WRECKED: GODS OF CHAOS MC, BOOK FOUR (2 page)

“You should go, before I kidnap you and run away with you forever,” I growled, my body hating me for pulling her away. Her lips were swollen and wet from our kisses, only increasing my desire for her.

“You’re such a gentleman, Jesse,” she said, biting the bottom of her puffy lip like a sweet seductress.

“I won’t be for long if you don’t get out of here,” I growled.

She giggled, grabbed her purse, and kissed me quickly again before sliding out of the truck and slamming the door. She turned and poked her head in the window, her sky blue eyes shining my way.

“See you tomorrow,” she whispered.

“You bet your sweet ass you will,” I replied. “Sweet dreams, babe.”

“Bye!” she waved, turning and walking away. I watched her walk to the door, my heart full of love and bewilderment. I was the luckiest man in the entire world. She was everything to me and I couldn’t believe she loved me back just as much as I loved her.

I knew I was one of the lucky ones. A lot of people didn’t find their soul mates until much later in life, if ever. And yet, somehow, somewhere, I’d done something right.

Because Francesca Maria Moretti loved me.

She waved at me one more time before opening the front door and walking in the house. I sat there for several long minutes, letting my mind wander, replaying the feel of her lips on mine, the way her hand fit so perfectly in my palm, the way her skin felt like satin under my fingertips. I hated to drive away, because that would only mean I was that much farther away from her. But it was getting late, and I needed to get some sleep if I was going to be awake for our date tomorrow.

I smiled, put my truck in gear and slowly drove down her street away from her house, away from the only thing in the world that meant anything at all to me.

I was only a block away when it happened. The explosion was so loud that I couldn’t hear anything at all afterwards. I jumped out of my truck, running back towards her house at breakneck speed.

But it was gone. Her house had exploded into nothingness.

There was nothing left.

Nothing but fire. Nothing but flames. There was nothing left.

Nothing but smoke, burnt wood and glowing, golden embers and flames flickering up towards the stars.

In an instant, everything changed.

My life was gone.

My future was gone.

My love was gone.

Our innocence - gone.

All I was left with was chaos.

Vanessa

Ten years later

I wish I could have been there. To smell the fuel as it was poured on the floorboards. To watch the match fall to the two little girl’s feet, igniting the flames. I’d have loved to watch the flames grow, starting out as a spark, a tiny flicker, until they were whipping violently around your bed, licking at your skin. What a delight it would have been to see you awaken and realize what was happening, to see the despair spring to your eyes like a tiny spark of its own, the desperation of your situation dawning on you, growing inside of you, until the fear consumed your soul. It would have been music to my ears to hear that first scream, followed by a dissonant symphony of anguish ripping from your mouth, your flailing limbs dancing in a ungraceful waltz, the flames growing around you, clinging to your body like a pleading lover, suffocating you, eating away the flesh of your perfect, beloved face…

Those are the words that were silently going through my head as I stared across the dining table at my husband, Royce Randolph the Third. Or, as I preferred to call him, the Monster.

He babbled on and on about who-gives-a-fuck - most likely the latest clueless billionaire that he’d conned money out of - and I ate in silence, staring across from him, ignoring every word and imagining how deliciously beautiful it would have been to be there when it all started.

When the lighting of one little match set the ruin of my life into play.

It was so long ago, a lifetime ago, really. I was a different person, just a kid really.

Royce was the same monster he’d always been.

Only he had just gotten worse, become more of a monster over the years, whereas I’d just become a shell, an empty body. But still, despite the fact that nothing in this world brought me joy, it would have been only fair for me to be there to witness the one good part of what had started this living nightmare I’d been banished into - Royce’s precious beautiful face turned into a melted disaster.

No such luck.

Figures, though. I’ve never been lucky.

I wasn’t lucky before this nightmare began and I wasn’t lucky now. I’d given up on luck years ago. What I was counting on now was much more thought out, meticulously planned, and dangerous.

My plan required one thing, above all: that I not underestimate the ruthlessness of my husband.

Husband.
God, how I hated that word! I hated that I was Mrs. Royce Randolph the Third. That fact alone disgusted me and I did my best to say it out loud as little as possible. If Royce ever noticed, he never mentioned it.

Not like he cared what I thought, or felt, for that matter. In fact, the only thing in the entire world that Royce cared about was himself. His money came a close second. After that, everything and everyone else was disposable. If he was displeased, he’d get rid of whatever the source was and replace it with something new and improved.

That was his attitude with everything in life. Companies, houses, yachts, friends, employees, servants, women - all just tools to make Royce’s life worthwhile, but certainly nothing was irreplaceable.

If only he thought that way about me
, I thought, sighing out loud before catching myself. I’d been wishing for years that he would suddenly tire of me being around, that he would get bored with my obvious disdain for him, but no. I was some sick pet possession of his. ‘
Sick
’ being the most important word there.

Without a doubt, Royce was the sickest person I’d ever known. Not that I’d really known a lot, since he’d been keeping me under his thumb since I was seventeen, but I knew sick when I saw it.

Sure, Royce was selfish, ruthless, and shallow. But his real personality was a lot darker than that. I knew right away that he was a horrible person, but as the years unfolded, I slowly discovered that I wasn’t just dealing with an ordinary bad man.

I was tied to a monster.

A monster of the worst kind - a predatory, evil, satanic beast.

It was far from easy. I went through every emotion at first, fighting him tooth and nail every step of the way, but slowly, I learned my most important lesson the hard way. Not only did I need to make sure I didn’t underestimate his power, his reach, his complete lack of humanity - but to defeat him, I had to become a monster myself.

So, here we were.

Two monsters, sharing a cold, yet civil dinner, languishing in a silent, simmering hate for one another.

The ruler and the prisoner, circling around each other in a fucked-up dance filled with secret messages and subtle nuances that formed our marital union of hate and possession.

My body was sitting here, but my mind was where it often was - imagining the demise of Royce the Ruler. Be it at my hand or not, I didn’t care - I just wanted him dead.

At this point, I didn’t believe in wishes or luck. I’d come to understand that the only thing that could change my situation was action. And I knew there was nobody else out there that was looking for me, so that action was up to me.

I may not have had a say in how I got here, but I was determined I wasn’t going to let it continue.

I only have one life and nobody else is going to save it for me.

I have to save myself. Somehow, someway, I have to get out of this man’s clutches.

I knew leaving was going to be putting myself in grave danger. I knew I might not make it out alive.

But I have to try. This nightmare I’m swimming in is no life at all. Being dead would be better than staying here. The risk to leave is worth my life.

But if I lived and Royce died instead?

Well, then maybe I’d start to believe in luck after all.

Royce loved his own voice almost as much as he loved his face, and as he kept rattling on, I couldn’t help but remember how it all started, the first time I met this hideous human. I’ve had so many horrible moments since then, but somehow this one seems to slice through me the deepest.

The tiniest flicker of light danced in my vision like a pinhole to another universe. I willed myself towards it, swimming through the heavy darkness, resisting the pull to sink back into it. My eyes fluttered, a soft moan drifting in my ears. Was that me?

My eyes opened, the light flooding my brain painfully and I slammed them shut again, the moan vibrating on my lips. That must be me. Where am I?

A low, throaty laugh sounded in my ears and I reached a hand out towards it.

“Dad?” I murmured, my hand left empty. The laugh sounded again, right next to my ear this time, but it wasn’t my father’s carefree laugh. It was something else. Something sinister, something that chilled me, something that cut right through the darkness and sliced into me like a knife.

“Dad?” I asked again, attempting to open my eyes once more, determined to push through the blinding pain. I blinked, and blinked again and again, pushing away the blurriness until my surroundings came into focus.

A hotel room. A bed. A window, the white drapes drawn closed.

A man.

Fear. What was a smooth sinking knife of fear in my gut before became a parade of thundering fists pummeling my heart into a bloody pulp.

Panic. Sheer, terror-inducing panic.

“Where’s my father?” I asked, my voice quivering.

“Dead,” the man answered - one simple, life-changing word.

“No!” I cried, attempting to sit up as my entire body was hit with the pain of a thousand semis running me over. I screamed, my hands flying to my head.

That’s when I felt the bandages. My head was covered in them, completely wrapped up like a mummy.

“No!” I screamed, denial rushing through my veins. “No, no, no!” I yelled, ignoring the physical pain as the mental anguish of my reality hit me.

“I’m guessing Daddy didn’t clue you in on your new face?” the man answered, shaking his head, clicking his teeth with his tongue. “Damn, that’s harsh.”

I slumped back in the bed, my head racing. I’d begged Daddy not to do it. Not to take my face. It was the only thing I had left of my mother. There was no pictures. No clothes. No keepsakes at all. Nothing was left after our house exploded.

The only things I had left of her were my father and my face - the one that resembled hers so greatly.

And now they were both gone.

I had nothing.

I was nothing.

“Amazing that he didn’t tell you,” the man muttered, leaning over me, his face so close I could feel the heat of his breath. “Maybe he meant to surprise you? Oh, well, too late for that now. But don’t worry, darling. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not a soul will touch that pretty little face, or harm a hair on your head - well, when it grows back, of course - except me.” He reached down, trailing a long finger up my arm, and I recoiled in horror.

“Who are you?” I whispered, swallowing hard, trying to push away the fear.

“I’m one of the richest and most powerful men in the world, darling. And thanks to your talented father, I’m even more beautiful than I was before. Surely, you’ve heard of me? Royce Randolph the Third, darling. Don’t worry, beauty. I’ll take care of you. You’re mine now.”

“Please just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone anything, if you just let me go,” I pleaded, tears forming in the corners of my eyes and stinging the raw flesh around them.

“Let you go?” he asked. “Darling, don’t be ridiculous. I love the idea of nobody ever touching your face before. It’s like it was created just for me. And, of course, it’s hard to see right now with all those bandages, but I bet your insanely talented father did an extra special, spectacular job on his precious daughter, don’t you think? I mean, look how beautiful he made me!” He stood up, running a finger over the bandages on my cheek. “Oh, yes, I can’t wait to unwrap this pretty little package. You’re a little too old for my tastes, but I guess I could use a wife, just for show. And what better choice than an untouched beauty like yourself?” Gleefully, he clapped his hands together, the evil glistening in his eyes.

“You can’t just keep me!” I demanded.

“Can’t I?” he asked, reaching inside his silk suit and pulling something out of his pocket. He held it up to my face and I cringed when I saw the photo of Jesse. “You see, darling, I did a little digging and it appears this person here is the only person, besides your precious dead father, that means anything to you. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for another death, would you?”

I whimpered in defeat, my heart sinking deep into my chest, the fear wrapping around me like a suffocating, debilitating haze.

He was right. He’d managed to find the one thing that he could use against me, the one thing that would render me helpless, and cause me to submit to his will.

I’d never in a million years take that risk.

And I didn’t. Ten years had passed at the hands of this Monster and I’d not made one misstep, not taken one tiny little risk. Instead, I’d bade my time, sat back, collected information, and meticulously planned every tiny detail of my plan.

If all went well, Royce Randolph the Third would never know what hit him.

Wreck

The first hit always hurt the most. After that, it was gravy. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I rarely won, especially when I was fighting against Slade, but he was bigger and faster than me, and, as indicated by the few teeth he was missing - he was used to getting hit.

But I tended to get some good punches in every now and then. I’ve got a mean left hook, if I do say so myself. But fucking Slade rarely flinches. So, I do my best to follow his lead, try to sneak in a few surprises along the way, keep my feet moving and my hands up, and I try not to forget to duck.