Page 8 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)
I took a deep breath and forced my eyes open and stared into the mirror. There was nothing—nothing but my reflection, staring back at me, wide-eyed and trembling.
No monstrous leering shadow.
No black smoke to wrap around my limbs and torso, to suffocate and strangle me.
My breath rattled in my throat as I reached out slowly to touch the cold, unmarred surface of the mirror.
Was I seeing things now?
I allowed myself to touch the surface of the mirror as if half-expecting it to come alive under my hand. But it only reflected my pale face and wide eyes.
I cast one last apprehensive glance over my shoulder, I hastily picked up my discarded clothes from the dressing room floor and pulled them on.
When I stepped out of the changing room, it was as though I’d just resurfaced after a deep dive.
My chest was tight, and I struggled to regain a semblance of control over my frantic heartbeat .
The assistant stood nearby, and she retrieved the gray gown from the dressing room hook with a deft motion, her painted lips stretched in a triumphant smile. The gown draped across her arm glowed eerily under artificial lights.
“You’ll be the envy of every woman there, Miss Velez,” she said in her sugary voice.
“Right,” I mumbled, avoiding her gaze.
I couldn’t care less about being envied.
“The alterations will be made quickly,” she continued. “I’ll have the gown sent up to Withermarsh when it’s finished.”
“Sure.”
She didn’t seem to notice, or care, that all of my replies were flat and unresponsive.
I wasn’t watching her. I was looking for the shadow I’d seen in the dressing room. There were too many mirrors in this place.
Too many places for the shadow to hide—to lurk and watch me.
I whirled around as something moved in my peripheral, but the only thing reflected in the shining surface was me.
My eyes were wild in the reflection and I straightened up so that I could smooth my hands over my hair to tame it.
“Is everything all right?” the assistant asked. The way her carefully tweezed eyebrow rose toward her hairline didn’t give me any confidence that she would be someone I could confide in.
I almost laughed at the thought of it.
Actually, I’m not okay— You didn’t happen to see my shadow stalker in the mirror just now, did you? Just me? Thought so.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said before I bit down on my lip to keep an insane giggle from slipping out.
Was I losing my mind? Maybe Withermarsh really was starting to affect me.
Or, worse still, were Titus and his brothers getting into my head without me knowing it ?
The thought was unsettling enough to make me shiver, my gaze darting around the room suspiciously. The soft lighting, mimicking real candles with their amber glow, cast erratic shadows around the extravagantly decorated boutique.
“Miss Velez?” The assistant ventured again, her voice puncturing the fog of my thoughts.
I shook my head, snapping out of my reverie. “Thank you,” I muttered, “you’ve been… really helpful.”
That seemed to satisfy her, and she nodded as her painted lips formed a replica of a smile. “A pleasure to help, Miss Velez,” she said and turned away with an enthusiastic hum.
I left in a hurry, the clicking sound of my heels on the glossy marble floor echoing ominously around me. As I stepped out of the boutique and onto the sidewalk, I inhaled sharply—the evening chill was a sudden shock to my senses after the stifling heat and choking clouds of fancy perfume inside.
The driver who had brought me to Messana stood near the black SUV and I flinched as he flicked a cigarette onto the street and its orange tip sparked on the dark cobblestones.
“Ready, miss?” His voice was low and dark, and I nodded nervously.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
He opened the door for me and I slid into the cavernous confines of the SUV’s back seat with my heartbeat still echoing in my ears. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the leather seat as the car slid into motion. But a shiver of unease crawled up my spine as we pulled away from the shop, a feeling I couldn’t shake.
All at once, the roar of motorcycles enveloped the SUV.
Two men on motorcycles pulled even with the car, flanking it on either side as they followed our black SUV through the busy streets of Messana.
My mouth was dry as I stared out the window at them.
I recognized the bikes now .
And even though their helmets obscured their faces, I knew who they were.
I clutched the edges of my coat hard enough to make my knuckles turn white.
I forced myself to release my grip and pressed a finger down on the intercom button.
“Hey,” I said, but it wasn’t loud enough.
“Hey!” I shouted, and the driver’s eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. I gestured wildly at the window. “Do you know those men?”
The driver pressed his own intercom button. “Just relax, Miss Velez. You don’t have to worry.”
His tone was meant to be comforting, but it just sounded condescending.
“Are you sure?” I demanded.
The driver nodded.
“Bullshit,” I muttered, but I sat back in my seat. What else was I supposed to do?
My muscles were tight as I forced myself to sit still. I didn’t want them to know how much they unsettled me, but I knew it wouldn’t matter. They probably already knew. I could almost hear their laughter…
The darkened cityscape of Messana flashed by through the tinted windows, a blur of flickering lights and faceless silhouettes.
The narrowing cobblestone streets veered into wider avenues as the SUV picked up speed and left the heart of the city behind.
Through it all, those two menacing figures on their motorcycles never left our side. Like ominous shadows, they trailed us, swooping closer and then backing off. Challenging cars in the oncoming lane and then swerving at the last possible second while I gasped in helpless fear and their engines echoed like a swarm of angry hornets .
I dug my nails into the leather seats while an anger unlike anything I’d experienced before surged through me.
I was afraid of them—my step brothers—and I hated that I was afraid.
I hated how weak they made me feel.
Their relentless pursuit was also a reminder that escape wasn’t as easy as hopping into an SUV and leaving the city behind.
They trailed us like a pack of hunting hounds, ready to strike should I dare to stray.
I tipped my head back against the cold leather seat and closed my eyes to shield myself from the sickening sight of my stepbrothers’ looming presence. Was it Lucian’s command that they guard me so closely, or were they acting on their own twisted desires—I knew they delighted in tormenting me. This was just part of it.
Sick bastards.
Through the side mirror, I saw one of the bikers catch up with us, dangerously swerving in and out of traffic, toying with death as if he owned it. The streetlights glinted off the visor of his helmet, and I thought I could hear laughter—cold and cruel—and I shook my head to chase it away.
Tension filled the rest of the journey back to Withermarsh.
The shadows cast by the dense forest that lined the road seemed alive as they leapt and lunged at our car. The gloomy surroundings did nothing to soothe my sense of unease—the sense that every tree, and every dark bird that streaked across the sky, was whispering secrets about me.
Finally, after what seemed like centuries, we made it back to Withermarsh, and that same sensation of passing through a magical ward swept over me as we entered the estate’s borders. I could see the house over the stone wall, shrouded in mist and eerie shadows .
As we passed through the magical barrier, the motorcycles thundered louder and surged forward to match the SUV’s speed.
They flanked the car, one on either side, swerving close enough to make me let out a moan of fear, before they roared ahead, and one of them came up on its back wheel before it dropped again and they sped out of sight.
Bastards.
The tall iron gates of the estate stood ominously against the flatness of the twilight sky—a cage to trap me in—and I held my breath as the SUV pulled into the gravel courtyard. As it pulled to a stop in front of the imposing mansion, I barely had a second to catch my breath before the driver pulled open my door. I swallowed hard, slid out of the car, and dared myself to look up at the house, its monstrous silhouette eerily illuminated against the encroaching darkness. I walked toward the house as purposefully as I could, but my steps wavered on the gravel.
I glanced at the garages and pressed my lips together as I saw the two bikes that had been following us. I could see Valen and Bastian standing nearby, their helmets in their hands. Their leather-clad backs were turned toward me, and I could only imagine what they were discussing, but it made the knot in my stomach tighten even more.
As though he sensed my stare, Valen’s head turned toward me, and I flinched as he winked at me and averted my eyes. My pace quickened as their laughter floated on the air and my cheeks burned as I fled toward the house. The front door yawned open, and the creak of the hinges reverberated through the air and made my steps falter just a little.
“Miss Velez.” The housekeeper stood in the doorway and she greeted me with a curt nod. Her dark eyes narrowed as she locked eyes with me and I wondered what she saw in my face—could she hear Valen and Bastian’s laughter? Or did she somehow know what I was feeling ?
No, that was impossible.
“I trust your visit to the boutique was productive?”
“I— I think so,” I replied.
The familiar chill of the house seeped into my bones as I stepped over the threshold and into the house. As the door closed behind me, the echo of its heavy locks falling into place was a cruel reminder of what awaited me within these haunted walls.
I was a prisoner here.
“I— I’ll take dinner in my room,” I choked out as I rushed past the housekeeper and stumbled up the stairs that led to the second floor.
The staircase was long and winding, and each step echoed ominously in the vaulted stairwell.
The large crystal chandelier hung like a glistening spider’s web above me, refracting light into a multitude of shimmering patterns that danced on the stone walls. A breeze I couldn’t feel moved the crystal droplets and reminded me of the ballroom and the crash of the crystals as they had shattered on the floor.
I swallowed hard and averted my gaze as I tightened my hand on the railing and forced my legs to move faster.
Once upstairs, I hurried down the grand hallway lined with paintings and kept my eyes on my shoes—the paintings unnerved me, and I didn’t want to meet their cold, painted gazes.
I pushed open the door and stumbled into my room. As I closed it, I muttered the words of the protection spell I’d cast over it only a few hours before, but the warmth of my spell was gone— Of course. Why did I think I’d be able to perform any kind of magic in this place? I wasn’t strong enough.
I collapsed against the closed door and slid down onto the frigid hardwood floor and tried to banish the echoes of Valen and Bastian’s laughter that still haunted my ears.
Huddled against the door, I cradled my head in my hands and gave myself over to silent sobs .
How had my life come to this? Tears blurred my vision as I thought of Titus’s gloating smirk, Valen’s cruel eyes, and Bastian’s menacing laughter. I desperately wished for an escape, but I knew there wouldn’t be one.