Claimed by Shadows (The Shadowmen #2)

Chapter 2

HUNTER

I watch as Rowan uses a large knife to cut away this Russian man’s clothes, the sedative still keeping him knocked out. I’d feel sorry for the guy, but I’m pretty sure he was one of the ones who came to the estate that night, so fuck him. He doesn’t deserve my pity.

It’s why I can’t put a stop to Rowan hunting them down one by one and extracting his vengeance on them. It’s exactly what I want to be doing, and several times over the past few weeks I’ve joined in, unable to deny the rage that takes over me when I think of her being taken.

I’ve spent countless hours trying to get a glimpse of her, but Sergi has his mansion and estate locked down tighter than Fort fucking Knox. No one has seen her, and thus far, the men we’ve taken haven’t been able to shed any light on what is happening to her inside that hellhole.

It’s the not knowing that is slowly killing us. We can guess what she may be going through, though things get even bloodier when any of us go down that road.

“Wakey-wakey,” Roman sings, and I look up to see the man’s eyelids fluttering. “Welcome to your death.”

Crossing my arms, I lean against the workbench that contains all of Rowan’s tools and stare at the huge Russian as his eyes focus on his surroundings. To give him credit, he doesn’t show fear, his upper lip curling as he looks at each of us.

“ Tvoyu mat bliad, ” he spits out, his nostrils flaring. We ignore him, used to being called every name under the sun on a fairly regular basis ever since we were children.

“Awww, there’s no need to be offensive,” Roman replies, his tone mock-offended and his hand on his heart even as an unhinged grin splits his lips. “We’re all here to have a bit of fun. Well, we are. You’re just gonna be in a world of pain until we end your miserable existence.”

The man snarls in Russian again, but Rowan, clearly fed up with all the talk, uses the large knife in his hand to cut a line down the man’s thigh, missing anything vital and causing him to roar in agony. Blood seeps from the long wound, dripping down the man’s leg, who jerks on his chains, the clinking sound adding to his pants and whimpers.

Rowan doesn’t even pause, because the goal here isn’t information, but rather an exorcism of the demon that resides inside Rowan; all that is required is the body of an enemy.

“Her screams are music every night Sergi fucks her,” the man rasps, spit flying from his mouth. The blood freezes in my veins, and I hold my hand up to pause Rowan, all of us stilling. The Russian smiles, blood lining his teeth as no doubt he bit the inside of his cheek with the pain. “She’s so loud we can all hear, even with the door shut, and it makes me hard as a rock.”

I straighten up, stalking towards him until we’re almost nose to nose.

“Anything else?” My voice is barely a growl, like boulders grating against each other just before a landslide happens.

He. Fucking. Smiles.

“I’ve held her down a few times. We all have, though only Sergi may fuck her, and she bleeds so beautifully when he takes her, bruising so perfectly under his fists.” Nausea swirls in my gut at his words, at the truth I can see in his eyes. He knows he’s going to die. He has no reason to lie, unless he thinks his words will earn him a quick death. He’s wrong.

“Roman, secateurs,” I snarl, watching as our prisoner’s pupils widen.

The secateurs are in my hand a second later, and I step back, my gaze drifting downward to where his limp dick hangs. He’s not large, not too small either, which makes it easier for what I’m about to do. Roman goes behind him, holding his hips as he tries to jerk away, then I place the cutters on the base of him and snap them shut.

The scream that comes from his mouth is inhuman, blood pouring from between his legs as I let the secateurs and his severed dick fall to the floor with a clank and a wet sound. Before I need to say anything, Rowan is there with a small blowtorch, sealing the wound so this cunt doesn’t die too quickly. He passes out then, and I step back as Roman throws a bucket of ice water over the man to rouse him.

“It’s no fun if you’re not awake,” he tells him casually, setting the bucket down before grabbing a metal baseball bat.

The next few hours flow into one, each of us allowing our beasts free rein to do as they wish. It doesn’t stop the words he said from buzzing around my brain like angry wasps, stinging me over and over again until I’m bleeding just as much as he is. Though my wounds are invisible, his are less so, and by the time we’re finished, he’s almost unrecognisable.

Something drips down the side of my face and crimson soaks my hands, my clothes not much better. I look up at the twins, my chest heaving. They’re nightmarish in appearance, and my heart clenches at the deadness in Rowan’s eyes.

“Let’s leave him near the gates of the Petrov Estate,” I tell him, and he nods. “Get cleaned up and wrap the body. We’ll have to get rid of the car. Call Jonny.”

Jonny is our clean-up guy. He and his guys will have this room and the tools wiped down and the body cleaned of our DNA before dropping it where we need it to go. Sergi can guess who is killing off his men, but I don’t want to give him anything concrete.

A wave of worry runs through me as I realise Iris might be forced to pay for our actions today, and I clench my blood-soaked hands into fists as I stalk to the back of the room where there is a bathroom that we use to shower and clean ourselves after these sessions. I stride in, shedding my clothes and leaving them in a pile for Jon to take care of before walking over to the shower and turning it up to scalding.

I step under it, hissing as it burns my skin, but the pain grounds me. It’s something I should suffer, given what I now know Iris is suffering at the hands of that bastard. The bathroom door opens and shuts, the sound of clothes hitting the floor before another body steps into the shower.

“Jesus! Fuck, Hunt!” Roman exclaims, reaching past me to turn the temperature down. My chest rises and falls with my panted breaths, the sting of tears gathering in my eyes.

“She’s hurting, Roman,” I grit out through clenched teeth, my jaw so tight pain shoots down my neck. “She’s hurting, and I let him take her.”

His forehead rests on my back, his arms coming around and pulling me close to him.

“You had no choice, Hunt,” he tells me, something he has said so many times in the past three weeks I’ve almost lost count.

I swallow, knowing that he’s right but unable to shed the blame that coats my skin like an oil slick. “She chose us, and we failed.”

“I know.” His voice is thick and the tears fall from my eyes, mixing with the water from the shower.

I’m so fucking sorry, Peaches.

“SLIP AWAY” BY UNSECRET, RUELLE

IRIS

After breakfast, I’m led back upstairs to get dressed, my clothes for the day set out on the bed as they are each time I’m required by Sergi to change. He likes me in demure clothes, something that someone older than me would wear. The silk blouse and pencil skirt he laid out are perfectly fashionable, especially as both are Chanel, but they are not me.

Sighing, I head into the bathroom and quickly shower, brushing my teeth and hair, styling it in a simple, elegant bun as Sergi prefers. I want to leave it free or up in a messy bun, but I know the punishment will be severe and I’m just so fucking tired of fighting all the time.

Heading back into the bedroom, I pick up the black lace underwear and put it on, revulsion making the back of my jaw tingle. It’s beautifully soft and no doubt very expensive, but that Sergi chose it, that he knows what’s touching my most intimate places is enough to make me want to throw up.

Soon I’m dressed exactly as he likes, and I pull on the wool jacket that was in my closet when I arrived as I head to the door. I open it to find the goon from before waiting, arms crossed and a scowl on his ugly face. I haven’t bothered to find out the names of Sergi’s men, the ones that have seen so much of me. Some have even held me down while Sergi?—

I cut that thought off, my fists clenching as I ignore goon number one and stride past him towards the stairs. If I think about the nightly torment I undergo, I’ll start screaming and never stop.

Nikolai will be here soon…

The thought floats around my mind as I once more descend the stairs and head towards the back of the mansion. There are several exits into the grounds and gardens, all guarded by menacing-looking men who will feature in my nightmares for the rest of my life.

Ignoring them all, desperate for a breath of fresh air, I walk through one of the drawing rooms, which has large French doors that open onto the patio. The man on guard makes me wait a beat before he opens them—Sergi isn’t the only bastard here who thrives on controlling others—but as soon as he does, I stride through, taking what feels like the first breath of oxygen I’ve had since yesterday’s walk.

I don’t stop, walking away from the house and towards the woodland that makes up part of the estate. There are rolling lawns, and the spring sunshine teases my face with a caress that I don’t feel clean enough to deserve. Maybe that’s why I prefer to walk through the woods, it’s less…I don’t know. I just feel like the dappled sunlight is more my place right now. I can’t face the scrutiny of the brightness of the full sun, highlighting all the things that now make me feel so dirty.

Unwilling to face that trauma right now, I shut that shit down and try to focus on the here and now, on the birds singing in the trees and the rustle of the leaves that are emerging on the branches. There’s so much possibility here, the bright yellow daffodils almost bringing tears to my eyes with their cheerful promise of something better.

“How long until Nik is back?” I question, knowing that Goon One is close behind me by his heavy footfalls among the leaves.

“By the end of the week,” he answers, and I pause, surprised that he actually answered. Usually they all take great joy in tormenting me any way they can, and withholding information definitely counts.

“What day is it today?” I ask, my heart thudding loudly inside my chest as I wait to see if he’ll give me another piece of information. It’s like mining for gold, and I hold each one close to my chest. Whether I’ll trust what he tells me is another matter, though what choice do I have?

“Friday.”

The organ skips a beat and I take a sharp inhale as I resume my walk.

He might be here in three days or fewer, and while part of me is rejoicing, tears sting my eyes and my nose itches while another part of me cowers. What will he think, knowing that his father has been…intimate with me? And what if Sergi continues his violent affections once Nik is back?

I feel bile stinging the back of my throat at the idea that Nik might be forced to be the one to hold me down while his father takes what he wants. I don’t think he’d do it, but then he’ll be in danger, his plans in jeopardy, his life at risk.

A shiver works down my spine at the questions that swirl around my mind. It’s not as simple as counting on Nik to get me out of this. The Shadows would be in danger again, Sergi would hunt me once more, and not to mention Nik putting himself in the firing line.

The sun disappears behind a cloud, and a part of me wants to sink into the damp earth and let it consume me. To just disappear so that there are no more questions, no more worries.

I don’t think I’ll ever truly be free of Sergi’s clutches, this obsession that he has, which even I don’t know the reason behind. Not if we’re both alive anyway. No, one of us will have to stop breathing for this torture to end.