Page 24

Chapter 24

EZEKIEL

O ne by one, I dislodge the long, rusted nails that skewer her feet.

Her agonizing cries make me want to slaughter the corrupt bastards who did this to her all over again. Once I remove the nails, I reach for the remaining ripped fabric and wrap her wounded feet. Blood seeps through the material and onto my crimson-stained hands, and I retrieve more cloth from one of the bodies, hoping that some extra pressure will be enough to stop the bleeding. Something is better than nothing, so this will have to do for now, at least until I figure out how to get help to Atlantara.

A deep voice reverberates over the silence, and Airlie’s body stiffens in response. “It’s about time, boy,” a man calls out, and I turn in the direction of the voice to see a tall figure standing at the head of the altar, wearing a similar costume to the others, only this guy has a white clerical collar beneath his cape.

I narrow my gaze, sensing Airlie’s panic a breath away, but she has no reason to be afraid. Not with me at her side.

The priest.

Finally, I can put a face to the monster.

“I’m glad you could fucking join us. I was hoping to save your death till last,” I say, promising, a tight smile forming on my lips, but there is only contempt beneath it.

I’m going to enjoy tearing him limb from fucking limb.

Grimsby steps out from the shadows and into the muted candlelight. “I think we needn’t exchange pleasantries. I’ve known about your existence for long enough, and I must say, I feel like I already know you,” he says, his deep voice aged, his tone matching my disdain. His presence does nothing more than rekindle the outrage I felt earlier.

Of course, The Royal let the cat out of the bag. For such a secretive society, they didn’t waste any time telling every Tom, Dick, and Harry about me.

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to get free and come looking,” he says, gazing down at the massacre that decorates the floors and walls from atop the altar, though he doesn’t dare to come any closer.

What the fuck does he mean by ‘get free?’.

How long has this asshole known about me?

Or how long has he known that I’ve been here at Atlantara?

I keep these questions to myself and give him a poignant look of impassivity. The proverbial mask I’ve come to know so well falls straight into place, just like old times. If this asshole thinks he can best me, he has another thing coming.

“I can’t say I’m in the mood for whatever depraved bullshit that spews from your fucking mouth. I’ve been otherwise occupied, if you can’t tell,” I retort, and my eyes shoot straight to Airlie’s, needing to reassure her that everything will be okay.

Her expression is a mix of fear and uncertainty, solidifying that I have to make this quick. She’s seen enough death to last a lifetime, today alone. And as much as I’d love to prolong the priest’s torture, my girl needs medical attention.

“Oh, on the contrary, Ren, or is it Ezekiel? I can’t be sure. You are a liar, after all,” he scoffs as if he isn’t the fucking worst of humankind.

Maybe he knows a little more than I thought. I don’t remember Airlie saying my name before, and that can only mean that he’s either done his research on me or he has been spying on us. Nothing would surprise me at this point with these people.

I step forward. The only thing on my mind right now is how good it will feel when I finally beat his face to a bloody pulp, and he’s lying lifeless on the floor with the rest of them. Whatever he says is irrelevant, knowing the things he’s done to my girl and to the countless other innocent victims whose lives he’s destroyed. Whether or not there are survivors when all of this is over, their lives have been scarred and ruined. Because to survive is to be forced to live the remainder of their days with his face burned into their memories.

A life sentence far worse than any prison.

“Cut the shit, priest . You don’t get to call me a fucking liar when you lie to yourself, and everyone, else each day that you wake up and hide beneath that collar. Besides, we both know how this ends, so why don’t you save your breath while you’ve still got it,” I seethe, contempt coursing through my veins. The word priest feels like poison in my mouth as I stare up at the man who hurt, no, abused, the woman I love.

“I knew she’d be safe out there with you. I was only hoping that your relationship would move along a little faster than it had, in the physical sense, but unfortunately, it didn’t. It would have been nice for her to have fallen pregnant. At the very least, it would have earned back her keep.”

Heat pricks my ears as I am consumed by the hatred I feel toward this scumbag.

How fucking dare he speak about my girl like that.

“Speak of her again, and I will force your entrails down your throat,” I threaten, my words like promised venom, but he remains nonchalant, taking another step.

“Actually, boy . I will say whatever the devil I want. Not even you, brave or not, will stop me. I do not take orders from the likes of you. And to be perfectly honest, I’m not so interested in talking to you, period. It’s her I want.” Before I can respond, he stares down at Airlie. Not a hint of remorse for what he’s done flashes across his face. He doesn’t care about anyone or anything.

He’s sick.

Twisted in the worst way imaginable, and there is no God strong and powerful enough to fucking save him.

“Her mother and I were acquainted before her stay here at Atlantara. And if it weren’t for that good-for-nothing Titan King, we would never have met at all, would you believe it? But alas, she died in the end. Tragic, really.” His beady eyes form into slits as he says Titan’s name, only smiling when he speaks of Airlie’s mother’s death.

He will die for this.

How the fuck does he know Titan, and what does that have to do with Airlie’s mother?

I decide to humor him. For no other reason than for Airlie to get some sort of information about her mother. “What does Titan have to do with it?” I question, feigning indifference, as his dark, narrow eyes scan the tapestries hanging on the stone.

“Titan is Airlie’s biological father,” he says matter-of-factly, then brushes it off as if he didn’t just drop a bomb on both Airlie’s and my life.

He walks over to one of the tapestries and pulls it off the wall with two hands, revealing a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the dock. Bright, blinding light fills the room, forcing me to squint as my eyes adjust to the onslaught.

Well, this is brand new information. Titan told me fucking none of this. I never questioned Titan’s motives regarding all things The Royal because any other reason, other than the obvious, didn’t matter to me. Taking down the biggest human and sex trafficking ring on the planet was motivation enough for me, so I didn’t need convincing.

To top it all off, if this is true, it means that I am in love with my boss’s daughter. Boss, as in, the head of the fucking mafia.

Making Airlie a mafia princess.

Does Titan know about this? Surely he can’t.

If I live through this, I’m a dead man.

I’ll climb that mountain when I get to it, but for now, Airlie is the only thing that matters to me. If I kill the priest right now, she might never know the truth of how she came to be, and I can’t deny her that. I know what it feels like. The never-knowing. And this is her only chance to question the priest before I rip his jaw off its hinges.

My eyes scan Airlie’s wide, vivid, aquamarine ones, her expression filled with agony, but I detect a hint of hope swirling around in them. I can hear her words almost as if she spoke them to me out loud.

She has a family.

Life is a long, long, lonely road when you’re forced to live it on your own, and despite Airlie not being alone anymore, now that she has me, I want nothing more than for her to be happy and experience a family she deserves. I only hope that’s what comes of this.

That thought is what persuades me to question Grimsby further.

“If Titan is Airlie’s biological father, why did her mother end up here… with you ?” I ask, not taking my eyes off him now that he's closer. His very live presence makes me uncomfortable because my every fucking instinct tells me to kill him.

“Oh, you don’t know? I thought Titan would have at least told you, considering he’s had you spy on us for the best part of four years.” His temper rises, his holier-than-thou facade slipping, as he spins around and pins me with a menacing glare.

I reach for the cape draped over the shoulders of one of the dead bodies and lay it over Airlie, a blanket covering her naked body from his wandering, rapist eyes. I don’t give a single fuck what he does to me, but he won’t get the chance to do anything to my girl again.

I can tell that he doesn’t like how I am with her by the sweat beading on his wrinkled forehead, put there by anger and jealousy. I glower at him. Daring him to challenge me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he continues speaking.

What is it with priests and their sermons?

“Her mother, Charlotta, was just like the rest of them. Riddled with sin. She didn’t want a child. So, she ran to the nearest church and begged God for forgiveness because she wanted to abort her unborn baby. She claimed that the father was a dangerous man, and his lifestyle wasn't safe to raise a child. Of course, we couldn’t let her follow through with it, now could we?” he explains, and I can feel Airlie’s heart breaking with this information.

I reach for her hand on instinct but remember her wounds, so I rest my hand atop her arm instead.

“We learned that Titan was investigating The Royal about a year ago, but we weren’t aware of your involvement.” He gives me a pointed look, but I don’t respond. “It wasn’t until Captain Lancaster, or rather, Spencer Philips, spilled the beans about what you had all been up to. He sang like a canary when Charles cornered him. Well, as far as I know, it was the other way around. Your friend wanted money. They always do. And, of course, he wasn’t going to get it. That’s not how we do things around here. Charles did a deal with him to hand over cash if he took you out of the equation,” he says, shaking his head and gazing out the window, staring out at the ocean.

Spencer, that rat fucking bastard.

I knew he wanted out of the Mafia, but I didn’t think he’d sell us all out. As well as the souls of thousands of innocent people, women, and children, and for what, money ? It makes me feel a whole lot better about blowing him up.

I say nothing as I contemplate the priest.

There is no soul hidden behind all that garb and aged skin. He’s made a lot of people money, and if it weren’t for me throwing a spanner in the works, he’d be making way more for a lot longer. He will want revenge for that, making me his number one target.

“Later that evening, I learned that my sister and her husband were sent to God as nothing more than ashes and dust,” he adds, his ears turning red with anger, simmering just below his surface.

I hate to break it to this idiot, but if he thinks Charles and Valerie Jensen were worthy of deity tickets, then he’s fucking delusional. I’ve met my fair share of pretentious, arrogant dickheads who all thought way too highly of themselves. Being in The Royal was rather eye-opening in that regard. But I am not delusional enough to believe that our souls would be even remotely salvageable after what we’ve all done here on Earth.

“How did you know I was here?” I question, growing rather bored and impatient with his bullshit.

He turns to face me, a crooked smile tilting at the corners of his thin, disgusting lips. He reaches into his pocket, and I stiffen, my body ready for anything as he pulls out a… ring .

My signet ring.

He twirls it around his middle finger and then glares at me with hostility. I keep my mask of indifference, despite being tempted to laugh in his fucking face.

“One of the guards found this, washed up in a little rock pool about a week after I learned of the death of my sister. I asked the guard to search the island for other potential belongings from the ship, but to my surprise, he discovered you chained to a wall instead.”

He circles us, an old wolf holding onto his last shred of supremacy before he’s taken out by a much younger, much stronger alpha. I look down at Airlie, not wanting her to feel unseen or for her to feel like she’s alone in this. I need to remind her that I am and always will be right by her side.

I would have done anything to hear her words, but she and I are so far beyond words that it isn’t funny. We speak in a language that no one else would ever understand. She’s the only person who knows me, the real me, not the man behind this invisible, bloodthirsty mask. And no matter what happens, that is one thing that will never, ever change.

I love her.

The priest surrounds us, whispering prayers to each and every single one of the decapitated bodies that lay in pieces on the floor. Each slow step he makes is calculated, an attempt at intimidation, hiding behind prayer.

Newsflash, it won’t work.

Fucking poser.

And that’s coming from me, an undercover ghost.

The half-wit doesn’t realize that he’s been waving around a tracking device, and I can only assume that Titan was alerted by its movement and will be sending help. Hopefully, sooner rather than later. Now that I know why the mission to destroy The Royal was so important to him, I don’t doubt for a second that help is coming.