Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

35. Willow

CHAPTER 35

WILLOW

JEALOUS LOVER – ANIMAL FLAG

“Happy birthday, Ari.”

Ruffling her short blonde pigtails, I cuddle her close to my chest, ignoring the pain as her body presses against my bruised torso. On the floor of her bedroom sits a single, tiny cupcake with a candle in it that Pedro brought with him.

“You have to make a wish, baby.”

She’s too young to have any idea what I’m talking about, but I keep up the pretence anyway, lifting the cupcake and helping her to blow it out. Standing behind me, Pedro quietly claps.

“Good job, Ari,” he coos.

Laughing to herself, Arianna claps her hands together joyfully. I peel the cupcake’s wrapper then pull off a bite for her to munch on, twisting to look up at Pedro.

He’s beaming at both of us, full of happiness. This is the side of Pedro that no one else sees. The side that’s reserved just for us and no one else in this Godforsaken mansion.

Arianna curls up in my arms, sucking her thumb into her mouth which is smeared with cupcake icing. Her eyes flutter shut, as Pedro takes a seat next to me on her bedroom floor.

“I wanted to get her a present,” he sighs, gently tracing a knuckle down her cheek.

“You would’ve gotten in trouble.”

“I know, but it would have been worth it.”

“He’d kill you, then me.”

His eyes are sad. “He’s killing you regardless, Willow.”

Coughing wetly, I try to conceal my wince of pain. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. He can’t keep doing this to you.”

“It’s been nearly five years, Pedro. Nothing has changed, and nothing ever will.”

Reaching out to grasp my hand, he holds on tight. “It won’t unless you get out of here. I could help you. We could leave together.”

I smack his hand away. “We would never make it.”

“Of course, we would. Together.”

“Keep on dreaming. This is my life now. I’ve made my peace with it, and so should you.”

A determined fire burns in his eyes.

“We’ll get out of here, Willow. I swear on my life, I will get you out. No matter what it takes, you and Arianna will be free to live out happy, healthy lives, far from this place.”

I feel a single tear streak down my cheek. “Don’t make promises that you can’t keep.”

Pedro smiles. “I never do.”

I wake up to the sound of screaming. Shooting upright on a soft, pillowy mattress, I blink to clear the haze from my vision. Where am I? This isn’t my cabin. I don’t recognise the pale grey walls.

That’s when it all comes back to me in a horrifying rush of realisation. The trial. Lia. Being drugged. Raising my hand to my neck, I feel the sore, bruised skin where the needle went in.

My other hand immediately rests on my bump as horror infiltrates my system. I’m groggy and achy, but everything else feels normal. My clothes are still intact.

“Are you okay in there?” I whisper to the baby.

I wish I could crawl in there and check that everything’s alright. I’ve got no idea what drugs they shot me full of, but it feels like I’ve been out for hours. My entire body is heavy and numb.

Where the hell are we?

Manoeuvring myself up, I manage to get my feet on the floor and look around the plain bedroom. It feels more like a guest room, with a wide, four-poster bed covered in fresh white linens.

I almost jump out of my skin when the sound of screaming comes again—louder this time. It sounds like it’s right beneath me.

Heart beating fast, I creep over to the door and press my ear against it. The sound of fists hitting flesh is instantly recognisable to me. Someone’s getting the hell beaten out of them nearby.

Crap, I need to get out of here. Is Mr Sanchez watching me right now? I know he’s here, wherever we are. It’s only a matter of time before he comes for me, and the torture begins.

Searching around the room, I frantically look for some kind of weapon, but there’s nothing. Not a single personal possession, almost like this entire room is just a fa?ade rather than a real home.

“Shit!”

Sitting down on the end of the bed, my head falls into my hands. I was so stupid to follow Lia out of that court, but I had no other choice. It was that or risk Arianna’s life, so I’d do it all over again.

Even though I know it landed me here, back at square one—trapped, alone and afraid, in an unknown house in the middle of God knows where. But this time, I know what’s coming.

I won’t survive it.

Neither of us will.

The tears come, hot and overwhelming. Cradling my unborn child, I allow myself a moment of weakness and sob uncontrollably, letting the fear take over before I have to be brave again.

When the screaming stops, I abruptly look up, awash with fear. Are they dead? Whoever was being hurt has been silenced, one way or another. A shiver rolls over me. I’ve seen it happen enough times.

Enough, Willow.

Time to face the devil.

With a deep breath for courage, I scrub the tears from my face and smooth my dress. The door is unlocked, the handle twisting and clicking open when I walk over to try.

There’s an empty hallway on the other side, long and stretching onwards, with thick carpets and framed abstract art on the walls. The house seems old, the ceilings are high and stretch above me.

“H-Hello?”

Movement on the left startles me, and I realise that Lyon is leaning against the wall, his glossy black hair flopping over his eyes. He takes one look at me and sneers.

“Look who’s up.”

“Lyon,” I gasp.

“It’s been a long time, petal. You still know how to put up a fight.”

My eyes stray to the deep, bloody scratch on the left side of his face. I have a vague memory of lashing out and scratching him as he shoved me into a car. It looks swollen and painful.

“Suits you.”

He bares his teeth. “It’ll suit you better when I tear your fucking face off with my bare hands.”

“I’d like to see you try.” I hold my midsection protectively. “Let’s get this over and done with. Take me to him.”

“Look who’s so eager for her punishment.” He chuckles maniacally. “Come on then, petal. The boss man is waiting.”

Grabbing me by the wrist, he pins my arms behind my back at an awkward angle. I hiss in pain, pulling in an attempt to wrench myself free of his grip, but I’m completely stuck.

“Little bitch,” he hisses.

“Ever the charmer, Lyon.”

“When did you get such a smart fucking mouth?”

“Since I decided to stop giving a shit about assholes like you.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll soon beat that attitude out of you.”

Escorted down the corridor, I take in as much of our surroundings as possible. It seems to be someone’s home, but it’s empty and bare, almost like the owners vanished, or all of their possessions were sold.

Down a grand staircase, we emerge into an entranceway marked by a circular table with a vase full of long-dead flowers on it. The door leading outside is protected by two of Sanchez’s heavily armed thugs.

“What is this place?”

“Somewhere no one will ever find you,” Lyon answers confidently. “Those assholes aren’t coming for you here.”

But he doesn’t know the guys like I do. They’re not just any assholes. They’re my assholes, and I know they’ll always come for me, regardless of how long it takes. I just have to hold on.

Lead over to a set of carved double doors, Lyon stops outside then knocks once. There’s movement on the other side of the door before another armed guard swings it open.

Here we go.

Feeling strangely calm, I lift my head high, determined to face Mr Sanchez with no fear. I’m ready. He’s threatened my children for the very last time.

“Bring her in,” a throaty voice booms.

Shoved into the low-lit living room lined with rich carpets and spotted with the odd piece of furniture, I come face to face with the devil himself.

“Willow. How nice of you to join us.”

Mr Sanchez still looks the same—from his slicked back, salt and pepper hair, perfectly trimmed beard and strong, bearded jawline to his handsome looks and spotless, expensive suit.

He’s Satan in disguise.

Evil behind a pretty exterior.

I take a wobbly step into the room. “Dimitri.”

His smile slips. “What have I told you about addressing me correctly, bitch?”

“I no longer take orders from you.”

Doubling over with crazed laughter, he wipes imaginary tears from his eyes. “Oh, how you’ve changed, darling wife. I quite like this version of you. She has some backbone.”

“No thanks to you.”

Shoving me farther into the room, Lyon escorts me over to a plush, green velvet sofa where I’m deposited. Mr Sanchez’s icy blue gaze doesn’t stray from me, taking in all the little details.

He licks his lips, already salivating over my pain. When he spots the glinting engagement ring on my left hand, his carefully constructed mask begins to fray at the edges.

I keep my head held high.

“Who are they?” he demands, his spit flying. “On what universe are these worthless pieces of shit better than me?”

“They don’t beat and rape me, for starters. That should’ve been an easy guess.”

He takes a menacing step closer. “Enough of your smart mouth!”

“No.” I jump up from the sofa, refusing to let him talk down to me. “It’s not enough. Nothing will ever be enough for what you put me and my child through.”

“My child,” he snarls, his lip curling as if he smelled something rotten. “I’ll get her back, Willow. They can’t keep her safe forever. Not from me.”

“Touch her, and they’ll kill you.”

“And what if I touch you?” He cocks an eyebrow mockingly. “You’re my fucking property, after all. Bought and paid for like the whore you are.”

“I belong to myself! I’m not yours!”

Striding over, he backhands me so hard, I feel my lip split. Pain buzzes through my head as blood dribbles down my chin.

“Silence,” he shouts in my face.

“You think I can’t take one little slap?”

His dark eyes stray down to the swell of my pregnant stomach. “I know you can, wife, but can that little demon spawn inside of you?”

Covering my stomach, I cower away from him, hunching over to protect myself. Triumph burns in his eyes. I can take his beatings, but I have to think about the baby.

“Speaking of...” Mr Sanchez prowls around the sofa, his eyes locked on my belly. “I was most surprised to see you on the news all knocked up.”

My mouth opens, but no words come out.

“How dare you,” he spits at me. “I will burn their touch from your skin before I kill them in front of you.”

“Leave them alone,” I whisper brokenly.

He snorts. “Like they left my property alone? Look at the fucking state of you.”

When he reaches down to painfully grab my breast through my dress, I shrink farther into myself. All I want to do is fight back, but I’m powerless to do that in this condition.

“You should be full of my baby, not theirs.” His hot breath meets my ear. “But that’s no trouble. We’ll soon get it out of you and remedy this situation.”

“No!” I screech.

Unable to hold it in any longer, I throw my fist out, striking him in the face. Mr Sanchez stumbles backwards, looking stunned.

Before I can advance, Lyon grabs hold of me from behind and pulls me down, pinning my arms to the sofa above my head. I kick out with my legs, screaming my head off.

“Let her go,” Mr Sanchez orders. “I like it when she fights back.”

Lyon releases me, and I surge to my feet, determined to run. Even if it’s back to my room. All I need is to get away from him before he can touch me.

Banking left, I try to flee across the expensive rug, but a foot catches me at the last second. My legs are swept out from underneath me, leaving me sprawled across the floor in a breathless tangle on my back.

Mr Sanchez laughs as he looms over me, a foot on either side of my body. He moves closer to hover over my chest then places a hand low on my belly, right above the baby’s swell.

“What am I going to do to you?” he hums.

“Touch my baby, and I’ll kill you.”

“Hilarious, darling wife.” He barks out a sinister chuckle. “I’d like to see you try.”

He lowers himself to settle between my legs, pushing them open with a knee. Disgust inundates my system when I see his cock straining against his trousers. No. Not again. He won’t get another chance to touch me.

When he leans close to drag his tongue up the side of my face, I snap my knee upwards, slamming it into his crotch. Mr Sanchez’s eyes bug out as air whooshes out from between his lips.

“I’ll cut it off next time,” I warn. “You wanted me to fight back, right?”

Falling onto his side, I shove him off me then hurriedly roll over to climb to my knees. Lyon’s there in a flash to restrain me again, but this time, there’s a gun in his hands.

“I’ll blow your goddamn brain out myself, little bitch!”

I flinch when he presses the cold steel into my temple.

“No,” Mr Sanchez groans. “Take her downstairs with the other slut, and ensure she learns how to behave.”

Wrestled to my feet, the room sways around me. Lyon’s nails dig deep into my wrists as he drags me from the room, leaving Mr Sanchez on the ground, cupping his sore crown jewels.

His sharp, burning gaze on me is the last thing I see before the door swings shut, leaving me alone with his pet psychopath. I struggle to breathe as he drags me by my wrists.

“What is it with you ignorant sluts causing so much damn trouble?” Lyon growls.

I thrash in his grip. “Get the fuck off me.”

“You want me to get off? That’s what you want?”

Slamming me into a wall hard enough to send stars bursting behind my eyes, he covers my body with his, grinding his hardness into me. I want to throw up on him.

“I’ll get off if you say so,” he whispers in my ear, his teeth grazing the lobe. “That what you want, pretty little slut?”

Tears course down my cheeks, hot and sticky. When he finally releases me before someone notices him feeling up the boss’s property, a relieved breath escapes my mouth.

“Not to worry.” Lyon smirks. “We’ll pass around what’s left of your ass once the boss is done with you.”

I don’t see the blow coming until it’s too late. His fist smashes into the side of my face, crunching bone and sending pain exploding through me. Before I can even open my eyes, he delivers yet another agonising punch.

“Fucking whore,” he lashes out.

When his knuckles connect with my nose, I feel it burst. Hot blood runs down my throat and begins to choke me as I scream at the top of my lungs. The pain is indescribable.

Please .

Please let them find me.

“That’s more like it.” Lyon wraps his hands around my throat and squeezes. “I like you better when you’re silent.”

The squeezing tightens into a vice-like grip that makes my lungs burn. I scratch at his hands, desperately fighting for breath, but there’s no oxygen flowing into my chest.

“It’s a shame I can’t kill you yet.” He sighs dramatically. “But I’m a patient man. I’ll wait until Mr Sanchez is finished to have my turn.”

Releasing my throat, I double over, feeling like my chest is on fire, spluttering and coughing as air rushes to my lungs.

Grabbing a handful of my hair, he smashes my head into the wall—once, twice, three times. I can feel blood soaking into the back of my head as the wall slices my scalp open.

“Night-night, bitch.”

With the final plaster-cracking blow, the world and all of its agony wink out of existence. Only this time, I go into the darkness willingly, desperate for a brief moment of peace.