Denouement (The Darkness Series Book 3) (8 page)

Approaching slowly, she noticed the blood on the girl’s face and the multiple burn holes spread all over her body. Her clothes were in tatters where the flame had touched her and those parts of her skin weren’t in any better shape. The top layer had been stripped away, leaving the pink marred flesh exposed. “Goddammit!” she burst out, furious. “He was told not to touch you.” Furious at being disobeyed, Mila struck out. Her fist caught the girl on the cheek, snapping her head back. She was the only target close enough to feel her wrath. The girl whimpered and struggled, trying to beg behind the tape.

Heaving out a breath, Mila ran a hand through her own dark hair and pulled it over her shoulder to fiddle with the soft ends in an attempt to calm down. Killing her quickly would serve no purpose, she needed to relish in her work. It had been far too long and if her blood lust wasn’t satisfied, she would go crazy. An added bonus was the message it would send to the town, changing up the MO would stump and frustrate them and that’s exactly what she wanted.

She grabbed the girl by the hair and straightened her up in the chair, removing the blindfold and looking deep into her eyes. “Look, just relax. There’s no getting out of here, so don’t do anything to make me angry or it’s going to be a hell of a lot worse on you.” She shoved her head back, wiping her hands on her pant leg.
Ugh, sweaty hair.

The office was small, not many changes had been made since they’d taken over the building. There was a large oak desk that faced a window that overlooked the entire warehouse, the most logical conclusion being that Becker must have supervised his workers from that spot. There was another small door at the back of the room and from the telltale sound of a toilet flushing, Mila deduced it was the bathroom. The door opened after a few beats and another man emerged, also dressed head to toe in black with a ski-mask firmly in place.

“There you are,” Mila huffed. She gestured to the girl. “How did you let him get so out of hand? I made it very clear this merchandise for my use and my use only. I thought you understood how this all worked.”

“Look, Mila, I tried. But that is one fucked up motherfucker and there was no way I was getting in between him and his sick bag of tricks. I did what I could to restrain him and that’s why this bitch is still alive. So be thankful for that and you can take the rest of this shit up with him,” he shot back, not taking any crap from her.

Mila sighed, fed up. These two were going to be the death of her, but they’d proven their worth in more ways than one over the past two years. “Give it to me,” she demanded, holding out her hand expectantly.

He moved to obey and drawing the machete from the back of his pants, placed it carefully in her outstretched hand. Mila moved towards the woman and used the tip of the blade to slice open her shirt, exposing her pink lace bra.

“I’m going to take my time with you, dear. I hope you understand. It’s been quite some time since I’ve been able to satisfy these particular…urges, if you will,” she explained. She turned her head back to the man.

“Take the tape off her mouth, let the poor girl at least speak.” The man stepped forward and ripped the tape from the girls’ mouth in one quick swipe. The second her lips were free she let out a bone-chilling scream and thrashed harder in her chair.

“Let me go, let me go, LET ME GO!” she screamed. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she sobbed and yelled, continuously pleading for her freedom, for her life. She glared at the man in the room, he had seemed so kind, so gentle. He’d fucking tricked her and now she was trapped; trapped in the hands of three fucking psychopaths.

Mila used one hand to cup the girls’ breast through her bra, pinching and twisting her nipple. “You’re quite the beauty aren’t you? Tell me, what’s your name?” she asked, switching her attention to her other breast.

“Lee-Leanne,” the girl stammered, disgusted at Mila’s touch. No sooner had she uttered the words than Mila brought the machete down across her stomach in a clean, smooth strike. Red blood appeared instantly in a straight line, running down her, pooling in her belly button and sinking below the waist band of her jeans.

“Fuckkkk! Stop!” Leanne yelled, the pain immense. She’d fucking cut her with a machete!

Mila ignored her pleas, focused on the blood. She took her pinky finger and ran it through the blood, moaning at the feel of the warm liquid. She spun her head around and pinned the man with her crazed stare.

“Get out. I want this time alone with her, I’ll call you back when I’m finished.”

The man nodded and moved towards the door without question.

“Oh, and Deputy Ridley? Sam,” she corrected herself, remembering how he didn’t like to be referred to his official status in these situations. “Be sure that my son is behaving himself out there.”

“Understood, Mila,” Sam replied and left the room. The screams that followed him were ones from the blackest of nightmares. The girl would suffer immensely, that much he knew, before Mila was satisfied enough to call them both back into the room to be involved in finishing the deed. That was just the way she operated. A fact he’d learned all too well over the past two years being under her instruction. Heading for their partner, he flashed back to the day she’d tracked him down.

Two Years Ago

Deputy Sam Ridley
walked along the beach for the third time that day. He liked to hear the sound of the surf washing up along the sand, to watch the families spread themselves out on towels; either cooking like lobsters or hiding from the sun under huge umbrellas. He’d been in Florida for six months, escaping there after his beloved wife, Hailey, was the victim of a gruesome killing. A victim because he’d failed to save her. She’d trusted him with her life and he’d let her down in the worst way possible. The guilt and grief followed him like it was a part of his shadow; he couldn’t escape her or the ghost of the life he’d lost.

Brady James, his Sheriff and best friend, called him repeatedly, trying to get an answer on his well-being—on when he thought he’d be returning to Durham Heights. Sam avoided the calls, avoided his old life as much as possible. His parents and Hailey’s parents both did their best to hound him into an answer as well, but the truth was, he didn’t think he would ever go back. That life, the one he’d left behind in that small town, he hated it. Hated it with a gut-wrenching anger that was threatening to consume him. It wasn’t just him that had failed Hailey, it was everyone. Why hadn’t Brady been smarter? Why hadn’t the FBI arrived sooner? Why wasn’t there more evidence that would have led them to Jed and Mila sooner? Why was Gwyn alive and Hailey dead? That question burned him more than any of the others. Knowing that Brady was still going to get his happily ever after, it was an injustice he just couldn’t face.

And feeling that way made him feel like scum. Hailey would be ashamed of him. She’d be disgusted at his thoughts and would beat his ass for even blaming one single person besides the ones actually responsible. That was just who she was. A kind, caring, fierce woman who loved with her entire being. Sam had no doubt she’d put up one hell of a fight to survive and the fact that she’d lost that battle, well, that knowledge dragged him deeper down into Hell with each passing moment.

The warm Florida sun beat down on his back as he finished his regular loop on the beach and headed back to the main road. Unlocking his car door, he took one last look out at the crystal blue water and sighed. If only he could find some peace here. Regain at least a small portion of his lost soul. The man he’d been had ceased to exist the day that Hailey’s body had been discovered. He’d died right along with her and left behind in his place was a shell of a man. One that fed on his anger and rage and nurtured the darkness growing inside him. He didn’t just want justice for Hailey. He wanted vengeance.

Arriving back at his beach house, he opened the sliding screen door that he never bothered to lock—not because of a low crime rate—simply because he didn’t care what happened to him. The beach house was spacious and white. An open concept floor plan stared back at him. The kitchen was clean granite countertops, stainless steel appliances and light blue cupboards which accented nicely with the pale yellow painted walls. It had been furnished when he moved in with a large couch in the living room that faced a stone fireplace and flat screen TV hanging on the wall. Moving into the kitchen, he pulled open the fridge door and grabbed a cold beer, popping the top and taking a long swallow.

“I’ll take one of those.” Sam jumped at the voice behind him, beer spurting into the air from the bottle. Bewildered, he turned towards the voice and froze. Standing in his living room dressed in a white sleeveless blouse and white shorts was none other than Mila Stevenson. The fucking bitch responsible for ruining his life. For taking Hailey away from him. The murderous fucking cunt that had escaped while they were all left behind to pick up the pieces she’d left in a pile in her wake. And she was
smiling
at him, her dark hair twisted in some fucking bun thing and sunglasses on her head like she’d just come in from a day shopping by the beach.

With a roar, he reached for his gun at his side, looking down in confusion when he came up empty-handed.

“Ah,” Mila raised her brows. “Not carrying these days, are you Deputy Ridley?” Hearing her say his name, the name that he’d given to Hailey on their wedding day, it was too much. Even just
looking
at her was too much and he fucking snapped. With a roar, he charged at her and crushed his hands around her neck, seeking the squeeze the life right out of her.
Anything to get her to stop fucking talking. Stop existing.

Mila sputtered and slapped at his hands, her eyes wide and locked on his as she fought for air. The longer he stood there, watching the life drain from her eyes, the more he channeled all his rage through his fingertips and into her.

Destroyed.

Enraged.

Broken.

She’d stolen everything from him and now he was going to repay what’d she’d done and steal her life. Rid the world of her once and for all.

“YOU KILLED MY WIFE!” he screamed in her face, ignoring her flailing arms and scratches on his hands.

Mila gurgled, trying to speak and then went limp, slumping down the wall he had her pinned up against. Breathing heavy, Sam let her body pool at his feet. Shock set in and he stared at her open-mouthed.

“What the fuck. What the fuck.” He repeated the words over and over. He’d killed her. He’d killed a woman. Mila fucking Stevenson had just shown up at his house and he’d murdered her like he’d dreamed of doing ever since the day she’d escaped.

Staggering back a few steps, he lost his balance and landed hard on his ass on the tiled floor. His hands trembled as he stared down at them. Hands that had just taken a human life.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” he whispered. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there, unable to pull his gaze away from Mila. “What have I done?” Hailey would never forgive him for this. Justified or not, he’d just committed cold-blooded murder. He was no better than Mila. The darkness inside him was slowly consuming any and all the good parts of his soul it could sink its claws into. Soon, he’d be worse than she ever was. He’d be an unpredictable murderer and there was nothing more monstrous than that.

Feeling his pants get wet, he glanced down and realized he’d fallen in a pool of beer. He must have dropped the bottle when he rushed at her. Looking around there was broken glass all over the floor, confirming his suspicions. He put his hands beneath him and pushed to his feet, robotically heading for the broom and dustpan to clean up the mess.

Loud coughing and wheezing startled him. Mila clutched a hand to her chest and to his horror, sat up, looking around in confusion. Spotting him holding the broom like a baseball bat, she tried to speak, her voice low and hoarse.

“Well done, Deputy. I knew you had it in you. I knew deep inside there was a dark nature just waiting to be let out.” Mila patted her hair and brought a hand to her throat, grimacing when she prodded the tender skin. Sam could already see the purple imprints of his finger prints starting to pop out.

She gained her feet and walked towards him, not breaking their connection. “You’ve kept it inside, you’ve been hiding out here, away from everyone because you know—you know what you’ve become.”

“Stop it. Shut the fuck up. How are you alive? I fucking killed you!” Sam yelled. She kept coming closer, kept worming her way inside his head with her words, slicing down into the very core of him.

“You killed me. You wrapped your hands around my throat without any hesitation and didn’t stop until I was dead on the floor. You know what you are, Sam. You’re a killer. A monster. You’ve got the devil dancing in your veins waiting to be unleashed. You just need the right instruction.” She stopped in front of him and took the broom from him, setting it aside.

Sam looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. She took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

“You killed me, Sam,” she repeated. “You. Are. A. Killer.”

“No,” he shook his head, trying to knock her hands away. Mila stayed put and knew she had him when his shoulders slumped and he locked eyes with her once again.

“Yes, Sam. You have become me. And I’m going to teach you exactly what that means.”