Page 4 of Blood and Thorns (Twisted Ever After #1)

Arabella

Another night, another–thankfully–uneventful shift.

I’d called last order almost thirty minutes ago, but there were still two customers left.

Luckily, Suzy was subtly convincing them to leave so we could close, my feet aching from being on them for twelve hours straight.

Heading towards the back, I grabbed a crate, using it to wedge the door open so I could take the rubbish out to the bin.

The lights outside flickered, giving off a slight whine as they struggled to fight against the impending shadows creeping in the distance.

The night air was cool, so I hastily made my way to the shared bins, tossing the bag into the one on the left.

It made a racket, and I flinched as a rat almost skittered across my boots.

“Shit!” I jumped back, only to laugh at myself.

It was just a rat. The city was full of them. Literally, and figuratively.

Shaking my head, I turned back towards the door, only for the light above to click off.

Sudden darkness eloped me, and I automatically froze.

There was no moon or stars to brighten the night.

The only illumination was from the streetlamp along the road, which created an eerie glow at the mouth of the alley.

Something shuffled, like shoes on cobbled stones.

It was only seconds later that the light buzzed back on, but not before sweat had broken out along my skin.

Glancing around, I couldn’t see anyone else, but then something pressed against my shoulder, shoving me so suddenly I staggered forward.

My palm scraped against the brick, steadying my fall when a pressure landed on my back.

Rancid breath feathered across my cheek, and I stilled even as the wall bit at my skin.

“Fucking hell. When I found out Morris had a daughter, I expected an ugly cunt just like him.”

I stilled in my panic, my pulse frantic at the side of my throat.

“Not something like you, sweetheart.”

The stranger’s hand snaked down, tugging the hem of my T-shirt out of my jeans. His fingers clawed at the skin beneath, and yet I didn’t move, completely paralysed as I tried to calm the growing fear.

“What do you want?” I asked, proud my voice somehow didn’t falter.

He licked his lips. “Your Da owes my boss quite a few grand, and Mr O’Connor isn’t the one to take kindly to people owing him money, you understand?”

“O’Connor?”

“Aye, your Da likes to play with dangerous people,” the stranger snickered. “Now, you either hand over the five grand that he owes, with interest, or… maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement?” With each word he dug his fingers harder into my body.

“Interest? That’s bullshit!” I let out a hiss when my head was forced to the side by my hair. The stranger smirked down at me, his gaze like oil over my skin .

“That was before he missed the deadline.”

“The deadline’s not until tomorrow.”

“Change of plans, sweetheart.” He released my head but didn’t step back. “You should probably tell your Da not to mess with the Irish. He’s lucky O’Connor’s the forgiving type.”

I swallowed hard, my throat bobbing. “I only have the five.”

His chuckle was dark, the sound making me want to puke. “You’re going to have to take option B then, aren’t you?”

The pressure on my back released, and there was a distinctive sound of a belt being pulled through loops. The blood left my face, and I gasped. No.

“Wait!” I tried to control my breathing, pressing myself as far away from him as possible. His brow was raised, waiting for me to continue. “How much is the interest?”

He tilted his head. “Ten percent.”

Which made it ￡500. Fuck.

He reached for my shoulder, and my panic surged. My head snapped back, connecting with his face hard enough that pain radiated across the back of my skull.

“Fucking bitch!” he cursed, sneering at me with bloody teeth.

“I have your money,” I swore, twisting around before he could grab me again.

I ran to the bar, kicking the crate away while simultaneously slamming the door shut behind me.

I expected it to crack open, for the man to finish what he’d started.

But there was nothing but silence, and when I looked out the peephole, I could see him waiting, his belt now buckled.

Tears prickled my eyes, and I wiped at them before anyone noticed.

“Hey, Ara,” Suzy said when she found me. “Did you put the rubbish out? Rachael’s just left to catch her last train, and I’ve finally managed to rouse Joe enough to kick him out.”

Wiping my cheeks once more, I turned to offer her a forced smile. “Yeah, all done. You mopped yet?”

Suzy’s eyes dropped to where my skin stung, and it took everything in me not to react. “Ara…”

“I just need to finish tidying the bar,” I said. “Won’t be long.”

Suzy’s look of concern only deepened. “Yeah, okay.”

I waited for Suzy to turn, disappearing into the storage before I started counting out my tips, my stomach turning to ice when I realised I didn’t have enough.

Not even close. Chest tight, I quickly opened up the register, grabbing the rest and closing it just before Suzy reappeared, this time wearing her coat.

“You ready to go?”

The money felt heavy in my pocket, like I’d somehow stolen rocks and thrown myself into a river. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to resort to stealing to pay my father’s debts, but the guilt never lessened.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

I winced when I accidentally pulled at the cut on my lip, tasting blood on my tongue. “Next time, I hope you don’t pay the interest,” the man had chuckled before backhanding me. My head had snapped to the side, but before I could react, he’d already walked away.

Gazing out the window, I watched as raindrops raced down the glass, each one desperate to win.

I must’ve been lost in a daze, silently rooting for the ridiculous competition, because when I finally blinked, I suddenly recognised the street outside.

The bus rumbled to a stop, and jumping up I stepped out, taking a moment to let the rain wash over me.

It wasn’t long before I was soaked to the bone, but I didn’t care. My body shivered, and yet I stood for a moment more. My fingers ached from the cold, my hair slicked to my forehead, and still I didn’t want to move.

It was a few minutes before I finally made my way home, my keys rattling in my hand. The door opened, and I was immediately greeted by cursing, followed by a crash.

“Dad?” I frowned, wanting to know why he was still awake at 2 a.m. “What are you doing?”

Dad didn’t even look up from where he was throwing things into a large cardboard box.

A kitchen towel, a mug, and then a lamp.

“You’re late,” he said, grabbing a few of his mechanic monthly magazines.

They flew across the room, landing on the heap.

“The bar closed at one, and it doesn’t take a fucking hour this late to get home. ”

“I had to pay O’Conner.”

“He’s paid? Good, that’s one less thing to think about.” He finally turned, his eyes wild before they settled on my face. “O’Conner do that?”

I tried to smile, but it came out more of a grimace. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

Dad’s eyes lingered a moment more, lips pressed into a thin line. “What the fuck are you doing still standing there? Pack. We’re moving.”

“What? Why?” We’d been here three years, which was the longest we’d stayed in one place since I could remember. The flat may not be much, but it was the only constant thing I had. “I’ve already paid– ”

“It’s not O’Connor, Ara. It’s… everyone else.

People are fucking disappearing, or turning up dead,” he muttered, quieter this time, almost as if he was talking to himself before returning his attention to me.

“It’s not like you bring any fucking money into this house to support us. So it’s up to me, isn’t it?”

“Dad, we can’t leave. You have your business and–”

“Fixing cars barely makes ends meet, and my luck these past few months hasn’t exactly helped my game.” He dragged a hand down his face, his fingers trembling slightly. “We can hardly make rent, and the water’s just been turned off.”

“Who else do you owe?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He stilled, a nerve feathering in his jaw. “Baby girl…”

“Dad!”

“Look, it doesn’t matter.”

Goosebumps prickled along my skin, and even though I knew I was freezing, heat burned through my blood. “Clearly it does if you’re trying to pack the bloody lamp!” It wasn’t even a nice lamp. “Can you not borrow the money from someone else to cover until we figure it out?”

“No, I’ve been fucking marked,” he sneered, shaking his head. “No one is lending me shit. Now, go pack or–”

A smash, like glass shattering below.

“Fucking kids again,” Dad growled. “Go. You have ten minutes before we’re leaving.” He didn’t wait for me to reply, grumbling as he went to deal with the kids likely trying to steal some scrap.

I stood there, looking at the living room which had been wrecked. We didn’t have much to begin with, but Dad had frantically thrown everything into the box. He’d clearly lost his temper at one point, because bottle shards glinted on the carpet .

I thought of my books. Hundreds I’d claimed as my trophies, displayed with pride along my makeshift bookshelf.

Then there were my clothes and the silly empty perfume bottles I liked to line up by my bed.

I wouldn’t be able to pack them all. Dad would want me to use a small suitcase with the bare essentials, and that was it.

I was never allowed to pack more, and each time we moved I lost everything. Only to have to start again.

Another new city.

Another new job.

The same cycle on repeat.

No. I couldn’t do this again. I wouldn’t do this again.

We’d figure it out. We always did.

Walking to the door, I took the steps down the side of the building towards the entrance to the garage.

“Morris, you’ve been a bad fucking boy.”

I stilled, frowning at the unfamiliar voice coming from inside.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A smack of flesh on flesh, followed by Dad crying out. My eyes widened.

“You calling me a liar?”

Shit.

I grabbed my phone, quickly dialling 999 and whispering for the police.

“Please!” Dad begged. “I didn’t know the money belonged to you!”

“Oh, so you do know what we’re talking about? Funny that. If you’d told us the truth the first time, I wouldn’t have had to introduce your nose to my knuckles.”

Sneaking closer, I glanced through the gap in the door, finding Dad on his knees. The door squeaked slightly as it opened, and I sucked in a breath. No reaction, so I quickly slipped inside as silently as possible .

There were two men I didn’t recognise, both towering over Dad. The blond’s smirk held a slight feral edge, and lifting his hands, he signed to the brunet who stood opposite.

“Alright Lang, no need to shout,” the brunet chuckled.

Dad glanced between them, blood dripping from his nose. From the angle, it almost appeared broken. “What… what did he say?”

“He said, ‘Did you know that eyeballs don’t explode? Instead they slowly and painfully melt if held under heat long enough.’”

Dad let out a sob. “Please… I’ll find your money.”

The man who signed with his hands was tall, with an athletic build and pale hair that was long enough to brush his collar.

His translator was an inch or so taller, which had him around six foot four.

He was a little wider, stockier, like he enjoyed lifting weights but not to excess, and his brown hair was cut to just above his ears.

The brunet wore a suit, the fabric clearly expensive and perfectly tailored even from a distance while the blond wore black jeans and a dark T-shirt.

I slowly moved around the Volkswagen, keeping to a crouch. The bonnet was up, the engine in pieces by my feet, as were spills of oil. I was conscious of those spots, carefully moving around while the men were distracted.

Coming to the edge, I froze, realising there was a third man.

He leaned casually against the wall, knee bent and his head cocked.

He hadn’t said a single word, yet power radiated from his large frame.

He was by far the tallest, and his shoulders were so wide they strained against the black suit jacket he wore.

His hand flexed, as did his thigh when he straightened to his full height.

Fuck .

He still hadn’t noticed me, so I slowly moved towards the desk beside the suspended Ford my dad had been working on that morning. My fingers brushed against something cold, solid, and I automatically picked up the heavy metal.

I dipped behind the car, hoping they heard nothing as my foot knocked one of the tools forgotten on the floor.

The big man stepped forward, and the other two stepped back. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, his voice a throaty growl that seemed to weigh the air.

Dad audibly swallowed before nodding. “I… I didn’t know it was your money.”

“Where is it?”

“I… lost it.” Dad’s eyes widened when the third man took another strategic step closer, his voice taking on a frantic edge. “But I can get it back, I swear! There’s a tournament coming up, and I’ll make sure I’ll win. I’ll pay you back every penny, plus more! You’ve just got to give me some time.”

My fingers tightened on the wrench.

The third man finally reached Dad, standing over him in his black-on-black suit like the grim reaper.

That was when I struck, using all my strength to swing the tool.

I knew my strength wouldn’t do much damage, but it didn’t need to.

I just needed to distract them long enough for the police to get here.

Pain radiated up my arm, the man turning at the last second to catch the wrench before it could even strike him. Before I could jerk back, he pulled me closer, yanking the weapon from my grip and locking both my wrists in one of his larger hands.

My head automatically dipped back, and my breath whooshed out in one long, panicked exhale. Eyes of the deepest blue, cold and merciless, glared down at me with a fury laced with cruel amusement.

But it wasn’t the rage in his gaze that made me still.

It was the matte black skeletal mask shrouding the lower half of his face.