When Kings Fall (The O’Sullivan’s Brides #3)

Prologue

ELLA

THE COLD CONCRETE under my hands penetrates my skin and worms its way into my veins. Small pebbles feel harsh against the sensitive area of my hands as I scramble up the steps. All I can focus on is two black wooden doors ahead of me.

Freedom , they scream.

My bare foot slips on the edge of a step in my haste to get away from the madness behind me. My chin takes the impact of my fall as it hits the concrete slab, but I don’t stop as a metallic taste fills my mouth. I need to reach those doors before he reaches me.

My palms cry out as I slam them repeatedly against the black doors, but they don’t budge. My frantic heart sends my temperature spiking, sending the cold that I briefly felt racing away. A sob I can’t keep down trembles on my lips before it forms fully. I blink, allowing the tears to fall as I push with my shoulder. Something shifts under me, and the smallest breeze that escapes the crack of the door has me pushing harder. With every ounce of strength I have, I manage to get the doors open and spring from the basement.

Grass still covered in dew blankets my feet as I race across the front lawn. I don’t dare look back; I don’t dare let that final image flood my mind. I want to scream for help; I want to beg someone to help me. But no one is around. Holding up my white bloodied nightgown, I continue my race for freedom across the lawn, which feels more like an endless meadow. The wind whips hair across my face, the feel of it is frozen and harsh against my skin.

My fingers dig into the wooden fence as I pull myself over it. The shouts from the house, along with lights being turned on along the porch, have my heart fluttering and my vision tinges with black along the edges. Dread pools in my stomach as I fear I might pass out. The shouts mingle along with the blood that pounds in my ears as I fall across the fence and onto a hard surface. My fingers race across the tarmac.

A road.

I’m on a road. Standing, I wobble as I spin around. More tarmac, more trees. My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, and I wonder when it was I last had something to drink. I can’t remember. My feet start to move again.

I freeze. The noise of someone coming has the blood running cold in my veins. My chin scrapes against the tarmac as I throw myself down on the ground. Fear is consuming me; something I can’t control, my vision blurs and wavers. Feet appear out onto the road. A whimper pulls at me, and I close my eyes tightly. Warm liquid rushes down my face.

He can’t see me. He can’t see me.

My skin crawls, and I’m too afraid to open my eyes. Another part of me wants to scream so this will end. I open my eyes slowly, and the feet race past me. My heart hammers in my chest as I wait for them to stop and come back, but they don’t. Another whimper leaves my chattering lips.

Get up, Ella.

Pushing myself up on shaky arms, I spring from the ditch and run in the opposite direction the other person went. My eyes shoot around the landscape as my mind tries to push the images back in front of me. Like a detective sliding a gruesome image in front of the murderer to make him crack.

He wanted me to break.

He wanted to break me.

My lungs burn as I race around a bend in the road. I don’t know how long I’ve been running for, but I haven’t seen a car. My mind won’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Thin red lips. I cover my mouth to keep the scream in, the scream that’s building inside me and wants out.

The noise of a vehicle cracks through my thoughts, and without slowing down, I throw my body to the left of the road, where most of the undergrowth is. My skin burns from the sharp thorns that pierce my skin and drink my blood.

As I lie still once again, the cold ground becomes comforting, reminding me that I’m out here and not in there with that monster.

The one blond curl wrapped in red. Stained in blood. I tighten my eyes as my mind tries to conjure the rest of the image.

Move, Ella.

I leave the road completely and start to run across an open field.

Help me .

My frantic mind won’t slow as my feet dig deep into the grass. I don’t remember how I got here, but when I stop and look up, I’m standing outside my house.

“Mam.” My lip trembles as my voice cries for my mother. My body shakes and dips like it’s giving up. I’m a yard from my own front door. A yard from my home.

“Mam,” I shout louder as I find the use of my legs and start to run.

“Mam.” My roar is said with a pounding heart. How long has it been—weeks, months, a year?

“Mam!” My fists hit the door. The overhead porch light burns my eyes from the darkness of the night.

When the door opens, I collapse to my knees at my mother’s feet.

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