Firethorne

Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Maya

T hey didn’t even bother to drug me this time. Whoever it was that’d jumped me and shoved the sack over my head put me in a headlock and squeezed my throat. I clawed and scratched at their arm, fighting for my life, my legs kicking out to try and take them down. But it became impossible to breathe, and as deadly stars danced in front of my eyes, I slipped away, falling unconscious into the arms of my captor.

I don’t know how long I was out for, but when I came to, I was lying on the cold metal floor of what appeared to be some sort of van. It stank of oil and paint, and the engine roared as it sped across uneven terrain, throwing my body around. I had to brace myself as best I could with my wrists and ankles bound together, and I could already feel the pain in my body from where I’d been knocked about while I was unconscious. My mouth was taped shut but I still cried out, using my muffled screams and banging my feet against the floor to fight back.

It was no use, though.

There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the back of the van with me.

Whoever had taken me, and I had a pretty good idea who it was, they were up front, driving me back to the hell I thought I’d escaped.

I heard the whip and crack of branches against the side of the van as we drove at speed, twisting and turning, bumping along the roads. And then, the van began to slow down and eventually stopped. The engine continued to run as the driver opened his door then slammed it shut.

I didn’t know whether to play dead or prepare to attack when the rear doors opened.

I couldn’t decide how to play this.

I didn’t know the best way.

Maybe there wasn’t a best way.

I just had to do whatever I could to survive.

So, I opted for silence, lying still as the back door creaked open and cool air rushed in, gracing my skin with the kiss of death.

I kept my breaths shallow, barely moving as I braced myself for what was about to happen. I sensed the floor dipping as the driver climbed up into the back of the van. Then rough hands grabbed my arms as a vile, gruff voice rasped, “Don’t pretend to be asleep. I heard you banging just now.”

He pulled me into a sitting position and then ripped the sack from my head. I squinted as a bright torch was shone into my eyes.

“Welcome home, Maya,” Firethorne said, and he moved the torch to shine it on the woodland floor, giving my eyes some relief.

He was standing outside the van, smiling at me like I was a long-lost relative who’d come back to the family fold. And beside me, Beresford kicked out at my legs, telling me, “I always knew you’d be trouble. You won’t fuck us over again, though, will you?”

“She won’t get the chance,” Firethorne shot back. “She’s about to find out what happens when you double-cross a Firethorne.”

He stepped to the side and moved the torch to shine it into the dark woods, and as he did, the bottom dropped out of my world.

I felt sick.

I tried to turn my head, so I didn’t have to look as tears began to flow down my cheeks, but Beresford knelt behind me and held my head, forcing me to see.

And there, in the trees, swinging from the noose Lysander had shown me, was my father. His face was swollen and blue, his eyes bulging, his neck was broken, and so was my heart.

I closed my eyes, sobbing with my whole chest, but that image was seared into my brain, reflecting back at me from behind my eyelids. An image that’d haunt me forever.

Beresford grabbed my face, trying to force my eyes open, scratching me as he did, but I refused to look for a second longer.

Firethorne’s laugh cackled in my ears.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Firethorne goaded. “He did try to save you. The fool thought he could take the money and the prize. Run away with you to somewhere safe. But that was never going to happen. So I gave him the ending he deserved, as a traitor to this family. And soon, there’ll be another body taking his place for that same crime.”

Beresford cackled in my ear as I tensed, knowing they meant me.

“Oh, not you,” Firethorne announced, like he’d read my thoughts. “You’ll get what’s coming to you, but this won’t be your final resting place, sweetheart . Oh no. I meant your little plaything. My bastard son. Damien.”

The fear and visceral grief I was drowning in multiplied, and I slumped forward, feeling physical pain at the thought of what he was saying.

“That’s right,” he said, his voice brimming with scorn and revulsion. “He’s here. Well, his body is. After the beatings and torture we’ve given him today, I doubt he’s still alive.”

Beresford huffed his pleasure as he stood up, then kicked out, knocking me back to the floor.

“Drive her back up to the house,” Firethorne instructed. “We’ll take it from there.”

I watched through watery, heartbroken eyes as Beresford jumped back off the van and slammed the doors shut, locking me back into the darkest hell I’d ever known.