Page 4 of Queen of Madness

My chest aches as she presses her forehead into my shoulder, a sob working through her body. No matter what happens, I’m getting my heart out of this fucked-up place, even if it means my death.

I turn back to Sam, who has a smug smirk curling what little lips he has. For a moment, I entertain the idea of how easy it would be to snap his neck and toss him over anyway.

But the thought passes the more Fiona presses into me, so I give him the answer he’s waiting on. “Okay.”

Isn’t it funny how at first glance, something can appear so charming, so perfect, you take it for face value and trust it for everything it shows you? But as time moves forward, you get a feeling you can’t ignore and find yourself brave enough to look closer—just a little deeper. It’s then you see the vile, hideous truth just beneath the surface.

That’s Sherwood Valley.

To the passersby, we are the gorgeous, picturesque city next to Seattle, full of authentic shops, hidden neighborhoods inside lush forests, and abundant with nature’s beauty. Most of my childhood was spent skipping rocks across lakes, chasing after Fi along the side of creeks, and climbing trees with friends until we were too weak to hold on to the limbs.

All the other shit going on in our lives didn’t matter when we were out there—only the fresh air riddled with moss, and the stars giving us the light we needed to make it home. Time seemed as if it was slow between the trees. It was almost as though it didn’t want to move too fast and force us to grow up, knowing its forests would be void of our laughter.

And for some time, I’d almost go so far as to say thingswereperfect, but when the inevitable happened, I got older, and it became clearer to see what had been blurred in my youthful innocence.

In the center of our paradise was a thick black line, separating ownership of the entire west bank of Washington, continuing its trek right through the middle of our city. And without the veil covering my eyes, it became easier to see when I crossed into either side’s territory.

Hell, it would be to anyone who examined us further than face value. But too many people are content with their ignorant bliss, and the local news only polishes our existence by leaving out the brutal reports of murder done by both sides. I assume since citizens never get caught in the mix, they find it unimportant to tell people about the secret blood war taking place throughout the city.

A war that was started from the infamous Onyx Embros not wanting the Murphy’s trafficking women. Rumors say she had her people stop any vans that crossed into her region on the way to the ports, and had the drivers butchered in the street. Then the Murphy’s coerced new recruits, some as young as high school, to work for them and find ways to sneak girls across.

The whole thing was and is fucked up, but all I had time to worry about was keeping Fiona safe and away from any Murphy fucker.

Looks like I did a bang-up job…

Anger swells in my gut as my thoughts steer toward my mother—another woman I was meant to protect and failed miserably. Now, she’s nothing but a shell of her former self thanks to these fuckingfamilieswho decided it was okay to ruin her to make a quick buck.

I couldn’t save my mother; I won’t make the same mistake with Fi.

I check the car dash for the time as I listen to the GPS guide me to the bar. I’m doing my best to focus on something other than my deep-set disgust with the fact I’m about to be working for the Murphy family, but the conversation from the roof steeps in my head.

“So, I’ll be working as one of Onyx’s bodyguards and reporting back to you with information?” My mind soaks in everything Sam just told me.

He wasn’t lying when he said my sister and I had gotten lucky. Fiona’s good deed put our lives in the hands of the Murphy’s as soon as she let their shipment of women walk free. But Sam says our only saving grace was the fact I’m “Onyx’s type.” Whatever the fuck that means. Combine that information with the miracle of not having any priors, and no affiliation to either side, I’m to become a double agent of sorts—working in Embros’ territory while giving Onyx’s every secret to the Murphys.

No matter how this shit ends, I’m a dead man. I just need to stay alive long enough to make sure my family gets released from the Murphy’s clutches.

“So you want me to just walk into a bar, find a manic looking redhead and ask to work for Onyx? What the fuck kind of a plan is that?” I throw up my hands. “I’d be dead the second I said hello.”

Sam wipes his forehead with the handkerchief I want to choke him with. It’d be so fucking easy. “Well, no shit. You’re just going to go to the damn bar, order a drink, and wait.”

The light turns green, prompting me to turn my beat-up Chevy on a street that opens into the Embros’ territory. Along the main strip are bars, restaurants, sports clubs and other nightlife, all bustling with Saturday night business. Scattered among the people barhopping are bodyguards outside each door. Nothing outside of the ordinary, except the small red heart on the left cuff of their suits.

“The dumbasses are so proud of their affiliation with Embros, they wear a literal heart on their sleeves. Makes them so fucking easy to target and kill.” He mutters the last part more to himself than to me before clearing his throat. “Now, just remember, no one is going to know you. You’re just another guy. You act like it, and no one will be the wiser. You start looking skittish and shit, they’ll know something’s up,” Sam reiterates for the third time for me to just act cool. The more he spouts off, the more I’m coming to realize he’s more nervous than me. Almost as if he’s depending on this.

“In twenty feet, your destination is on the right.” The feminine robotic voice directs me straight to the bar. It’s a corner spot, tucked behind tall, skinny trees lining the sidewalk. The deep red brick runs along either side of the massive black doors, with two massive knockers in the middle.

There’re no windows, no line to get inside, and the only streetlight right outside is flickering. Strange, considering the whole strip is upscale, and is illuminated under not only the lamps but string lights that run across both sides of the street.

Since the moment I met Sam, till I left the roof, never once was I afraid or had nerves find me. But now, as Rabbit Hole Bar draws closer, reality sets in.

I can’t fuck this up. If I do, it’s not just me who pays the price. A grim type of seriousness weighs heavy on my shoulders, ripping the delicate edges of my calm exterior. My knuckles bloom white as I grip the steering wheel, pulling into the parking garage behind the building.

When I get out of my car, the door leaves my slick hands too quickly, and the resounding slam echoes through the stillness. My steps are cumbersome, almost as if they’re stilted by the consequences of failure.

Each few feet I tread takes longer than it should, and by the time I reach the entrance, no air I pull in is enough.

I picture my sister fawning over the puppies in the alley, her wide hazel eyes full of that hope she’s always carrying. She only saw the good deed, the happiness in the little tails wagging as they consumed their dinner. Her light is all that matters now, and I use it to force my final steps toward the door.

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