Page 30 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)

“—Avril?” Lucian’s voice was unsettlingly soft.

“I... I...”

Words clogged in my throat, and the silence in the room pounded in my ears.

Beside me, Titus chuckled low, and the sound slithered its way into my ears like poison. I glanced towards him, and he met my gaze with a triumphant smirk. “Speechless, are we? Such a shame—she has a talented tongue, doesn’t she, Valen?”

“Quiet, Titus.” Lucian’s words silenced his eldest son instantly. His icy gaze returned to me as he studied the polaroids again.

Every breath I took seemed too loud in the deathly quiet of the room.

Shame spread through me like wildfire as Lucian’s focus returned to the images of my naked flesh entwined with his sons’.

Then, his gaze flickered up to meet mine, and a shiver ran down my spine.

The predatory glint in his icy pale eyes reflected no mercy.

“Did you think you could just walk away from Withermarsh? That you could betray me without consequence?” His voice was an icy wind that swept across the room.

Tears welled up in my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. His words were like an iron collar around my neck, choking me until I could barely breathe.

“I... I don’t...” My voice shook. “I thought...”

But what had I thought? That my stepbrothers would turn against their father for me?

It seemed so foolish now.

How had I allowed myself to trust them?

“You believed you might manipulate my sons against me.” Lucian’s voice was deceptively calm. “But you see, Avril,” He continued and picked up one of the photographs. He studied it briefly before he flicked it toward me. “I taught them everything they know about manipulation.” His chilling smirk mirrored Titus’ cruel satisfaction. “They are my flesh and blood, after all.”

I cringed as the photo—the damning evidence of the many mistakes I had made—fluttered down to the floor. I was naked, cowering on the floor, but it was the betrayal that had left me feeling more used, broken, and exposed than anything I could have ever experienced.

Lucian’s stony gaze followed my reaction with predatory interest before he turned his attention back to the images on his desk. “While I am certain that you would wish for me to dismiss you from this house—” he paused, and I forced myself to focus on my bare feet. “I need time to contemplate this betrayal. And your punishment.”

I flinched, and my gaze darted toward Titus, Valen, and Bastian. Their faces were impassive, their icy eyes devoid of the brief warmth they’d shown me in stolen moments.

No— they had never done that. Warmth—

If I hadn’t been so broken, I could have laughed at my own foolishness .

Had I been so desperate for kindness and care that I’d seen it where it had never been?

Lucian’s gaze bored into me, intent on ripping me apart piece by piece.

“I...I just wanted to be free,” I choked out. My head bowed with the weight of my humiliation. I could feel Lucian’s power closing in around me, seeping through my skin and twisting itself around my soul.

A hollow laugh echoed from Titus. “Free?” Derision filled his voice as he stood, walked around the desk, and stopped behind his father. “You really believed that letting us fuck you would set you free?”

Titus leaned forward to gather up a handful of the photos and he smirked as he thumbed through them.

“I didn’t—”

“It was almost too easy,” Valen said. “She submitted so prettily, too.”

“A whore just like her mother,” Bastian chuckled.

The comment earned him a sharp glare from Lucian, and I held my breath.

Lucian turned his gaze back on me, and his predatory eyes were keen as he dissected my despair. “Think carefully about your next move, Avril. You, of all people, should know that I don’t take kindly to betrayal.”

Daughter of a traitor.

The world tipped sideways, and I gasped for air as the room closed in around me.

The walls of Lucian’s study, once merely oppressive, were now a prison from which there was no escape.

“Take her away,” Lucian commanded, his gaze hardening as he dismissed me with a wave of his smoke-wreathed hands.

My legs refused to cooperate as a bodyguard I hadn’t noticed stepped out of the shadows. Titus handed him the handful of photos, and the bodyguard paused only briefly as Titus spoke to him. After receiving instructions, he nodded, then strode toward me. He grabbed my arm and pulled me roughly to my feet.

His grip bit into my flesh, but I couldn’t feel the pain; only numbness.

I held the blanket against my naked body, but I wondered if it mattered. They had all seen every inch of me…

I gritted my teeth to feel the crust of drying cum on my breasts and thighs when I stumbled forward.

As I was towed from the room, I managed a final glance at Bastian and Titus.

Their eyes held no remorse, only cruel satisfaction that I would finally pay for daring to enter their house.

Eerily silent, the cold marble corridors of Withermarsh echoed as I was dragged back to my gilded cage.

The estate seemed to revel in my disgrace, and its old magic seemed to hum with bitter delight.

Once we reached my room, the bodyguard wrenched the door open and pushed me inside like a rag doll.

My knees buckled under the onslaught of despair, and I fell to the plush carpet in a heap of despair.

The silent behemoth of a man pulled the photographs from his pocket and threw them at me.

I barely flinched as they struck my bare back and shoulders and fluttered to the carpet.

Without saying a word, he turned and left, and the door closed behind him with a heavy thud that echoed ominously in the room.

I was alone again.

Alone in this enormous room that felt more like a prison cell than ever.

My gaze fell upon the photos scattered around me.

The proof of my disgrace .

The sight of them only amplified the depth of my shame and humiliation. I knew they were meant to be reminders of my folly, my failed attempt at freedom.

Tears welled up in my eyes again as I stared at the polaroids. Every bit of praise, every lingering touch—it was all a lie. An elaborate ruse crafted to break me and crush any hope I had managed to hold on to.

Tears stung my eyes as I reached for them. Every fiber in my being yearned to rip those photos to pieces and destroy any trace of the shame that radiated from them.

But doing so wouldn’t erase the truth they held—the damning proof of my weakness. My misplaced trust.

As I picked up one, my fingers traced over the foreign landscape of naked bodies tangled in lust—naked bodies that were mine, Titus’s, Valen’s, and Bastian’s.

Blinking back tears was impossible, and I shoved away the images and curled up against the edge of my bed to hug my knees to my chest; while sobs I was powerless to stop wracked my body.

I don’t know how long I sat there, wrapped in my misery.

But eventually I dragged myself to my feet and stumbled to the bathroom.

I winced at my reflection in the mirror. The young woman who stared back at me was a stranger.

My eyes were wide and hollow, haunted by the betrayal of Lucian’s sons and the monstrous cruelty of their father.

I could barely look at her .

I leaned heavily against the countertop and then pushed myself away, and turned on the shower.

I didn’t even wait for the water temperature to change before I stepped under the cascading rush. I closed my eyes and let the water envelop me.

As if washing away the evidence of my tryst with the Romano brothers could somehow wash away the filth.

I scrubbed fruitlessly at every inch of skin they had touched until my body was red and raw. The soap was bitter on my tongue and in my mouth, but it provided a small comfort; I was washing away every part of them, even if it was only on the surface.

Once clean, I wrapped myself up in a soft towel before making my way back to the bedroom.

The blanket I had clung to earlier lay discarded on the floor, now just another reminder of my humiliation.

My mind screamed at me to burn it, but lucidity forced me to instead fold it carefully and push it into the laundry hamper.

I didn’t want to look at the chaise—the images of what happened there were burned into my mind, just as surely as Bastian captured them in his photos.

Scattered across the carpet like fallen soldiers, the photos seemed to taunt me from where they lay.

With a shudder and a deep breath for courage, I picked each one up carefully from where they had fallen and kept my eyes averted from the ruinous images. I didn’t need to be reminded of what had happened—I would never forget what they had done to me.

One by one they found a new home inside an elaborate wooden box I had found on my vanity, and I tucked it away under my bed and hoped that they would be forgotten forever.

It took me far too long to unwind the towel from around my body and force myself to walk into my closet to choose something to wear.

All I wanted to do was wrap myself in blankets, fall asleep, and never wake up.

But I couldn’t— I couldn’t give in.

I dressed as comfortably as I could, but even touching the clothing that Lucian had filled my wardrobes and closets with made bile rise in my throat.

He’ll never let you go.

The fireplace was cold and I couldn’t bring myself to ring for someone to make a fire. There were no matches or any implements available to me even if I’d wanted to—it meant I couldn’t set the house on fire, either.

The chill of the air seeped into my bones as I sat on the edge of my bed.

I have to get out of here.

I stood and paced the carpet.

There was no way I would be able to slip past Lucian’s guards or creep through the house unnoticed.

My fretful steps took me past the windows that looked out over Withermarsh’s darkened gardens and I paused—

The garden.

I moved to the window and stared at the sprawling grounds. The overcast sky only allowed the barest hint of moonlight through, transforming the garden into a dark tapestry of looming shadows and eerie silhouettes. The tangled mass of foliage bordering the garden caught my attention. It seemed to stretch on endlessly, an insurmountable barrier guarded by the dancing shadows of gnarled trees.

It was madness.

But it was the only way I was going to be able to escape this place.

My thoughts raced as I considered my options .

Guards stood at every exit—and someone controlled the wrought-iron gate— I didn’t even know who operated it, or if a specific incantation or spell was required— Whatever the method, Lucian’s paranoia ensured that the gates remained locked unless he allowed someone’s departure.

As the clock struck four, I summoned what little courage I had and eased open the window.

My breath hissed through my teeth as a gust of icy wind bit at my skin.

It had been raining, and the roof would be slippery. I’d have to do it barefoot.

I scrambled to find a pair of ballet flats and shoved them into the pocket of my jeans before I pushed up the sleeves of the delicate cashmere sweater I’d chosen at random. Hardly the best escape outfit—but it would have to do.

I hesitated for a moment and flexed my toes against the carpet.

This was… extreme.

Was I overreacting?

My gaze landed on the dark jeweled plug that lay on the carpet beside the chaise, and everything that had happened came rolling back into my mind and revulsion crept up my spine.

I had to go.

I gritted my teeth as I pushed myself onto the windowsill and stepped out onto the roof next to my room.

The roof tiles beneath my feet felt slick, and I clung to the edge of the window and tried to steady myself.

“You can do this,” I whispered, trying to reassure myself.

Slowly, I forced myself to release my grip on the window and inched my way across the roof. I dropped low and kept as close to the shadows as possible. I did my best not to look at anything but my feet as I inched across the roofline .

I didn’t have a bag or anything—no supplies, no other clothes. But I didn’t care. I’d figure it out.

My breath caught in my throat each time I heard the muffled voices of the guards who patrolled the grounds below, but I pressed on.

I couldn’t go back.

I didn’t want to know what my punishment would be.

Or how much Titus and his brothers would enjoy watching me suffer at their father’s hand.

I focused on each small movement, and my mind raced with thoughts of freedom and what lay beyond the oppressive walls of Withermarsh.

A noise in the darkness made me look up, and as I did, my foot slipped—

A cold sweat broke out on my brow, but I managed to regain my balance and gripped the tiles with desperate fingers as I tried to steady my breathing.

“Almost there,” I whispered as I approached the edge of the roof.

I held on tight and dared to glance down at the dark expanse of the garden below as my body trembled from the cold and fear.

I couldn’t help but wonder if I was making a terrible mistake—if I fell—if anything happened—it would all be for nothing.

The moon was a pale, sickly shadow behind the clouds that covered the sky over Withermarsh, and it barely illuminated my treacherous path as I crept across the slippery rooftop. The cold tiles bit into my bare feet with each cautious step, and my breath came in shallow gasps as I tried to keep my fear in check.

Below me, the silent garden seemed to stretch on forever, a dark abyss that threatened to swallow me whole.

My heart leapt as I caught sight of a trellis attached to the side of the house.

I moved as gracefully as I could, trying to minimize the sound of my footsteps on the slick roof and, after an agonizing journey, I reached the trellis and paused to gather myself and focus on what needed to be done.

One foot at a time.

Down the trellis.

Then run through the garden to the wall— you’ll find a way.

I had to.

I closed my eyes and turned my back to the garden before I extended one leg down toward the trellis.

Just like a ladder.

Easy.

Please don’t be thorns.

My foot settled on the painted wood of the trellis, and I breathed a small sigh.

A miniature victory.

That’s all I need. Just a few more of those.

But as I swung my other leg around and prepared to descend, the wood under my foot cracked and splintered, and I plummeted backwards toward the ground. I didn’t have time to scream, and I closed my eyes as I struck the ground and all the air whooshed out of my lungs at the impact.

I lay in the wet grass and stared sightlessly up at the iron gray clouds as I gasped for breath like a netted fish.

Get up!

Get up!

As my breathing steadied, I pushed myself to my feet and stood on shaking legs as I tried to get my bearings. I glared at the broken trellis and then winced as pain shot through my body.

I pulled my flats out of my back pocket and shoved them onto my feet.

There was no time for self-pity; I had to keep moving.

As I limped forward, I strained my senses, trying to detect any magical traps or wards that Lucian might have placed around the estate. My own magic was weak and untrained, but they were enough to sense the faint vibrations of dark magic that might be hidden among the shadows.

My hands glowed with a faintly purple aura as I moved through the garden, and then, as I rounded a corner, my palms began to burn.

“Gotcha,” I muttered under my breath as I stepped carefully around a cluster of thorny vines that seemed to quiver with malevolent energy. I shuddered at the thought of what they might do to me if I were to touch them, but there was no time to dwell on it.

Almost there.

As I crept through the garden, I couldn’t help but feel as though I were being watched.

The guards patrolling the grounds moved with an eerie silence, and their footsteps were muffled by the thick moss and leaves that blanketed the earth. But the sharpness of their cigarettes was in the air and their voices echoed in the darkness—all I could do was hold my breath and freeze in place each time they passed nearby, and prayed that they wouldn’t spot me in the shadows.

The last set of guards passed by, and I allowed myself a moment of hope.

But as I stepped forward, intent on running toward the wall of carefully sculpted topiary trees, dark laughter echoed through the garden.

“Did you really think you would be able to escape us, sister?” sneered one of my stepbrothers. A tall figure materialized from the shadows before me.

Bastian.

His pale gray eyes glinted with malicious delight as his fingers flexed with dark power .

“Please, don’t,” I whispered, but my heart clenched as I realized there was no way out.

Valen and Titus emerged from the darkness and the three of them surrounded me like wolves closing in on their prey.

“Look at her, trembling like a frightened little bird,” Bastian jeered. His cruel smile sent shivers down my spine. “You belong to us, Avril. You should know better than to try and run away from your fate.”

“Enough of this,” Titus barked. He stepped forward to seize my arm. “Take her back inside. Lucian will want to deal with this himself.”

I struggled against his iron grip and lashed out at him with my nails. “Let go of me! I won’t let you drag me back there!” Titus chuckled at my efforts, and desperation tightened in my chest.

“Feisty, isn’t she?” Valen remarked with a sinister chuckle. “I like it. Makes things interesting.”

“Please,” I pleaded again, and tears streamed down my face as I stared back at their unfeeling gazes. “I just want to be free of this place—”

“Freedom is an illusion, dear sister,” Titus said bitterly. “The sooner you accept that, the easier your life will be.”

The shadows twisted around me, their tendrils reaching for my heart as I clenched my fists and drew upon the waning strength of my magic.

“I won’t go back with you.”

“Really, Avril?” Bastian sneered. “You think your feeble attempts at magic can stop us?”

Ignoring his mockery, I focused on the energy coursing through my veins, willing it to coalesce into a barrier between us—anything to make Titus release his hold on my arm. The air shimmered and a pale glow emanated from my palms—but even though my fingertips tingled with it; I knew it wasn’t enough .

“Pathetic,” Valen spat as he raised his hand to blast dark tendrils of power against my weak attempt at protecting myself.

The impact made my jaw clench, and my back arched with pain—and as my knees buckled, my magic flickered and died.

Titus held me upright with his painful grip, and I let out a moan as I tried to regain my balance.

“Enough,” Lucian’s crisp voice sliced through the darkness.

He strode down the path toward us, and his pale eyes glinted with malice as he surveyed the scene before him. “Well done, my sons. She wouldn’t have gotten far— but you’ve saved me some irritation.”

Bastian cracked his knuckles while Valen and Titus inclined their heads.

Titus’ grip on my arm didn’t ease.

Lucian stepped forward, and the red smoke of his magic curled around his fingers and crept through the air toward me. A tendril of smoke curled under my chin and forced me to look up at him. My breath hissed through my teeth as I met Lucian’s pale stare.

He frowned at me and his condescension made my blood run cold. “Avril, my dear,” he intoned, “you disappoint me. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“Don’t call me that,” I choked out as I fought back furious tears that threatened to spill over. “I am not yours, Lucian.”

His chuckle sent shivers down my spine. “Oh, but you are . You simply refuse to see it.” He advanced toward me, and his dark energy swirled around him like a storm. “Your futile attempts at resistance only make you more enticing. It is time for you to accept your destiny.”

“Never,” I spat.

Lucian’s magic wound around my throat and Titus’ grip on my arm finally released—but I wasn’t free—

Lucian raised his hand, palm up, and the smokey tentacles of his power lifted me off the ground even as they tightened around my throat and torso.

I gasped and attempted to gulp in as much air as possible, even as my constricted lungs struggled.

“Such a waste of effort,” he murmured, as he looked at me. “You could be so much more if you would only submit.”

“Submit?” I choked out, staring up at him with tear-filled eyes. “To become your bride? No, Lucian. I will never give in to you.”

“Then you leave me no choice,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. He made a beckoning motion, and I floated toward him, dragged by his power. He reached out and took hold of my chin and forced me to look into his icy eyes. “I will break you, Avril. And when I do, you will beg for the privilege of being called the mistress of this estate.”

I choked on my breath, and my vision began to blur as Lucian stared at me.

Suddenly, the world around me became distorted and unfocused, the edges of my vision blurring with dark spots.

An icy chill swept over my body, as though Lucian’s magic was seeping into my very pores, and a shudder passed through me as my body convulsed in rebellion against the malevolent energy trying to take hold of it.

Then, with a dismissive flick of his fingers, the red smoke of his magic released me from its burning grip and I fell to the stone pathway in a tangled heap.

I lay there, coughing and gasping, as my eyes watered and my lungs burned.

Bastard.

Cruel Bastard.

“Put her in her room,” Lucian ordered his sons, without tearing his gaze away from mine. “She needs time to think about her actions.” He turned away with a smirk of triumph on his arrogant, angular face. “The ceremony preparations can continue tomorrow.”

I watched helplessly as he walked back toward the house, and his laughter echoed around the garden.

Remaining still in an attempt to salvage any dignity that continued to exist within me, I didn’t resist as Titus and Valen hoisted me to my feet.

Each movement felt like a new humiliation as I was led back to the house. The mansion seemed to morph and distort in my vision, and I had to close my eyes to retain some sense of what was happening.

I didn’t know what to believe— Was what I saw real?

Or was it just the effects of Lucian’s magic that lingered on my skin—designed to twist and undermine my trust in my senses?

They dragged me through the double doors and into the cavernous foyer, and then up the staircase. Their footsteps echoed dully against the cold stone floors and I could taste the bitterness of defeat on my tongue.

Once we reached my room, Titus kicked open the door and pushed me into the chamber without ceremony. I stumbled inside and caught myself on the edge of the bed. Valen stepped in after him and I flinched under his hard gaze.

“Try anything like that again,” he warned, “and you will pay dearly.” His voice carried a dark edge that sent shivers down my spine.

With that ominous threat hanging in the air, Titus and Valen returned to the hallway, and the door slammed shut behind them.

Leaning against the bed for support, I stared at the door and listened in horror as my stepbrother’s voices spoke in unison.

The smoky tendrils of their dark magic curled under the door and through the keyhole, and I knew I was trapped in here— Sigils kept unwanted things out of this room—but now something was keeping me in.

I swallowed hard as the smoke dissipated and their chanting voices ceased.

I listened to their retreating footsteps as they descended the stairs, and the house swallowed their cruel laughter until all was silent once more.

For a moment, I stood rooted to the spot as the silence enveloped the room like a suffocating blanket.

Then, reality crashed into me and I crumpled onto the bed.

Trapped.

Alone.

And worst of all—

I was helpless against the tide of darkness that threatened to sweep me away.

TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 2 OF THE WICKED HEIRS SERIES: CURSED