Denouement (The Darkness Series Book 3) (16 page)

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” West said, shaking his head in an attempt to clear the vision of the body from his mind. “Rosie Jenkins. She was a real sweet lady. She didn’t deserve what this fuck did to her.”

Brady cleared his throat. “Uh, we have,” he revealed, gesturing at Sam and himself. “We’ve seen something exactly like this before unfortunately. Your killer has just developed a lust for blood. This has just gotten a helluva lot worse.”

G
wyn let out
a strangled scream as Lawrence’s fist flew at her, connecting with her jaw in a sickening crunch. She felt her lip split and the bitter taste of blood filled her mouth. “Fucking bitch. Living here in this fucking house. You thought you could leave me?” His hands dug into the fleshy part of her upper arms; his fingertips cutting into her cruelly.

“No. No, I—I—I was coming back,” she stammered out. Every part of her body was alive with terror. How did he find her? He was in a full on rage, she knew from past experience that when he was in that mood there was no reasoning with him. Still she had to try if she wanted to get away from him in one piece.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, you fucking cunt!” He grabbed her left hand and shoved it into her face. “What the fuck is this then, huh?” he spit out, focusing on her ring. “Wearing another man’s fucking ring on your finger but saying you’re coming back to me? You really are a useless fucking whore.” He ripped the ring from her finger and threw it across the room as Gwyn watched in horror as it bounced off the wall and disappeared under the couch.

“No,” she whispered before she could stop herself, cringing when Lawrence’s face turned beet red. His hand met her cheek in a thunderous slap, knocking her onto the floor. He was on her in an instant, his booted foot connecting with her ribs viciously over and over. She screamed and cried, throwing her arms up to protect her face as he kept up his punishment.

“Lawrence, stop!” she yelled. Gwyn managed to gain some traction and scooted away from him. She knew she had to keep her wits about her. The only way to survive these moments with Lawrence was out outsmart him. She needed to find her courage and not slip back into the days when she was nothing but a doormat. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to be the canvas for Lawrence’s issues and she’d be damned if she was dragged back into hell with him after she’d fought so hard to break free. To let the person she really was shine through.

He ignored her pleas and advanced on her again, unbuckling his belt with each step. Seeing this, Gwyn’s eyes widened in fear. Her face throbbed, her ribs were on fire, protesting at the mistreatment. Lawrence pulled his belt through the last loop in one swoop.

“Tell me to stop. You don’t fucking tell me what to do. You don’t fucking say a word to me. I ought to cut out your lying tongue,” he seethed. Gwyn gained her feet and ran, ignoring the searing agony in her ribs with each step. Anything to get away from him and that belt. The bedroom. If she could just reach the bedroom she could lock the door and call Brady for help.

She was halfway up the stairs when he caught her. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled, she teetered for a moment before she lost her balance and fell—a scream ripping from her throat. The impact of the hardwood stairs felt like a bat hitting her. She rolled and bumped along all the way down the staircase, landing in a heap at the bottom. Dazed, she didn’t dare move a muscle for fear of what may or may not have been broken.

Her gaze was locked on Lawrence as he descended, slapping his belt on the palm of his hand. She knew what was coming and fuck, it was going to hurt like hell.

“Get up,” he ordered her, stopping a few feet from where she lay. She shook her head, she couldn’t move. Surely he must see how injured she was.

“Get up NOW,” he repeated. Whimpering, she attempted to roll, gasping when a jolt of pain ran up her arm. Looking down, she noticed it was bent at an odd angle.
Broken.

“Lawrence. Please. I think my arm is broken,” she pleaded in a small voice. “I’m trying to follow the rules, but I need your help. Please help me,” she fell back into their old routine. He would occasionally show her mercy if she convinced him that he was the only one that could help her. The only one she would ever need. He thrived on having that power and control over her, he got off on being in charge of her existence.

He let out a sigh and reached down and wrapped his hand around her uninjured arm, hauling her to her feet. The agony was a white-hot searing pain all through her and tears rolled down her cheeks as she fought to keep her balance.

Forcing herself to meet his eyes, she plastered a smile on her face, ignoring the blood that dripped off her chin from her split lip.

“Thank you, Lawrence.” She forced the words out, nearly choking on them in the process. He grunted in response and shoved her hard between the shoulder blades.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, maneuvering her towards the door. Gwyn truly started to panic then, if he got her out of her house, if he took her from her home—she’d never come back. She knew this was the end of the line for her. She wouldn’t survive being in his possession a second time. She struggled weakly for a few minutes, but it only resulted in him lashing out once more. He pushed the back of her head and she stumbled forward, nearly landing back on the ground.

“Don’t fucking test me, Gwyn. I should snap your neck right here and just wash my hands of you once and for all. You’re nothing but a pain in the ass. A waste of my time,” he bit out.

“Just leave me here. Just leave me here and go, Lawrence. You’ve punished me. Prove—proved your point,” she stuttered. Her injuries were starting to settle in and it was difficult to keep herself upright.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? You’d like me to just leave you here in your fancy fucking house with your new fucking life.” He opened the door and this time he didn’t take the care to not touch her broken arm. Yanking on it, he ignored her shout of pain and pulled her through the doorway. His car was waiting in the driveway and the sight of it had Gwyn springing into action once more. She slipped from his grasp and tried to limp back into the house, she had to lock the door. Lock him out. Be safe. Call Brady. Brady…Her thoughts of him were interrupted when Lawrence caught her once more.

“Are you that fucking stupid that you’d rather die than get your skinny ass in the car?” Lawrence’s breath blew hot in her face as he leaned down, intent on intimidating her into going along with his plans.

Her life with Brady, the job at the diner that she loved, her hopes for a family flashed before her eyes.

Looking up at him, Gwyn forced steel into her voice. “Some things are worth dying for.” Lawrence let out a dry chuckle at her attempt at bravery.

“Well you might just get your fucking wish.” He forced her into the driver’s seat of the car before climbing into the passenger seat. “Drive,” he commanded. “And don’t give me shit about your fucking arm,” he snapped when he saw her mouth open to protest. “It’s your own fault for having shit for brains and going up those damn stairs.”

Gwyn refused, sitting still and silent. Losing patience, he slammed her face down into the steering wheel. Her face landed against it in a sickening crunch, her forehead aching instantly. Completely dazed, she lifted her head and let it lag to one side. She wheezed and brought her good arm up to prod her face. Was her nose broken? She didn’t think so but it was hard to tell through the pain.

“Dumb fucking cunt.” He turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. “You have no idea what hell is coming for you here. You’re lucky I’m taking pity on you and allowing you to come with me. Once Mila gets finished with this fucking shithole, Durham Heights will be nothing. Blown off the map. Let’s see how fancy your new life is when it’s been turned into nothing but a pile of dust.”

“Mila…” she repeated, shocked. “You know her?”

“Don’t fucking ask questions. Just drive.” Left with no choice, Gwyn obeyed, cringing when she moved her arm the wrong way.

“Where?” she rasped, breathing through the pain.

“What did I just fucking say about questions? You never fucking listen. How anyone puts up with you is beyond me. Drive and I’ll fucking tell you where to go.” Gwyn obeyed, backing the car down the long driveway of the home she cherished with Brady. Looking in the rear view mirror, she had the sinking feeling it was the last time she’d ever see it again. Lawrence confirmed she was likely correct with his next words.

“Good riddance to this fucking place. Say your goodbyes, Gwyn. This is the last you’ll see of it.” As they drove through the little town, Gwyn believed him, without a doubt.

T
he news of
Rosie Jenkins’ death spread through Stockton Crossing like wildfire. The kind, elderly woman had been adored by all and her passing in such an inhumane way devastated the town. Every time Aubrey thought about it, her eyes filled with tears. She had become very close with Rosie after her husband passed, she loved to volunteer at the library and host small story reading groups for some of the children. Hers would be a void they’d be unable to fill. A part of their heart they’d never get back.

West had been the one to break the news to her, he’d been spending a lot of his time off from work at the library with her helping with the restoration. While she was grateful for his help, his presence set her nerves on edge. He had a way of getting under her skin with just one look. She mentally berated herself for being so juvenile. Butterflies and blushing around a man; what was she—a silly teenage girl with a crush?

Autumn was finally satisfied that he was not involved in the fire after an intense round of grilling. She could put any detective to shame with her stone-wall exterior and direct, to the point inquiries. West had explained that he’d simply passed out in his car after their night at the bar out front of the library and when he woke up there the next morning, he’d seen the smoke and called it in straight away. His story made sense since he’d still been in the same clothes from the previous night when he’d arrived on the scene. Aubrey was pleased she was right; she knew that West would never be capable of the torture she’d been through with that madman.

The arrival of Theo, Gabe and the two men from Durham Heights shed more seriousness on the situation than Aubrey liked. Nora was more on edge than ever having to share her space with Gabe again when she was still feeling conflicted and Autumn and Theo were driving her mad with their smart aleck attitudes and constant flirting. Neither was actually interested in the other, but they loved to tease. The two other men; Brady and Sam had opted to stay with West instead of at her home, which was a relief as she didn’t really have the space for all of them. Aubrey was wise enough to know that there was something they weren’t telling her about them being in town but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. If they were there to help on the case, she wanted to be kept out of it. All that mattered was catching the Matchstick Man before someone else lost their life.

Aubrey set down the paint cans and an armload of brushes and surveyed the wall outside the library office. That area had been damaged the most as it’s where Aubrey had been trapped and left for dead. Most of the work had already been completed, this was one of the last jobs. Aubrey was hoping to re-open the library within the next few days. A new shipment of books should arrive later that day for them to start cataloguing and getting registered into the system. Once that was complete, they’d be back in business.

She poured the cream coloured paint into the tray and dipped her brush in, ready to start the trim. A noise behind her startled her and she whirled around, flinging paint as she raised the brush in front of her like a sword.

West was standing there, eyebrows raised in amusement at her stance. “Are you going to paint me to death, sweets?” he asked with a chuckle.

Aubrey fought to catch her breath. “You scared the hell out of me, West. What are you doing sneaking up on me?”

West frowned. “I didn’t mean to scare you, doll. I thought you would have heard me come in. Speaking of, why wasn’t that damn front door locked? Are you in here alone?” He looked around the room.