Page 2 of Colton
That tracks.
“You’re the new maid?” she asks, eyeing me up and down.
I swallow, pushing all connections to my old self deep inside and drawing up the well-practiced timid smile I’d spent the last month perfecting. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Mary,” I say, lowering my eyes as if I have no backbone.
“I see. Follow me,” she instructs curtly before turning on her heel.
I hesitate for a second before stepping inside the house and instantly feel the darkness of the manor embrace me. Empty chandeliers sway gently from the ceiling as though stirred by invisible winds. Paintings of ancestors line the walls, their hollowed eyes following my every step. There is something more than just a sense of old money here. It oozes darkness, as if evil was built into the very foundation.
I shudder.
My heart beats faster in my chest the deeper we walk into its core. I can almost hear Sophia’s whisper, her warning before this all began.
Darkness brings ruin in so many ways, little sister.
This was my ruin.
But I won’t lose myself to it, not yet. That comes later.
The woman introducesherself as Mrs. Wilkens, and it’s only after an agonizing hour that she gives me instructions regarding my duties, along with a boring tour of the mansion.
Tomorrow will be my first real day, but the weight of what stands before me now feels so tiny in comparison to the lifetime of planning and waiting that it had taken to get here. My mind, worn with memories of what Xavier Blackwood did—his cruelty, his delight in breaking Sophia—fuels my rage.
I allow myself a small smile. Tomorrow, I’ll be in his space. I will clean his rooms and touch every surface he claims as his own. I’ll be both invisible and omnipresent in his home, biding my time, getting closer every day to the inevitable.
I always imagined revenge would feel electric—lightning sparking through my veins—but standing here, staring at the reality of what I have committed to, the sensation that takes over is quietly insidious. Darkness settles over me, slow and seeping like a fog creeping across neglected lands under a blood moon.
A sense of foreboding weaves itself so tightly around me that I can hardly breathe.
It’s happening, and it’s fucking exhilarating.
I’m tired of being the girl who runs and hides. It’s time I came to the surface, bringing my demons with me. The sad reality is that I have nothing to lose and everything to gain, so I fear nothing and no one.
The hum of danger beneath the surface of the house thrums in the walls, waiting to reveal itself. Tomorrow, it will begin. Tomorrow, I’ll step closer to Xavier Blackwood.
I wrap my fingers around the handle of the rag in my pocket, embracing my new identity and role.
By the end of this...
I will leave this place in ashes.
Chapter 2
Colton
This fucking house and I have a love-hate relationship most would envy. It is a living, breathing beast, its shadows stretching like claws across the cold floors. I stand at the study window, watching the rain lash against the glass, each droplet echoing the chaos inside me. This place, my inheritance, my prison, is a constant reminder of the legacy I never wanted but have. The weight of the Blackwood name is a shackle I can’t shake off.
My dad, Xavier Blackwood, is a monster cloaked in human skin. His abuse has left scars on this family that time can never heal. Mom’s death was just the beginning of his tyranny. I was too young to protect her, too weak to stop him. Now, I’m a mirror of his cruelty, a reflection of his darkness. I’ve learned to wear the mask—stone-cold indifference, hollow smiles—but deep down, I know I’m just as broken as the shattered glass littering the floor from his last tantrum.
“You’re the same as me, boy,” he’d sneered, belt in hand. “Yet you dare to fucking question me?”
I should’ve fought back. I should have gotten that belt and wrapped it around his fucking throat until the cunt turned blue.But I didn’t. I never do. Because despite everything, he’s still my dad, and I’m still the coward who can’t stand up to him.
Imagine if the guys knew the extent of the bullshit I put up with living with this fucking imbecile.
They’d probably laugh and say I deserve it, and I guess I do. I’ve done everything that bastard has asked of me—never having a choice.
I pour myself a drink, the amber liquid burning my throat as I down it in one go. It’s a shit attempt to numb the pain, to silence the voices in my head that whisper how I’m no better than him. I’ve inherited his darkness, his rage, his cruelty. I see it in the way I treat others and the way I push people away.
