Chapter 10

Astrid

P inching my bottom lip between my fingers, I contemplate my situation. It's not so bad. I'm a married woman now, which is weird, but I don't feel different. And the monster hasn't been mean to me. In fact, my current bedroom provides much nicer accommodations than I have ever had. Nari even served me a wedding meal with a slice of white cake. That was nice.

I could live here.

Who am I kidding? I need to get out.

Even his nice moments are wrought with terror. Like with that searing first kiss, after which he so dismissively tossed me aside. Despite his seductive magic, I can't give in. He may hurt me if I get too close. Things seem pleasant here, but I need to find my brother. This could be my only shot.

Gazing through the tall, arched windows while standing on my green velvet desk chair, I peer out over the manor grounds. Throughout the day, I've studied the paths surrounding the house. That's one benefit to living in a tower, I suppose. If I can leave through the front and scale the iron fence, then I could weave through the trees and into the city below.

Then find Wyatt.

But how do I even get to the entry of this place? That's the problem. This castle has so many turns and doors, I'd get lost, and I don't remember the way I came in. The hallways and back rooms they've led me through don't provide me with many clues about how to navigate my way around.

I may try the attack thing again, but the issue with this room is there aren't many places to hide. The walls are round, and a single candle sconce lights up the entirety of it, though a huge iron chandelier floats above me from the turreted ceiling. There're no shadows to hide within.

In my mind, I imagine giving Nari a flying kick to the face when she brings my next tray, then making a run for it. But it's already past dinnertime, so morning may be my best bet. It's when the light is at its lowest. If I had curtains in here to cover the surrounding windows, then I could make it dark enough to hide.

Maybe I could take a book and hit her in the head. That would work. I don't want to kill anyone. Just knock her to the ground so I can run out and find my way to the front door.

That's it. As soon as morning light breaks, I'll prepare myself. Once I hear her unlocking the heavy door, I'll spring into action and rush her while she holds the tray, then swing at her head with a heavy book, run down the stairs and out of a bottom door.

Excitement pours through me at the possibility of getting out. The only negative I can see is that I don't have shoes and, after they took my wedding dress, the only item of clothing I have is this see-through red shift. It's chilly outside, or it was during the wedding, but hopefully I can make it to someone on the streets below before I succumb to the cold.

Leaning over to the low bookcase, I find Moby Dick and hug it to my chest, slip into bed, then eventually fall asleep, dreaming of being on a ship underneath the stars.

A brushing sound alerts me awake. I sit up straight, waiting to hear it again. Taking a few deep, slow inhales, I pause. But it doesn't come.

Lying back against my pillows, I turn my head to stare at the door. All the windows are pitch black, so it's probably the middle of the night. Just when I think I hallucinated the sound, it happens again, and I freeze.

Through a streak of bright moonlight, I catch the reflection of the brass doorknob turning ever-so-slowly. My chest tightens with fear. Should I pretend to be asleep or jump out and attack whoever is on the other side?

Opting for the first, I close my eyes tight, but peek when the door creaks as it opens. A small woman with pink hair enters. Oh, it's Chloe!

With a harsh whisper, she asks, "Hey. Are you awake?"

Sitting up, I whisper back, "Yeah."

She creeps closer, but waves with her arm out toward the wide-open passageway. "Come on! Let's go! We'll get you out."

My heart thuds harder, and I take the opportunity to leap from the bed and glance around for anything to take with me. It's so dark and my mind so muddled, I can't think of what I need to grab.

"No, leave it all. Drop that book. Let's go. Hurry!"

As soon as I enter the landing at the top of the staircase, she shuts the door behind me and locks it. "Just so it takes them longer to find you." She shuffles with me to the steps, then stops. "You have to go by yourself. I'm not getting whipped for you."

Shaking my head, I whisper, "But where do I go?"

"It's, like, six stories down, and then the door on your right leads to the first floor, then just run. This place is a maze." Grasping my shoulders, she turns me to face her. "Good luck."

Sprinting down the narrow steps, my chilled feet tingle with numbness, the skin on the bottoms scraping against the stones. My panting breaths echo loudly off the walls, bouncing back to my ears until I feel disoriented. To maintain my balance, I keep a palm raking along the outer wall, following it around the twists and turns. Occasionally, a candle lights the way, but it's near impossible to tell how many floors I've gone. I try to count, but I think I'm scared stupid.

Four…

Five…

As if giving me another warning of danger ahead, my stomach groans loudly and twists on itself. I'm so out of shape with not being able to eat as much as I want, but I press on.

Six.

Okay… Three doors lead in different directions. But I choose the door on the right.

Grasping the iron handle, I twist it and press it open slowly.

A gasp crosses my lips as I pass into a two-story living room with deep red patterned carpeting. The plushness feels amazing on my sore feet. An oversized fireplace looms to my right, lit with a warm blaze that heats the entire area and shoots red light in rays across the center. Above the mantel is a large portrait of Consort Strauss, standing with his hand tucked into his coat pocket like a dignitary of the eighteenth century.

Involuntarily, the heat from our first kiss warms my thighs as I gaze up at his foreboding figure, those painted eyes peering down at me with some carnal knowledge I'm not aware of. My pulse was already racing rapidly, but it accelerates at the sight of his face.

The room is so large, I'm not sure where to go next, but as I trail my gaze along the outskirts, my belly twists into a knot. Terror strikes me until I freeze like a doe about to be prey.

My husband leans against a far wall with his arms and legs crossed as if he's been waiting for me. His chiseled jaw flexes, eyes narrowing like a predator when I appear. He's shirtless and his alabaster skin glows in the embers of the dying fire, making all the black inked patterns seem like rivers of blood winding across every corded muscle. His solid figure doesn't move an inch, except for his finger, which points to his right, where a giant grandfather clock sounds its first chime.

Ding!

It's so loud, it deafens the blood pounding in my ears. The sound of the reverberation hasn't even ended before I turn to a set of double doors closest to me and dart through them.

Ding!

I can't even swallow with how arid my throat becomes, but I keep moving, swiveling my head in search of an exit. My eyes betray me when everything blurs. It's a large hallway with several double doors, and I choose the ones directly across from me.

Ding!

Tripping into a dining room, I scan the area, but there's nowhere to hide. At the back, a swinging door leads to the next room. As a shadow crawls over the rug, I run.

Ding!

My toes catch on a raised hardwood board, and I hit the floor, but my hands catch me before my face smashes into it. With a glance over my shoulder, I scream as the master walks at a sure pace straight for me. Scrambling to a stand, I take off at a sprint through the door and into the kitchen.

Ding!

There's a door that leads to the outside just through a small mudroom. Rushing over to it, I grip the handle and twist, but it won't budge. Locked with a key that I can't find. I'm at a dead end!

Ding!

His boots hit the tiles as he makes his way to me. My eyes scan the area for any way to escape. I blink rapidly to clear my vision of the tears threatening to spill over onto my cheeks.

Ding!

I grab the closest thing to me on the wall: a frying pan. As he approaches, I rear back with all my might and take a big swing at his head. His blond hair doesn't move as he dodges the hit with his arms raised to block it, but I dip under him and scamper out through the way I came in.

Ding!

Back in the main hallway, I peer toward the end and spot a solid set of double doors… It could be the entryway. Dashing as fast as I can, I focus on the handles and try to ignore the whimpering sobs escaping my chest. I've never been this terrified in my life.

Images of rushing through white halls in my childhood home mix with those of the black hall here. The world in front of me blurs between the two screens until it's difficult to tell where I am.

Blood. Bodies writhing in pain. Screams of anguish.

Ding!

A flood of relief hits me as I reach the front door and grab one of the handles and tug… But it's locked as well. Turning to face my captor, he walks slowly toward me as if he knows there's nowhere for me to go. Every step he takes makes me see double, my sights clouded with dread. My back presses to the wood, but in my peripheral, I spot a staircase leading to the second story. Go!

Ding!

The moment I decide to dart, he takes off at a full sprint like a bull rushing to gore his runner. I make it to the first set of stairs. As I do, he snags my ankle in his grip and I trip, my chin hitting the edge of a step. The pain shoots through my skull until I'm dazed.

Ding!

My fingers latch onto the stair carpet as I attempt to crawl out from his grasp, but he pulls my hair and surrounds my body with his. Squirming, I scream as loudly as I can, but his hand clamps over my mouth as his waist presses my hips into the angled steps.

A clanking of metal cuts over my crying wails as he undoes his belt and wraps it around my neck, then shoves my dress up.

"No!" I yell in a choked sob, but he tightens the leather around my windpipe, cutting off the rest of the word. The stubble along his jaw tickles my ear as he leans his cheek into me.

Ding!

"Happy eighteenth birthday, wife." His hot breath spreads along my spine, and the utter petrifying panic frays every nerve ending in my body.

As I attempt to raise myself on my knees and elbows, his thick hardness presses between my legs. I try to clamp them closed, but even while I do, he thrusts inside me with a mighty force, ripping everything in his wake as I shriek in agony.

The pain is unbearable. It hurts so badly, my lungs seize. Unlike getting my nose bumped by the girl in the cellar and not like the time I fell out of my window at home while attempting to sneak out to find Wyatt…

This agony is like a fire lit on my insides and is threatening to burn its way out. It doesn't let up as he continues to drag himself out arduously before punching himself back in.

Are dicks supposed to be this huge? This hard?

From the movies I've watched, it shouldn't feel this way. We should be in a bed, and he would face me. Kissing me gently and holding my face like he did this afternoon during our vows. My first time shouldn't be like this. Especially with my husband.

He works inside of me with rough movements and even coarser grunts. Using me like one of his many whores, his hips slap against my backside unrelentingly. If I pull away, I strangle myself, so I just lie there, tears falling down my cheeks as I will him to hurry.

But it seems he's taking his time, forcing some brutal redemption out on my body. When I try to focus on anything else, he spanks my ass cheek over the fresh branding so powerfully, I lurch forward and lose my air again. I vomit up some bit of my cake onto the floor in front of my face. With a hand on the back of my head, he forces my nose into it.

At some point, I give up the fight and relax onto the soaked carpet completely. Fingers loosen their grip, and I just melt.

Wyatt will kill him.

And as if he heard my thoughts, he tugs on his belt, raising my back to his chest as he gives a final thrust inside my ravaged pussy.

"Your brother is dead. You were the last Barrington. But now you're mine."

Then hot liquid spews into me as I grit my teeth against his intrusion, my heart shattering as he comes. Is it true?

Is my brother dead?

In deathly silence, he pulls out of me as I slump against the hard floor.

I don't even move. Why should I? What's the use anymore?

His steps wander away up the stairs, but I remain still. Tearing aches rage between my thighs, which are now soaked with his spend and my blood.

It hurts to breathe. My chest feels as if it has caved in, and I want it to.

I long for death.

Closing my eyes as tightly as I can, I will myself to die. But it doesn't work.

In a few moments, a small figure approaches from the hall beneath me. It climbs a few steps, then kneels to peer into my face. Blinking at Chloe, some part of me wonders about the transformation in her countenance from caring ally to cold bitch.

"Welcome to the family, Mrs. Strauss." With a haughty laugh, she continues upward, her feet following my husband.

In the hours that pass, my devastation devolves into a want for destruction. The clock chimes once. Twice. Three times.

I rot.

The burning torment within my ashen body changes from a tribulation to a charge for triumph.

Somewhere in my defeat, I decide. He will not break me. If my only reason for living is to win, I'll do it. Perhaps it's a delusion, but I refuse to believe my brother is dead. The enemy is probably lying in order to get me to crumble. But from the rubble, I'll turn into a raging Phoenix.

My innocence was torn from me. So I resolve to get revenge.

He thought I was a snake…

But he hasn't even seen my fangs yet.