me,” he seethed. Her vision blurred as her head started to spin from lack of oxygen as his grip tightened on her throat. This was it. This was how she going to die.

They both froze when they heard the telltale sound of a pistol cocking. “Get your motherfucking hands off her, asshole.” Lawrence’s hands on her throat went slack. Gwyn didn’t recognize the voice right away but thought that it might be Theo, Brady’s friend. When someone knelt down on the mattress beside her, she turned her head and wept in relief.

“Brady. Brady,” she cried as he scooped her into his arms carefully. “I’ve got you, sugar. Just hold on.” He pulled a sheet around her body and moved her off to the side. Theo and Lawrence had started fighting and he needed to end this so he could get Gwyn to the hospital.

Theo slammed Lawrence with an uppercut to the jaw that snapped his head back. “How’s it feel to pick on someone way fucking bigger than you, cocksucker?” Theo was out of control, ready to beat Lawrence to a bloody pulp. Brady grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Their eyes met and Theo nodded in understanding, moving to tend to Gwyn.

Lawrence spat blood onto the floor and glared at Brady. “That bitch Mila dime me out? Fucking cunt. Can’t ever fucking trust a fucking woman.” He looked Brady up and down. “So you’re the fucking dumbass she’s got wrapped around her finger,” he motioned to Gwyn with his brass knuckled hands. “She’s a fucking worthless piece of shit. You can have her, I’m done fucking her and she can’t fucking learn the rules to—” BANG. Brady fired one shot, clean through his forehead and silenced him forever. His body fell back onto the mattress and bounced once before settling.

“You’re the piece of shit, you asshole,” Brady said. Rushing to Gwyn’s side, he took her back into his arms, his eyes filling with tears at the sight of her. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry it took me so long to get here, darlin’. I’m here now, I love you, Gwyn. We’re taking you to the hospital now.” Theo held open the door for them at the top of the basement stairs and they moved quickly towards the waiting car.

“I knew you’d come. I knew you would, Brady. I stayed strong and I held on for you. Please take me home. Our home, please, please,” she begged before she passed out.

They rushed her to the hospital where she was immediately admitted to an ER bed. It wasn’t long before she was whisked away into surgery and he was left alone with Theo in the waiting room. “That was way too fucking close. Way too fucking close.”

“You made the right call, Brady. West and Sam are still in Stockton Crossing and we will find this fucker. But it was more important that we get Gwyn to safety so that we can have your head in the game helping us. You know that was the right call,” Theo told him, slapping a hand on his shoulder.

The ER doors opened and a flood of stretchers poured in. “Move it, move it!” the paramedic shouted to them. Brady recognized Joan and then Mr. Bartlett, both wearing oxygen masks.

“What the hell happened?” he called out.

“Fire down at
Earl’s
,” she called back. “We’ve still got victims trapped in there.” Brady met Theo’s eyes and Theo waved him out the door.

“Go, go. I’ll stay here with Gwyn. Watch your back!” Brady nodded at raced out of the emergency room doors. Fucking hell. The killer had moved to Durham Heights. Taunting him for the decision he made to save Gwyn. If anyone died in this fire, their blood was on his hands. A fact he’d have to live with for the rest of his life.

N
ora stood with
her mouth hanging open staring first at Gabe beside her and then at Gabe who had just come through the front door.

“What the fuck? What the. I mean, you’re there,” she pointed to Gabe beside her. “But now you just came through there.” She pointed to Gabe at the door. She blinked at both of them and then just gave up. “What the ever loving fuck is going on here!”

The Gabe beside her took her hand gently and drew her to his side. “Nora, get behind me. He’s obviously some sort of imposter.”

Gabe by the door shook his fist. “Shut the fuck up, Marcus. Nora, look at me. Only at me. I’ve been a captive for two years by him. The night that we went to rescue Caleb, he shot me with blanks and stole my life. He stole you, Nora. You and Caleb. He had me locked in a hellhole and I’ve only just now managed to escape. I came straight here to warn you.”