Firethorne

Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Maya

I was freefalling.

Lost in immeasurable grief for my father and the realisation that I’d never get the closure I needed. That I’d never see him again. I knew visions of his final hours would haunt me forever. That, and the sickening image of him in that tree.

Why was there so much evil in this world?

Tears streamed down my face, and my body ached, wracked with the sobs I couldn’t hold in anymore. Losing him would always be an unbearable darkness, a weight that I’d feel inside my heart for the rest of my life.

And then there was Damien.

My warrior, my saviour.

It was all so unfair.

So fucking cruel.

We hadn’t even had the chance to live. To get to know each other on a deeper level that I knew we would’ve, given the chance. Because he was just like me, a reader, a thinker, a dreamer. Fate had put someone so perfect in front of me, given me a glimpse of what happiness looked like, then cruelly ripped him away.

Actually, it wasn’t fate that’d taken him. It was his bastard father. And I’d use my dying breath to make sure he paid for what he’d done.

When we reached Firethorne Manor, I was bundled out of the back of the van and carried into the house.

Beresford stalked up the stairs with me slung over his shoulder, veering towards Firethorne’s office when he got to the second floor.

Once inside, he threw me down at Firethorne’s feet, slamming me onto the ground without care. I hissed from the pain, curling myself into a ball, and then squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to look at them, these men that disgusted me, but when I heard a female voice, my eyes shot open.

“Why did you bring her back here?” Miriam sneered, wrinkling her nose as she stared down at me. “She doesn’t belong here.”

Miriam stood in front of the roaring fireplace, and next to her, with his head down, was Lysander.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Firethorne snapped. “But I brought her here because she owes this family a debt, and tonight, she’s going to pay.”

“Make her pay how? She doesn’t have any money,” Miriam scolded. “Look at her. She’s a mess.”

I wanted to rip the cable ties from my wrists and pounce on her like a tiger, with my claws ready to gouge her eyes out. She stood over me as if she was superior, when she was the worst kind of woman. A woman who stands by and lets the men around her hurt other women. Maybe she didn’t know the full extent of Firethorne’s business, but she wasn’t innocent. She wouldn’t do a damn thing to help me tonight.

And neither would Lysander.

He couldn’t even look at me.

“There are other ways to pay a debt, you know that all too well, Miriam,” Firethorne sneered. “And we don’t need more money.”

“Everyone needs more money,” Miriam purred. “And the amount we’ll get when she’s moved on to her new owner will be payment enough.”

My stomach rolled.

She knew.

That bitch fucking knew.

“Debts are about more than money,” Firethorne snapped. “She tried to double-cross us. She needs to learn that actions have consequences. Fuck with a Firethorne, and they fuck you harder.” He smiled at that last part, making my blood run cold.

And still, Lysander remained silent.

He had to know, too.

He had to have been a part of all this.

I wanted to scream at him. Ask him if he had anything to say after deceiving and betraying me the way he had. But I knew, even if I could speak to call him out, he wouldn’t say anything. He really was as vapid as I thought he was when I first met him, only he was worse. He was spiteful and vindictive, too. Totally and utterly shameless. He had to be implicit in what his father was doing, because he was just standing there, not doing a thing to help me. He couldn’t care less.

“Shall we get things started?” Firethorne asked, leaning across his desk to pick up a knife. But he put it back down when his son spoke up.

“I don’t think we should stay for this part,” Lysander announced, glancing nervously at Miriam. Ever the coward, he wanted to leave me to the mercy of his evil father.

Firethorne turned to face him with a look of disgust.

“On the contrary,” Firethorne replied. “I think you should stay. She tricked you, too. You’re owed a pound of flesh, or however much you want to take. It’s open season tonight. At midnight, she’ll be on her way to The Butcher, but until then, we get to have all the fun.”

The Butcher.

That name sent a chill down my spine, and I grunted through the tape over my mouth, yanking on the ties at my wrists and kicking out with my feet.

“Ah.” Firethorne smiled down at me, the kind of smile that would make a devil cry. “You’re familiar with The Butcher then?” He leant down to stare right in my face. “You know what lies ahead for you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, wishing he’d self-combust and take the place reserved for him in hell.

“Remember what he is and how much worse it’s going to get for you when you’re paying our debt tonight,” he went on. “It might help you survive to see the morning. Let that survival instinct kick in. Or not. I couldn’t care either way.”

There was a commotion outside in the hallway, and they all turned their attention to the door as it suddenly burst open. My heart shattered into a million pieces at what I saw, but I also felt the smallest glimmer of hope.

There, flanked by two huge men who were holding him in place as he kicked and fought against them, was Damien.

His face was badly swollen, blood running from his nose. His eyes were barely open, and blood poured from a cut above his eyebrow.

But I could tell he wasn’t broken.

He was stronger than that.

Firethorne stiffened, clearly bothered by the fact that Damien was fighting so hard, and he stood tall as he announced proudly, “So glad you could finally join us, son ,”

Damien turned to face him, and that’s when he saw me.

Every muscle in his body tensed and he clenched his jaw, spitting and cursing as he thrashed even harder against the men restraining him.

“I thought you’d be dead by now,” Firethorne went on. “But maybe this has worked in our favour. Now you get to see what happens when you fuck me over.”

“Fuck you.” Damien spat at him from across the room, but Firethorne just laughed.

“Did you really think you’d get away with it? That I wouldn’t find out what you were doing?” He shook his head. “I might’ve acted like I trusted you, but I didn’t. I don’t trust anyone. I had multiple people tracing your online activity, Damien . I bugged every room you’ve ever been in, tracked your car, your phone, all of it. You thought you could outsmart me, destroy my whole business, but you were wrong. I told you, I’m always one step ahead. But in your case, it was a mile.”

Damien hissed, spitting blood on the floor as he continued to try and break free of the men’s grasps.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” he snarled at his father. And then he looked at me, and that fury exploded, evolving into a visceral, palpable force that engulfed the room. “You’re a fucking dead man.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving threats, do you?” Firethorne sneered. Then he reached down to run his rancid finger along my cheek, grinning as Damien spat and swore, bucking against his captors. “Maybe you should stay here and watch the fallout of your actions. It’s going to be a good show.” Evilness shrouded him as he added, “But let’s make one thing clear... the only one doing any killing around here, will be me.”

Damien thrashed in the men’s hold as he shouted, “Get your fucking hands off her. I swear, if you fucking touch her again, I’ll break your fucking neck.”

“Oh, I’m going to do more than touch her,” Firethorne threatened, taking the knife from the desk and holding it up to fuck with Damien and strike more fear into my heart. “I can’t wait for you to see how creative I can get. Do you think The Butcher came up with those moves all on his own?” He shook his head and made a tsk sound. “No. He learnt from the best.”

Damien let out a feral, animalistic scream that pierced my heart. And as the hopelessness of our reality hit him, his knees buckled, and he whispered pleas that went unheard as the men yanked him back up to stand.

Firethorne was cackling, and Miriam grinned wickedly as her fucked up uncle knelt beside me on the floor.

“Do you want me to pin her down?” Miriam asked. “Like I’ve done with the others, while you?—”

She didn’t get chance to finish.

“I don’t want him here,” Lysander butted in, cutting through the fear-laced atmosphere with his grave urgency. “Get rid of him. Now.”

Firethorne stood back up and tilted his head as he regarded his eldest son curiously.

“ Why ?”

Lysander puffed his chest out, dominance radiating from him as he replied, “Don’t you think you owe me this, at least, after all the times I’ve stood by you? You said I could have my pound of flesh, but I don’t want him here while I take it. I don’t want to see his face ever again.”

Firethorne took a minute, and I was sure he’d tell Lysander to go to hell, but he didn’t. He just nodded.

“Fine. I suppose I could video it and make him watch it after.” And he gestured for the men to leave and take Damien with them.

Damien protested, fighting against them with everything he had as they dragged him out of the room, shouting and hollering threats that he knew he was powerless to act on.

But as I glanced back at Lysander, it wasn’t hate and revenge I saw reflected back at me, but a sadness and resignation that seemed to say, ‘I know I can’t do much, but the least I could do was save you the degradation and shame of having to go through whatever you’re about to go through without him seeing it.’

His weakly heroic act was too little, too late.

But it was something.

“Thank you,” Lysander said to his father. But then he turned to Miriam, and they began to exchange strange glances, as if they were holding their own muted conversation. They knew what the other wanted to say without having to saying a word.

Mr Firethorne was oblivious to them, though, and he cleared his throat, stating, “Let’s get this started then, shall we?” But Miriam interrupted him.

“Could Lysander and I be excused? For now. We’ll be back, but we have some unfinished business we need to attend to first.”

I could see the apprehension in her face. She didn’t want to provoke Firethorne, but she wanted to support Lysander in whatever they’d agreed in their silent exchange.

“What unfinished business? What could be more important than this?” Firethorne bit back, and falling eloquently into her temptress mode, Miriam fluttered her eyelashes at him and purred, “Nothing is more important. I’d just like some alone time with Lysander. All this violence and talk of revenge has me feeling a certain way.”

Firethorne’s knowing grin made my stomach roll.

“You never change,” he told her. “But come back here once you’re done. You know how horny I get after a bit of torture.”

I wanted to throw up.

This family were beyond fucked up.

They made me sick.

Miriam nodded sweetly, almost bowing to him, and without giving me a second glance, the two of them backed out of the room, leaving me alone with the devil in front of his roaring fire.