Ana
Hours Before
My head is pounding. It feels like water is swimming in my ears, whooshing around to the beat of my heart. Confusion fills my every fuzzy thought as my eyes try to crack open, wincing as my skull throbs in response.
“Don’t move,” Cole’s familiar voice instructs. His whispered command brushes against the shell of my ear, and I cease all movement. “They think you’re still asleep, keep it that way, love.”
Fear creeps down my spine and tumbles around in my stomach. Memories try to float to the surface, fighting back the fuzzy confusion consuming my muddied thoughts.
The only clear picture I can paint is a flash that doesn’t quite seem real. Riding in the car… Cole, Killian, and me.
Everything was so normal. Cole was being grumbly about something. Killian was ignoring him and I was ignoring them both, trying to read the latest society chatter in my text messages.
Everything was fine.
And then there was a crash.
I can hear a faint echo of Cole yelling in the memory before it all goes blank. A rush of nausea hits me, and I nearly whimper at the sick feeling.
“In a minute, they’re going to come in here,” his silky voice warns in a hushed tone. “It’s going to be bad, Ana. I don’t know who they are and the fact that they haven’t said what they want…”
I barely withhold a flinch at his implication.
We’ve been taken by a group of people, and they aren’t the friendly kind.
“I’m so sorry, love,” Cole whispers. “We both are.”
My heart drops. Killian is here too.
He can’t save us if he’s here too.
This isn’t Cole’s fault—it isn’t anyone’s fault—but I understand why he apologizes. He knows I wouldn’t be here if my mother never married his father. I would be back in London, probably helping her plan her next gallery show or studying in some stuffy university. My whole life would be entirely different if Bron never fell for her.
But I would have also never met him. I would have never found the St. Mary’s Orphanage and all of the sweet souls I met within it over the last few years. I most certainly wouldn’t have met any of my friends or found my place amongst the New York City elite. But with all the glitz and glamor comes the risk of horrors beyond the typical human imagination. Mafia living comes with hazards, and I wasn’t ignorant of them.
Being the stepdaughter to Bron Knight, Monarch of The Kings, put me in a position to be protected, but also one to be targeted. And still, Cole didn’t ask to be born a Knight more than I asked to become one at sixteen.
I don’t understand why this is happening now, though. Bron hasn’t warned us to be on alert, The Kings are in a time of peace, and no eminent threats have been made. A car accident could be just that—an accident. But being nabbed by people that even Cole doesn’t recognize? That’s a plot.
A well-constructed, planned down to every last detail plot. Kidnapping me, well, I’m not stubborn enough to deny how easy that could be for someone with any level of mafia training. Kidnapping me alongside Killian and Cole? That’s not something amateurs could pull off.
Cole is good at what he does. He’s a genius in multiple forms of combat and smarter than most people know. And Killian… Killian is a ruthless leader. Men cower at the idea of him—and for good reason. He’s demonstrated time and time again why it’s a bad idea to fuck with him. The man is built like a machine and fights like an animal. He could take down his own father to take over as Monarch without a fraction of effort, and everyone knows it.
“For what it’s worth, I always knew I’d die young,” Cole murmurs softly. “I’m just glad I got to have you before it happened. I love you, Ana.”
His confession causes a sob to catch in my throat.
He sounds so sure of what’s about to happen, and I can’t believe he isn’t terrified. His voice is steady and remorseful, but there isn’t a hint of fear to be heard. I don’t want him to die. I don’t want any of us to die.
“I’m going to do my best to keep you alive, love,” he vows, the soft words barely audible. “If you get a chance to flee, you run like hell. Promise me.”
No, I can’t.
My lips wobble, and I barely resist the urge to shake my head.
Like he can read my mind, he whispers, “Yes, you can, Ana. Promise.”
The sound of a door hinge rattles and my stomach drops. Our time alone is up.
“Awww, lookie here, is your pretty little sister awake?”
I don’t recognize the sound of the man’s voice, and when my eyes flutter open, I don’t recognize his face either. My brain automatically begins to categorize details about him, filing them away behind the forefront of my fear.
Tall.
Bald.
Middle-aged.
White.
Rough beard.
“She’s not my sister,” Cole growls, baring his teeth at our captor.
The room that we’re in is cold and depleted. Dirty tile floor and brick walls painted white that are stained with burned orange water damage. Long, rectangular hanging lights flicker above us, illuminating the small space. There’s a large window on one wall, but it doesn’t look external, more like it’s meant to see into another room, and the ceilings are short. A basement, maybe?
While scanning the place, my heart lurches as I find Killian. He’s tied down to a metal chair. His suit is ruffled, and he’s bleeding from his mouth. Feeling my gaze, his eyes find mine and he gives me a remorseful look. He doesn’t think we’re getting out of this alive either.
Our captor gives a barking laugh at Cole’s outburst, followed by a nasty grin. “Nah, I suppose I wouldn’t want someone calling my whore my sister either.”
“Don’t fucking call her that—”
The man ignores Cole, not even letting him finish. “Gotta say, that step-sibling shit is twisted—even to someone like me. Mommy and Daddy boning in the same house that you screw? That’s fucked up, man.”
“What do you want?” Killian demands, ignoring the man’s attempt to goad us.
“We,” a new voice chimes. “Don’t want anything.”
Two other men join the first, filling up the room. They look like bouncers at a club, or enforcers of some kind, not master kidnappers.
“Well, aside from your lives, that is,” the first man adds, smirking dangerously. A broken whimper leaves me, and tears start to stream down my cheeks. It only seems to amuse him, making him chuckle. “Get the sister-fucker in his chair, I’m ready to start this shit.”
What is his obsession with our relationship? Step-sibling relationships aren’t exactly the pinnacle of taboo. Especially since Cole and I weren’t raised together. We’ve only known each other for three years!
“No, no, no,” I scream, feeling Cole ripped away from my side.
My hands are bound impossibly tight behind my back, and my shoulders scream in protest as I try to wiggle free. Though hardly given room to move outside of how they are manhandling him, Cole still manages to knee one of the men right between the legs. He goes down hard with a howl, but the hit isn’t worth it.
The bald man in charge punches Cole so hard that a crack echoes through the room, and a yelped scream bursts from my lips.
“Fucking brat,” he spits, shoving Cole into a chair that matches Killian’s. “These spoiled rich kids never know when to quit, do they?”
“Whatever point you’re trying to make here, you can make it with me and me alone,” Killian growls. “Let them go, you don’t need them.”
“Ohhhh, how noble,” our kidnapper coos. “Big brother willing to take the hit to keep you both safe.”
“I’m the heir,” Killian spits. “If you want to hurt The Kings, you do it through me. Cole doesn’t need to die, and Ana is innocent.”
“She’s about as innocent as a hooker on the side of the road,” the man snorts. “And you’re wrong about your brother, he definitely needs to die. He’s half the reason we’re here, the little troublemaker.”
Cole grunts as the goons tie him down. “Fuck you.”
“Luckily for the girl, she doesn’t die tonight. We’re just going to give her a nice little show, and we’ll send her on her way. That is, if you cease pissing me the fuck off!”
They aren’t going to kill me?
“W-what? Why?” The question spills out of me before I can stop it.
“That’s privileged information, little girl,” he coos, waving at me in a creepy flirtatious manner.
“Now,” he continues, clapping his hands together in one sharp motion. “Shall we begin?”
In the blink of an eye, his body snaps forward, sending a heavy punch straight across Cole’s jaw. His head flies to the side, and the sound of the hit connecting makes me scream in protest. Cole hardly grunts, taking the strike and righting himself. He glares up at the man, spitting a glob of blood at his feet.
“You hit like a pussy,” he taunts, grinning a vicious crimson smile.
“Cole,” Killian warns, his voice deep and commanding.
Large, scarred fingers grip Cole’s chin and hold him tight. “You should listen to your big brother, you cocky fuck. This night can get much, much harder for you. I don’t typically have a taste for torture, but I’d make an exception for you.”
Cole arches a brow, unaffected by the threat. “Are you flirting with me? Sorry, you’re not my type.”
Please stop, I want to plead.
There would be no use, though. Cole refuses to die on someone else’s terms. If they want him to do something, he’ll do the opposite. He’ll disobey every order out of spite; it doesn’t matter what they threaten to do to him.
“I should cut your tongue out,” our captor snaps. “But you know what I’m going to do instead? I’m going to take something else from you. Something much more important than the slippery organ in your mouth.”
Savage eyes zero in on me, and I swallow hard, throat constricting at the threatening gaze. The vile man takes one step in my direction, causing both Killian and Cole to thrash in their seats.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” Cole snarls.
A callous laugh erupts from the man and he tips his head back, relishing in the reaction from both men.
“Touchy, touchy… didn’t I tell you? She’s not dying tonight.” He spins, tearing his stare from me. “Our next guest, though? Oh, he’s already at death’s door as we speak!”
This is a horrible dream. It has to be. Everything is happening too quickly to process. It’s wrong. Nothing happening in front of me is computing properly. It’s illogical, and I refuse to believe it.
Still, I don’t wake up.
This nightmare isn’t coming to an end. I’m not going to wake up in my bed, panting from lingering terror. Any chance of clinging to hope is slowly diminishing with every passing moment.
Please, please, I need to wake up.
A new source of bright light bursts into the room as the latest degree of horror is revealed. The singular window does, in fact, lead to another room. A room that isn’t empty, and shreds any remaining optimism for being rescued.
“Here’s Daddy,” our captor announces, a sinful chuckle punctuating his words.
A sob racks out of me at the sight of Bron, beaten and bloody. His face is swollen, and he can hardly keep his eyes open. Cole blinks at the scene like he can’t believe it. It doesn’t seem real to him either.
Looking directly at Killian, the bald man grins. “You didn’t think I would kill you and leave your father alive, did you? You don’t kill a cobra without cutting off its fucking head.”
Turning to me, he adds, “Don’t worry, girl. I won’t make you witness this part. We have to warm you up, don’t we? I can’t have shock setting in before we get to the truly juicy bits.”
Suddenly, the other room goes dark again. And then in a flash, a gunshot rings out. With only the flare from the firearm going off, we all witness Bron’s head snapping back.
My throat burns with a helpless, “Noooo!”
Breathing becomes impossible, and I’m panting for each gulp of air, hyperventilating as my mind races.
They killed him, they killed him!
My stomach turns, and cold chills rush up my neck.
Oh god, I’m going to throw up.
One of the goons pulls a wad of polaroids from his pocket and tosses them at Cole and Killian, one by one. “Since you missed all the fun we had with your old man earlier, we thought we’d give you these mementos.”
They took pictures?
Why! Why is this happening?
“You’re going to regret that,” Killian says, voice cold and malicious.
“Yeah? Who’s going to make me regret it? Your ghost?”
Killian doesn’t waver. “You think killing us will be the end? You think we don’t have allies that will avenge us? For your own sake, you should learn to sleep with one eye open.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
I watch in silent horror as the man pulls a gun from the back of his belt. He aims the shiny black pistol directly at Killian’s chest. My ears start to ring before he even squeezes the trigger, and when he does, I feel my face drain white, my blood going cold.
“Fuck!” Cole roars, watching as Killian’s white shirt floods red and his face goes pale. He’s unconscious, his life slowly fading.
“Where’s that smart mouth now?” the man sneers, turning his aim toward his body next.
“Please, stop!” I cry, hardly recognizing my own voice.
All of the men in the room laugh at my outburst.
Cole’s gaze meets mine, and he studies my face like it’s the last time he’ll ever see it. This nightmare is a prison that neither of us are escaping. We’re trapped here, facing each other as death looms near.
He’s too young.
We’re both too young for this.
I’m not even twenty yet.
We were supposed to die together sixty years from now.
“Go numb,” Cole mouths, the instruction slowly sinking into my soul without permission.
There still isn’t a hint of fear in his eyes, only an air of longing creeps up to the surface. He doesn’t want to die, but he’s resigned to the fact that it’s going to happen. Silent tears pour down my face as a whine catches in my throat.
“Go numb,” he mouths again. “For me.”
Retreating into my mind while it feels like the world is crashing in around me isn’t easy. In fact, it hurts. It burns like nothing else I’ve ever felt.
I’ve practiced this very method time and time again, but it’s never felt so awful before. It’s never been so difficult to disappear into the secure and dark corner hidden in the back of my mind.
Still, I fight the instinct to beg, plead and hysterically cry for mercy. Using every technique Cole has instilled in me to shut out the darkness surrounding us. My conscious mind flees, crawling on broken hands and withered knees to a guarded space in my head. A place where Cole and I are perfectly safe.
The heartache and panic brewing inside of me begins to soften and as I blink to clear my foggy sight, I see him smile. His teeth, stained with the remnants of bright blood, are the last peaceful thing I witness.
“Any last words?”
“Yeah,” his voice rasps. “See you in Hell, you fucking cunt.”
A piercing bang rings out, and Cole’s whole body goes stiff.
A single hole blooms between his eyes with thick crimson goo.
I hear myself screaming and recognize my throat aching with the strain of it. But I don’t feel the pain, I don’t feel anything. Not really.
I’m an empty shell, just as he trained me to be. So, no matter how hard they try to carve me up, they won’t find me.
But they don’t try to find me. They don’t even attempt it. Not as they untie me and I claw my way to Cole. Not as my hands slip in his blood and I shake his body, trying to will him back to life. No one attempts to kill me, or even inflict any sort of physical pain.
Instead, I’m shoved out of the building and sent away. I’m told to go home to tell the tale of horrors that I’ve just witnessed.
In a daze, I find my car waiting for me, realizing that this event was far more thoroughly planned than I could have imagined. They crashed into Killian’s SUV and had my vehicle fetched at the same time. I was always meant to be left standing, and I don’t understand why.
Even though my eyes remain open, everything seems to go dark.
My custom-built walls begin to crack with every minute that passes, and I know that my time is limited. I won’t make it home before my resolve detonates.
But I know somewhere closer than home.
