Page 4 of A Light in the Darkness
God, I hate him. And I hate Remy for forcing him to follow me around like a brooding, mopey puppy. Except Moose is neither cute nor cuddly. That’s not to say he’s bad-looking, obviously. Rhea has been lusting after him since the moment he showed up on our doorstep.
Where Remy is refined, Moose is rough. Where Remy is sophisticated, Moose is low-brow. I suppose it’s easy to look like Remy does when respect is already given to him. A man like Moose probably had to earn it, and though I don’t like him, I figure he probably thought if he looked more intimidating, people would treat him like he was.
He’s lean but dangerous with more muscles than brains. Everything below his chiseled jaw is covered in tattoos. They’re the kind that you expect to see on middle-aged men who’ve had time to acquire them, but by all accounts, he seems to be about the same age as Rhea and me. He raises a lot of eyebrows on campus thanks to his take-no-prisoners attitude and body art, but no one ever seems to question his age. He also has no interest in getting to know me, so I can’t exactly ask him how long he’sknown Remy. I mean, I could, but he wouldn’t answer. He doesn’t tell me anything about himself, including whether his name is really Moose, or if maybe he’s Canadian, or if maybe that was just a fond nickname from a certain king of hell.
I also can’t ask Remy. We haven’t talked since the day I flew home… the day he fucked me like a whore, threw me over the side of his boat, and told me there was no future for us. And then he drove me to the airport, walked me all the way to my gate, and watched me board the plane. That was the end of ‘us’. We were never a couple, so there was technically never an ‘us’, butwhateverhad been between us just ended in that instant.
Except, it hasn’t. He still owns more of me than I think even I do. He occupies my thoughts, infiltrates my dreams. The scars on my body that weren’t even left by him are claimed by him, and when I need release, my freaking orgasms are his, too. It’s maddening, particularly because he made me feel like he didn’t care about me that last day we were together. But then he went and hired a bodyguard to shadow me, so he either cares about me in some stupid way, or he wants to know he’s torturing me. Either way, it’s not exactly like I’m in a good position to reach out to him… especially because I’mtryingto get him out of my head.
On that plane ride home, when Senator Massarini blocked me into my seat, I’d thought it was all over. I was certain he’d stab me with whatever they used when Jovich abandoned me to Wes’ men, that he’d drag me off the plane to some sort of underground dungeon where I’d never see the light of day again. Instead, he did a lot of talking and asked me a lot of random questions, and when we parted ways, he shook my hand like that entire interaction hadn’t been weird… like we really were just two strangers on a plane.
When there was a knock on my door hours after I got back to my apartment, I thought maybe he’d just waited for me to let my guard down, that he was coming to snatch me from a less crowded place than an airport. But it was Dimitri, who the Boudreaux’s had sent to keep an eye on me. Rhea was, predictably, upset when I flewhome without her. But she stayed with her brother long enough to wrap up some business with the family assets and whatever rich people do.
It was a shock, but it was nice to see him, especially because he confirmed that when I’d been with Wes and Remy, he and Rhea had gone to have my birth control tested. Unsurprisingly, thatwasthe culprit. Only some of the pills had been replaced, likely so that it would be harder to detect when I died if someone started poking around. Also unsurprisingly, I haven’t been poisoned since getting back home. Dimitri said there were no prints other than mine and his from when I gave it to him, which was a step I hadn’t expected him to take, but clearly, someone had. I’m still fairly certain that despite how everything unraveled between us, Remy didn’t mean it quite so literally when he told me he had been poisoning me.
My money is still on Elaine.
It was awkward at first, and then it was comforting, having Dimitri around. But when Rhea came home, it went right back to being awkward until Remy called him back to Costa Rica and sent Moose and Eli as his replacements. We didn’t realize they were anything more than our new neighbors—until they started following us everywhere. When Rhea first found out, she called her brother. I could hear her yelling from across the apartment. But whatever excuse he gave her, it must have satisfied her at least a little bit, because she reluctantly came to accept it.
Of course, it doesn't hurt that Eli, whom Remy had ordered to keep watch over her, is attractive and far better tempered than Moose. A small part of me wonders if that was by design and if he’s trying to keep me from developing an attachment to someone who spends so much time with me. More likely than not, he just didn't want Rhea to get attached to a man like Moose. But still, I have to wonder why he’s going to such great lengths. If someone were coming for me, surely, they would have done so by now. I was sold to some anonymous bidder almost a yearago, and we were warned many times that someone would come for me. And yet, no one ever has.
What no one knows is that I’m not sitting around waiting for someone to come for me.
I’m going to come for them. Because I’m not a fucking doe.
Chapter three
Remy
I almost wish Michael would open his mouth and start spouting some bullshit. The quiet is unsettling, sinking into my bones and setting my teeth on edge. No one says anything as we converge, clearing each room of the ground floor along the way. Doors fly open, but no one shrieks, no one cries, no shots are fired. The house is so damn empty I don’t think so much as a roach has come into the place since whoever left it last.
It feels like a tomb, and though no one says as much, we’re all thinking it. I can tell by the tension in the air, the feeling of desolation we’re all sharing. I’ve put months into gathering the right team for this, and now it feels like a mistake. I should have come here, guns blazing, right after I knew Claire was safe. I should have been more urgent in trying to fulfill my promise to Davos.
But I know the home isn’t the only part of this place. There’s also the cellar—the cages, the computers where they keep records of their dealings, the surgical suite. There’s so much more right under our feet, and while I’m smart enough to know it’s all likely been cleared out, too, I am also stupid enough to hope.
When we step into the hidden elevator, Rook shakes his head in awe. “Fucking rich people.”
I don’t pay attention to who laughs.
The power to the house hasn’t been shut off, so we cram into the elevator and descend into the depths of Hell. I steady my breaths, taking shallow ones through my nose.
No one knows what happened the last time I was here. At least, none of the guys at my back. They know only what I’ve told them,which is that this is where they keep their victims. And what a group of people I’ve pulled together, all willing to believe me on word alone, brazenly following me through the gates of hell for the chance to right someone else’s wrongs.
When the silver doors open, the first thing I notice is the smell. It hits us square in the face, a wall of decay that pushes us back into the elevator as Michael, Rich, and Rook devolve into a coughing, gagging mess.
“What is that?” Someone cries from over my shoulder. I don’t turn to see who it was, and I don’t bother answering.
My hands are sweaty against the gun, which I hold steady before me, despite the fact that I know I won’t need it down here. I can tell before I even step my first foot over the elevator that if there’s anyone down here, they’re not going to be any kind of threat to us.
The biometric scanner and lock have been disabled, thanks to Dimitri, and the big steel door that separated the cages from the rest of the space has been left ajar without the security measures in place. Beyond the door is dark, but as we walk, the space ahead of us illuminates with canned light, and the faint flickering sound echoes through the empty hall around us.
“Stay sharp,” Kent warns, though he knows as well as I do that what we are smelling is decomposition. Death.
There isn’t a chance in hell someone is hiding in there subjecting themselves to that smell if they don’t have to.
“If you find any survivors, get them out immediately. No questions asked, no fucking around.”
Again, nobody says anything.
