Page 120 of Shattered Souls
“What are you talking about? We live here.”
Fuck me. He’s gone insane.
I look up at the house. It’s still as imposing as ever, a monument to the man who tried to break me. But I refuse to let it. I refuse to lethim.
“I made sure to purchase the house when my son so daringly sold it upon my incarceration.”
With Aurora perched on my hip, he begins dragging me up the steps to the front door, which opens for him. Walking into the house is like stepping into a time capsule. Everything is exactly as I remember it. The grand chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its crystal droplets sparkling in the dim light. The marble floors are polished to a mirror-like shine, and the sweeping staircase with its ornate wrought-iron railing curves gracefully up to the second floor. The portraits on the walls, the antique furniture, the grand piano in the corner of the room – it’s all exactly as it was. The air smells faintly of lilies, just as it always did, masking the underlying scent of fear that once permeated these walls.
I stall in the doorway, the weight of the past pressing down on me. Memories assault me from all sides, dragging me back to moments I thought I had buried deep.
The first time I saw Grayson flashes before my eyes. He was standing at the top of those stairs, looking down at us with a mixture of curiosity and reservation. I had felt so out of place, a stranger in this world of luxury and power. But there had been something in his eyes, a spark of something I couldn’t quite identify, that had given me hope.
Then, the darker memories creep in. I remember the constant fear that gripped me every time I walked through this door, never knowing if tonight would be a night Bertram would come or if I’d be lucky enough to be left alone. I remember how my heart would race, my palms sweating as I braced to step inside and close the door, effectively locking me into my fate.
And then that final day… Grayson, standing in the middle of this very foyer, his face a mask of fury and pain. “Get out of my house! I don’t want to see you again!” he had shouted at my mom and me after his father was arrested. The betrayal and hurt in his eyes had cut deeper than any wound Bertram had ever inflicted.
I bite down on my tongue until the taste of copper floods my mouth. I need the pain to ground myself. To stop the memories from sweeping me away. The weight of them is crushing, but I force myself to breathe. In and out. In and out. I’m not that scared girl anymore. I’m stronger now. I have to be, for Aurora. For the guys. For myself. For us—all of us. Our family.
Focusing on my breathing, I take a tentative step deeper into the house. My heart pounds in my chest. Everything is so painfully familiar, yet it feels like a lifetime ago. The house’s opulence is suffocating, a gilded cage that once held me prisoner.
The sound of the front door snicking shut has me whirling. Bertram stands there, watching us with an unhinged sort ofreverence that chills me to the core more than anything else in this mausoleum of a house. He’s smiling at us like we’re his whole world, and he’s the indisputable king.
“How nice is this?” he says, sounding nothing like the menacing man who stepped into the bathroom and grabbed my daughter. He holds his hands out to his sides, indicating the house. “Everything can finally be how it should.”
He moves closer, and I’m frozen in place, terrified of moving and setting him off. Standing over us, he cups my cheek. His touch burns like a brand. “My precious family.”
The possession that drips from his every word…
His gaze slides to Aurora, who clings to me like a spider monkey as she stares at him with terror. He either doesn’t notice or care as he smiles down at her, the expression more haunting than anything. “Why don’t you go put the little one to bed? You remember which room it is.” I shiver, and he seems to mistake my revulsion for something else as he smiles lovingly, like we’re sharing sweet memories. Stroking a finger down my cheek, he adds, “Then you can join me in mine.”
Nope. No. Abso-fucking-lutely not.
“It’s her first night in a strange house—strange bed,” I hedge, doing my best to keep my voice soft as I parse out the words in the way that’s most likely to get him to leave us the fuck alone. “She won’t settle by herself.” A flash of that anger darts across his irises, and I’m quick to add with an apologetic grimace, “She’ll just end up in with us.”
He definitely doesn’t want that. His lips purse, not pleased, but not enraged either.
“Fine,” he eventually relents before flashing me another one of those terrifying smiles. “Stay with her tonight. Tomorrow, you can explore the house and get her settled, and we’ll celebrate all of us finally being together with a special meal.”
I have to engage muscles I don’t typically use to force my lips upward into his desired response. “Sound’s perfect.” I nearly vomit.
With that same smile in place, he leans in, clearly intending to kiss me on the lips. I move my head at the last minute, and he catches my cheek. Thankfully, he lets it go. Not wanting to spend another moment in his presence, I hold Aurora close as I cross the foyer toward the stairs. “Oh, and Riley,” he calls after me. Like before, there’s an edge to his voice, which was all an act, and this is the real him. I pause but don’t dare to look back at him over my shoulder. Instead, I wait. “Don’t even think of trying to escape. I’ve got all the doors and windows sealed shut, and only I have a key for the front door. You cannot run this time.”
Trembling like a leaf, my heart is lodged in my throat, and I’m seconds away from vomiting as I haul ass up the stairs. Despite the distance I’m putting between us, every step is like trudging through sludge. An invisible tug pulls me forward, my body seeming to know where I need to go even as my mind revolts at the idea of stepping foot back inthere.
The hallway stretches before me, with its familiar cream carpet and white walls lined with portraits. About halfway down, my eyes lock on the white door, which appears so ordinary and so deceptively harmless.
But I know better.
The house is eerily quiet. Even my footsteps are muted on the thick carpet as I gingerly draw closer. The door seems to grow larger with every step I take, its plain surface mocking me with its normalcy. There are no visible signs of the horrors it conceals, no clue to the terror embedded in the wood. Regardless, I canfeelit. The fear and desperation of my younger self seeps into my bones, a cold, suffocating presence that clings to me.
I remember every detail of what happened behind that door. The late nights when the house was dark and silent, save for thecreaks and whispers that filled my head with dread. I remember how Bertram’s voice would cut through the silence, soft and terrifying. How I’d freeze, my body going cold with fear. The way he’d smile, a predator’s smile, as he slipped into my room. My bed. Every moment in his presence is designed to break me a little more.
My breathing grows shallow, the walls closing in around me as the memories press down like a physical weight. Needing a moment, I stop, hand flat to the wall to keep myself upright as I close my eyes and force deep, shuddering breaths into my lungs.
Still, that tug on my chest drags me closer.
I reach out with a trembling hand, fingers brushing against the door's cool, smooth surface. It’s like touching a live wire, and a jolt of fear shoots through me.
