Page 80 of Black Hearts
We made it to the basement level, turning out of the stairwell and into the long, ever-expansive hallway that I’d seen in my nightmares many times. Before the third cell block on the left, Markus stood with someone I didn’t recognize, but I was able to piece it together: Rave, the one who’d watched my father for a while, the one who Jaxon got to watch him as a favor to him after Johnathan Scott came and handed me over.
I owed Rave my life, because if he hadn’t been watching, Jaxon and the others would never have been alerted to the fact that my father had taken off.
The moment we entered the hall, whatever conversation Markus and Rave were having halted, and Markus turned to face me. He wore a suit, much like he always did, his black hair a little messy. Thick stubble lined his square jaw, and those black eyes of his instantly saw I wore Bennet’s shirt. He frowned at me, but it wasn’t a deep frown, not nearly the level of scowl I was used to getting from him.
I stopped when I stood directly before Markus, and he was sluggish in stepping aside and gesturing to Rave. “This is Rave,” he introduced us. “He is the one to thank for fetching your worthless father.”
My gaze shifted to Rave, who had moved to stand beside Markus. He was just as tall as Markus, perhaps an inch or so shorter, but he had the same black hair and eyes. He wasn’t as muscular as Markus, but he was just as intimidating—though I was sure the tattoos I spotted on his skin helped with that. I could easily see the resemblance between Rave, Markus, and Lincoln. They had to share the same mother, full-blooded brothers.
“Juliet,” Rave spoke my name with a smile, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. “Glad to see you’re up and about now.” I’d put him younger than Markus and Lincoln, maybe in his late twenties. “You’re cute.”
Out of all of the things I’d expected him to say, that wasn’t it, and I felt myself blushing in response. Meanwhile, Markus had turned to him, his powerful scowl back as he glared at his brother. In fact, I think everyone around us, minus me, glared at Rave after he said that.
Rave shrugged. “What? It’s true. Look at her. In that oversized shirt, how am I not—”
He stopped the moment Markus shot out a hand and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He was jerked closer to him as he growled out, “Shut the fuck up, Rave.” Markus reining in his jealousy was only for Theo, Will, Jaxon, and Bennet, apparently. If anyone else dared to look at me or comment on my appearance, he was instantly ready to snap some bones.
I would’ve laughed, if things were different and I didn’t know my father was in the adjacent room.
“Sheesh,” Rave rolled his eyes when Markus let him go. “Calm down, brother. I’m not going to steal her away from you, and I’m not going to ask to be a part of—” He gestured to Theo, Will, and Jaxon behind me. “—whatever this is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go have a smoke break and see what’s in the kitchen.” He grinned and pushed past Markus. He didn’t stop when he went by me, but I did see him check me out one more time.
As he went, Markus muttered, “He should be glad he found your father, otherwise I would not have let that go.”
Rave disappeared in the stairwell the exact same moment Bennet appeared. Bennet sidestepped him after giving him a nod of his head, and then he strolled down the hall to meet us. His blue eyes flicked between us, and he asked, “What?”
Will bristled. “Rave thinks Juliet is cute.”
Bennet apparently didn’t see the big deal, for he was slow to say, “Okay?” When he noticed the level of everyone else’s glare, the sheer testosterone oozing out of them in waves, he added, “What the fuck does it matter if Rave thinks Juliet is cute or not? It ain’t like she’s going to fucking fall in love with him and ask to bring him into this thing.” He glanced at me. “You’re not, right?”
“No,” I hurried to say.
“Good. Then all this is stupid and fucking pointless. Can we move on?”
Theo spoke up, “I’m in agreement. As much as you can try, you will never be able to stop others from looking at Juliet and thinking she’s beautiful.”
“Want to bet?” Will asked, cracking his knuckles, like he wanted to get into a fight right here, right now.
I went to stand between Will and Theo. “Stop.”
Markus turned to look in the window. “Yes, we are here for other things.” He extended a hand out to me, and once I was sure they wouldn’t break out into a fight, I moved to take it. He held onto it, his fingers intertwining with mine as we stood there, staring inside the room through the square window.
All of the rooms in this long, winding basement were the same. Sterile white tiles on the floor and walls. A single window beside the door with a small button near it so you could speak inside through a microphone. Otherwise, the rooms were soundproof. A chair situated in the center of the room, a counter on the side, where sharp, shiny utensils sat, torture devices of all kinds.
My father was fastened to the chair, his ankles and wrists held down with thick leather straps. The strap that was meant to go around his neck to hold it back was undone, probably because everyone knew he wouldn’t be getting out of his.
None of the times I’d been in this basement or seen what went on in it had been good. Each had been horrible, the memories in my head awful, anxiety-inducing ones. This time was no different, because I was well aware this was the last time I’d ever see my father.
Daddy. The name didn’t fit anymore. Even thinking it made me want to throw up.
Markus’s voice was quiet, but it held a deadly timbre I recognized all too well by now, “I take it by coming, you want to talk to him?” His large, rough hand squeezed mine as he watched me stare at my father.
My father’s eyes were closed. I didn’t know if he was awake or not.
“I think I have to,” I whispered. “I think I need to, to put it to rest.” Shut the door on my past for the last time, lock it away, someplace where I’d never have to think about it again. No more nights spent alone, wondering what it would be like to live for myself. No more tearful apologies to my father for acting out or wanting to do something, in his words, whorish, like colored nail polish.
Nail polish. I know. In the scheme of things, I should’ve known how wrong it was. I should’ve tried to run away. Go to the police. Do something. But when you were a child, you couldn’t help it. Being groomed, being taught that he was the only person in this world who would keep you safe… you tended to believe everything you were told.
Markus let go of my hand, and I went to the door, pausing for only a moment before gathering myself and heading inside the small room. The torture chamber. The killing room. It’s what these rooms were used for, and my father would be no different.
