Текст книги "Vicious secrets"
Автор книги: Morgan Bridges
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Vicious Secret
THE OBSIDIAN ORDER
MORGAN BRIDGES
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Vicious Secret – The Obsidian Order
Book One
by Morgan Bridges
Copyright © 2024 Building Bridges Publishing
Cover art and design by Silviya Andreeva of
Dark Imaginarium Art.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.
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The Obsidian Order
Vicious Secret
Vicious Society
Possessing Her
Once You’re Mine
Now You’re Mine
Dark & Dirty Vows
A Match Made in Hate
I Thee Lust
To Have & to Hurt
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If you see the villain and think his
red flags look like Six Flags,
then enjoy the ride.
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Author’s Note:
A list of trigger warnings can be located on my website: https://www.authormbridges.com/
Welcome to the Dark Side.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Appendix
Once You’re Mine
Morgan Bridges
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Chapter 1 XAVIER
Three Years Ago…
Who is she?
I squint at the grainy black and white screen, wanting to see the young woman better. Her brows snap together right before she walks up to my target, Benjamin McKenzie, and pokes him in the chest. Despite the fact that I was sent to watch him, my gaze narrows on her.
“You’re not giving up this opportunity for me.” She jabs her finger in his sternum one more time with him towering over her. Then the girl plants her hands on her jean-clad hips and glares up at him. Feisty little thing. “This scholarship is too important to throw away. I mean it.”
He reaches out to cup her cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you,” he whispers. “You’re everything to me, Lilah.”
Benjamin has a weakness. This girl could get him killed.
If the Obsidian Order ever found out about her…
I exhale, and the noise is lost in the stillness of the empty room. Soon, this part of his life—and this girl—will be gone and forgotten, similar to the abandoned house I’m in. The dingy, off-white paint is peeling in places, and the glass has cracks throughout, similar to a spider’s web. A death trap.
I’ve lived in one my entire life, except mine was opulent.
Although the girl rolls her eyes, her face softens. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. You’re the one who taught me to defend myself. Remember?”
Benjamin shakes his head. “It’s not enough. Come with me. I’ll find a way to—”
“To what, Ben? To hide me in your dorm room for the next couple of years? Listen, I know you’re good with computers and all, but even that’s a stretch for you.” She pauses, and her gaze hardens with resolution. “You know I can’t leave the littles.”
My target goes rigid, the tautness of his muscles visible even through the tiny camera lens. “I know,” he whispers.
She pulls away from him with a wry smile and smooths out her faded blue tank top. “If that jerk downstairs tries anything, I’ll kick his ass. End of story.”
I run my gaze over her body. She’s petite with slightly rounded hips, little muscle tone, and barely over five feet in height. If she’s a threat, then I’m the fucking Tooth Fairy.
Benjamin grabs her shoulders and lightly shakes her. Her shocked expression quickly morphs into one of wariness, but it’s nothing compared to the desperate energy rolling off of him.
“Listen to me,” he says. “Frank is stupid, but he’s stronger than you.”
She jerks from his hold, causing her long hair to sway along her back. “Then I’ll be faster.”
“Damn it, Delilah!”
His shout is so loud I swear I hear it from across the street, as well as through the speakers of my laptop. He mutters to himself, and I catch him repeating her name. A frown tugs at my mouth.
I hope that’s not her real name. If so, Benjamin really should leave her behind.
He rakes a hand through his hair. “Don’t be so naïve. You know what Frank’s going to do to you the second I walk out that door tomorrow morning.”
“I won’t let it happen.” Her nostrils flare with disgust before her gaze narrows. I wish I knew what color her eyes are. “No one’s going to hurt me or the girls.”
“There’s no way you can avoid him for the next three years,” Benjamin says. “Don’t be stupid.”
Her bottom lip trembles, bringing my attention to her lush mouth. She can’t be more than fifteen, maybe sixteen, yet she looks like a full-grown woman. It’s easy to see why she’d attract attention, unwanted or not.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” Delilah says, her voice steady in spite of the heated exchange. “If Frank touches me or Emily or Sandra, I’ll kill him.”
Benjamin folds his arms. “I should kill him. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about you guys.”
That’s what I would do, but I’ve been trained for this. You’ll learn soon enough, recruit.
Delilah sighs. “No, Ben. It has to be self-defense, or you’ll end up in prison. Now who’s being stupid?” She lifts her chin. “I’m not arguing with you anymore. When you’re done being pissed at me, come and say goodbye.”
My target flinches when she slams the door behind her. I scoff. Whoever this girl is, she has Benjamin by the balls.
I switch to the camera located in Delilah’s room. It’s the same as Benjamin’s, with only a bed, a nightstand, and very few personal effects or decorations anywhere.
If you ignore her beauty.
I’ve grown up around money and women who know how to use it to their advantage. Clothes, cosmetics, and medical enhancements. If it can be bought, I’ve seen it done. Delilah’s attractiveness doesn’t faze me.
The fact that she’s important to my target is the only reason I allow myself to watch her for a few minutes. She walks over to the bed and sinks onto a mattress covered with a threadbare blanket. Then she grabs a snow globe with a castle inside, running her fingers over the smooth glass.
Her brow furrows as she stares at the object, and she purses her lips. I watch her face, intrigued by how expressive it is. She doesn’t try to hide her emotions from showing. Such a liability.
I click the button to shift back to Benjamin’s room. When the screen displays an empty space, I quickly run through the different cameras to locate him. The hallway, stairwell, and the living room show no signs of my target.
My lips thin at his sudden disappearance, but the second my laptop brings up the feed from the kitchen, my pulse kickstarts. Benjamin stands in the doorway with his hands fisted at his sides. Frank Goldstein, his foster parent, reaches into the refrigerator for a beer and straightens, twisting off the bottle cap and taking a long drink.
“What the hell do you want?” he asks, his words slurred.
Benjamin steps further into the kitchen and over the debris scattered across the uneven linoleum floor. The countertops are littered with empty beer cans, crumpled snack bags, and the cabinets hang at an angle, about to fall off. My disgust is nothing more than a passing thought as my target’s voice fills my ears. There’s a resolute thread to his tone that shoots adrenaline into my blood.
“You know why I’m here,” he says.
Frank waves a hand. “Your little girlfriend?” When Benjamin nods, the older man grins. “What about her?”
“Stay away from her and the others.”
The middle-aged man snorts. “Or what?”
Benjamin takes a menacing step forward, and I jump to my feet. Although my orders were only to watch the bastard son of the late Harold McKenzie, I’m pretty fucking sure the founding families don’t want him to die.
He won’t on my watch.
If he dies, I’ll have signed my own death warrant.
I pull up my hoodie to obscure my features before I race down the rickety stairwell, out the back door, and across the street toward the house I’ve been surveilling for the past few days. The soles of my boots pound against the pavement before the noise is muffled by the overgrown grass covering the backyard. Thoughts swirl in my mind with all the possible outcomes of this confrontation and none of them are ideal.
The firearm in my waistband calms my thundering pulse. However, stealth is necessary in this situation. Not that a gunshot would be surprising in this shitty part of the city.
I reach for the knife in my boot, my fingers curving around the handle with a familiarity that’s a result of the terrors still haunting me.
Tonight, I’ll be someone else’s nightmare.
A masculine roar is followed by a crash as I rush up to the back door that leads into the kitchen. Through the window, I scan the shit show that could get me in trouble with The Order—and more importantly, my father.
Frank has Benjamin pinned against the refrigerator. Every time he punches the young man, the bottles inside rattle from the strength of the impact. My target gets in a solid hit, but it’s not enough. If I don’t intervene, he’ll be dead in minutes.
I grip the doorknob just as a streak of blonde fills my gaze. Delilah rushes into the room, her hair whipping out behind her, jade eyes wide and shimmering with rage.
In one fluid motion, she grabs a cutting knife off the counter before sinking it into Frank’s back. He bellows like a wounded bear, his head thrown backward. The young woman rips out the blade with a grunt and stabs him for a second time.
The savage beauty of her stuns me.
My lips part as I suck in a breath, ignoring the shouts of pain from Frank and the warnings Benjamin gives through labored pants. Delilah darts in front of my target and takes up a defensive stance while facing her foster parent. Tiny drops of crimson splatter onto the floor, and another rivulet of blood snakes its way down her raised forearm, painting her skin with violence.
She’s fucking magnificent.
“If you touch him, I’ll kill you,” she says. Her voice is so quiet I can barely make it out, but the fire underneath is scorching. “I mean it, Frank.”
Delilah was a woman in the Bible who betrayed the man she was supposed to have loved. This girl, like all the other women I’ve ever met, should live up to her namesake. Except she doesn’t.
I was wrong. She is a threat. And not just to Benjamin.
If this is what has my target snared like an animal in a trap waiting to die, then I fully understand. And I envy him. So fucking much.
A surge of want rises in me. It’s so sudden and strong, it causes me to stumble back and loosens my grip on the knife. Delilah is an anomaly, a type of woman I didn’t know existed. One who’s willing to put herself in danger for someone, even if it means she’ll die. That deep, unshakeable loyalty…
I want that.
I need it.
I need her.
I don’t give a shit what the girl’s name symbolizes. Delilah is mine.
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Chapter 2DELILAH
“Sweet mother of fuck.”
I lean against the bedroom door with a loud sigh. Ben chuckles at my outburst and then grimaces, clutching his ribs. “Don’t make me laugh.”
I throw up my arms in exasperation, probably resembling an inflatable tube man. “I’m not trying to be funny.” I glare at him. “Seriously? What in the world were you thinking to threaten Frank like that?”
“Me?” My foster brother shoots me an incredulous look. “I’m not the one who stabbed him. You’re one to talk.”
“That’s fair.” I give him a gentle shove towards the bed. Once he’s laying down, I hand him the bag of frozen mixed vegetables. “Don’t give me that look,” I say, shoving the item in his face. “It’s not like we have fancy ice packs in this dump.”
Ben takes the bag and presses it to his side with a hiss. A frown pulls at my lips, but I’m quick to smooth out my features. If it’s one thing my foster brother hates, it’s to see me upset.
Considering I just stabbed someone, I’m pretty freaked out. On the positive side, at least I didn’t kill Frank. That shitbag better not bleed to death, or I’ll be screwed.
“Sit with me, Lilah.”
The nickname melts some of the tension still gripping my body. I smile at Ben and plop onto the bed next to him. My movements jostle him a little, and my grimace returns.
“Sorry.”
He shakes his head. “I could’ve died if you hadn’t interfered.”
“There’s no way I would’ve let that happen.” I take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze. “We’re family.”
His gaze sweeps over me with agonizing slowness. “Right. Family.”
A flush works its way up my neck at his intense stare, and I retract my hand to avoid any awkwardness. There shouldn’t be any between us. Ben is the one who took me to buy training bras and pads when I was twelve and he was fifteen. He’s the person who listened to me cry over a piece-of-shit mother who abandoned me.
But things have changed recently.
Maybe it’s because Ben’s a legal adult and I’m fifteen, still a kid to him. Or it could be because he’s leaving, and now he’s pushing me away to avoid missing me. I know I’m going to lose my mind without him around.
The one person who can keep me safe will be gone in the morning. That leaves everything on my shoulders. At least I still have that knife.
“So, now what?” I ask. “Are you done being mad at me?”
He blows out a breath, looking up at the ceiling. “I’ve never been able to stay mad at you for very long. You know that.”
“Yeah, but this is different. Either Frank will get the hint that I’m not messing around with him, or he’ll be more pissed off than before. Regardless, I won’t leave the girls alone. I need you to understand that.”
Ben flicks his gaze to me. “I do understand. I just hate the idea of not being here when you need me.”
“You act like we’re never going to see each other again.” I make a serious face. “Don’t make me stab you. I’m pretty good at it.”
“Lilah…”
“I’m going to get a job and save up for a cellphone, and then we’ll text and call all the time. You just watch.” I lightly punch him in the shoulder. “Then, I’m going to study my ass off to get into that fancy college too. I mean, there has to be a scholarship for people who are smart but poor as fuck, right?”
My foster brother rolls his eyes at me. “How do you think I got in?”
“See?”
“True.”
“What’s that place called again? South Harbor Institute of Technology?” I grin at him, showing my teeth. “I hope so ’cause the acronym is ‘shit.’”
His lips twitch. “You know that’s not the name. It’s called South Harbor University.”
I hang my head. “Yeah, well, Boston is two hours away, which isn’t walkable.”
Ben lifts his arm to run his fingers down my cheek.
I go completely still. It’s not that he’s never touched me before. When he taught me how to throw a punch there was definitely some contact, but that was platonic.
This is… intimate.
“Lilah, I’ll come see you every chance I get, okay?”
I nod and he drops his arm. “I better go check on the girls,” I say. “Are you good? Do you need another ice pack? And by ‘ice pack,’ I mean frozen corn this time.”
He shakes his head with a thin smile. “I’m fine. It’s just some bruising. You should see the other guy.”
I wink at him. “Right? I hope you sleep okay. If you need anything, let me know.”
“Thank you,” he says, his voice threaded with emotion. “I mean it.”
“Always. You’d do the same for me.”
“Always.”
After getting to my feet, I head toward the door, keeping my steps even. Nerves skitter along my arms and legs, and it takes everything I have not to run once I’m in the hallway. It’s not just because of my need to check on the girls again. There’s something heavy in the atmosphere. When you’re under a constant threat of danger, you learn to trust your instincts more.
And people less.
The house—that’s more of a two-story shack—takes on a life of its own at night. The warped floorboards groan as I make my way down the narrow hallway to the girls’ room. I strain to pick up on any unusual sounds that could indicate Frank’s intent on revenge, but there’s nothing except my light footsteps and the hum of distant traffic.
I grab the doorknob and slowly twist it. Opening the door a crack, I peer inside, my gaze landing on the single twin mattress that takes up most of the tiny room. Emily and Sandra are curled up together like a pair of kittens. Their adorable faces are at ease despite the monsters lurking in the night.
Specifically, the one downstairs.
Relief loosens the tightness in my chest at finding them peacefully asleep. Neither of them have shared whatever horrors they experienced before coming to live with me in this foster home, but at eleven and nine years old, they carry a worldliness about them that breaks my heart. Even so, they’ve blossomed under my and Ben’s protection and love.
“I’ll keep you safe,” I whisper, more to myself than them. It’s a promise that I’ve dedicated my life to. In the next three years, I might end up sacrificing it, but I’m okay with the idea of dying for the girls.
I’ve never had anyone besides Ben willing to do that for me, and I’ve made my peace with it. Getting lucky enough to have him as my foster brother almost makes all the bad things in my life worth it. He’s replaced years of abandonment with a platonic love.
I’ve given up on the dream of a romantic one.
After picking up a doll bed, one of the girls’ few toys, I close the door and head toward my room. The knife that I stabbed Frank with lies on my nightstand. Even in the darkness, I can make out the red stain coating the blade. I wonder if it’s had enough time to dry…
The sight of it turns my stomach. But not with regret. Never.
I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly before picking up the weapon and wiping it off. There’s another cutting knife taped under my bed frame, but it’s not as long or as sharp. I brought the other one with me from the previous home I stayed in. No, that’s not right. It was a house, not a home.
I’ve never had one of those.
The closest I’ve gotten was finding Ben and the girls, but I know deep down that’s not the true definition. A home is where you feel loved and safe.
I creep back toward the stairwell with my items, the hilt of the worn blade fitting comfortably in my palm. My forehead wrinkles with concentration as I carefully count the stairs and place the doll bed on the sixth one from the top, far left when facing the stairwell.
Task complete, I climb back up to the landing and drop to the floor into a sitting position with my back against the wall. I’ve appointed myself as my found-family’s guardian for tonight. And every night.
If Frank comes up to the second floor, he’ll regret it.
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Chapter 3DELILAH
The seconds crawl by, slowly turning into minutes that become hours. My muscles relax, but not enough for me to fall into a deep sleep. Years of vigilance have sharpened my senses to the point I wonder if I’ll ever sleep peacefully again.
I guess I’ll rest when I’m dead.
As if conjured by my thoughts, a dark energy permeates the atmosphere like a cold wind, making my skin prickle and my eyes fly open. I shift into a crouch while my heart gallops in my chest, urging me to run with every beat. I grip my knife more tightly instead.
If it’s flight or fight, I choose violence.
Cloaked in darkness, the intruder makes their way up the stairs, coming closer with every second. Their movement carries an air of stealth and purpose that’s too focused and refined to be Frank. It’s not that I can hear or see this person clearly from my position. I can feel them.
Their presence is confirmed the instant their shadow slides up the wall and when they step on the stair with the toy. A loud creak breaks the silence like a mirror being struck with a hammer. The noise is my signal to act.
Hesitation could get me killed.
My instincts have me lunging forward with my knife raised. The blade sinks into flesh before my eyes fully take in the figure directly in front of me. A masculine grunt sweeps past my ears as I jerk back my arm, ready to strike again.
The assailant moves with lightning speed. He blocks my attack by grabbing my wrist, the sudden jolt sending a tremor through my body. Before I can regroup, he squeezes my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin with a merciless pressure. The knife falls from my hand to hit the carpet with a thud. It’s the clang foretelling my impending death.
The tenor of his voice eclipses all other sound—low, smooth, and tinged with a quiet amusement that confuses me.
“Not bad,” he says, jutting his chin at the stab wound in his shoulder, “but not good enough.”
My wrist tingles under his punishing grip, but it’s nothing compared to the hold he has on my senses. I peer up at him, struggling to make out his features still concealed by the black hood covering his head.
Whoever he is, he’s not a squatter or junkie like I first assumed. This man’s speech pattern is articulate, full of decorum and education. I’d bet my left tit this guy comes from money. So, what in the hell brings him to this side of town?
“Who are you?” I ask.
His response is to shove me back, sending me crashing into the wall behind me. The impact steals my breath, and I stare at him, our gazes level. He remains on the stairs, and I stay on the landing. He has to be over six feet tall; very intimidating to my five-foot-five self.
I straighten my upper body, keeping my knees bent in preparation to fight. “Who the hell are you?”
“You first, little raptor.”
“I’m not a fucking dinosaur.”
“No, but you are a clever girl. You put that toy on the stair so I’d step around it and the wood would creak, letting you know someone was coming. Right?”
I nod while wondering at the asinine turn the conversation has taken. “Listen, if you don’t get out of here, I’m going to scream.”
“Ah, ah,” he says, clicking his tongue in admonishment. “Benjamin is still recovering from getting his ass beaten, so he can’t help you. Besides, you wouldn’t want to wake up the girls, would you?”
I don’t know how this guy knows all of this information, but he can go fuck himself. Hard.
“What do you want?” I snap.
Although I can’t see his eyes, I can feel the heat of his gaze as it sweeps over me from head to foot, returning to my face. I scrutinize him in return, wishing I could kill him with a single glance.
“What I want and what I intend to do are two separate things,” he says. The unknown meaning behind his words both piques my curiosity and terrifies me. “All you need to know is that you’re safe.”
A harsh laugh bursts from me. “Really?” I give him a pointed look. “I don’t believe that shit for a second.”
He nods. The moonlight streaming through the window glides over the lower half of his face, revealing sculpted lips twisted in a smirk, a nearly straight nose, and a square chin. The youthfulness of his features contrasts heavily with the aura of danger surrounding him. He can’t be much older than Ben, yet he commands the room as if bearing the experience of a man a decade older.
I glance at the knife on the floor, silently calculating the seconds it would take for me to grab it and stab this guy. Again. Only this time, I wouldn’t have the element of surprise.
“Don’t even think about it,” he says.
“I thought I was safe?”
“You’re safe from the world, but not from me.”
Fear streaks through my veins, making my heart beat dangerously fast. I fist my hands at my sides to curb my impulse to reach for the fallen weapon. “What does that even mean?”
“Listen carefully, little raptor.” I bristle at the stupid nickname but remain silent when he continues speaking. “Frank won’t ever threaten you or anyone else ever again. I promise you, Delilah.”
I don’t know what shocks me more: the idea of my foster parent no longer being a danger to me, or the fact that this stranger said my name like he knows me. My legs threaten to buckle at the renewed adrenaline rush flooding my system. I glare at the man while reining in my body’s need for action.
“What do you mean? Is Frank gone? You’re not making any sense.”
“Aren’t I?” He tilts his head. “Let me be clear: I killed him… but not before torturing an apology on your behalf from him. Once your name crossed his lips, I removed his tongue for saying it in the first place. Now do you understand?”
The air thickens with malevolence. It seeps into my body, clogging my lungs and making it difficult to breathe. My breaths come out in tiny pants as his words fully penetrate my mind.
The stranger makes his way up the stairs with a lethal grace that I admire, although I’d never admit it. He might be young, but his every move speaks of power and authority. That’s as much a part of him as his skin.
I throw out my hands and press my spine against the wall. “Stay back.” My high-pitched voice has me mentally cringing at the show of weakness. My warning holds no more power than I do at this moment.
He stops. Stunned, I can only stare helplessly as he slowly folds his arms across his chest. With him being on the same level, he towers over me, looming like a demon despite proclaiming to be my guardian angel.
“Why?” My whispered question is the only sound in the night. As I wait for his response, I swear my heart is going to burst out of my chest.
“Why?” he repeats softly. “Because no one touches what’s mine.”
Despite this man breaking into the house and admitting to murder, I can’t stifle the righteous indignation that surges through my body. I lift my chin in defiance. “I’m not yours.”
“Not yet.”
I part my lips to say something appropriate to that ridiculous statement, like a “fuck you” or “kiss my ass,” but he turns around and descends the steps without another word.
My head spins until I grow dizzy and sit down on the carpet to avoid fainting.
What—and I can’t stress this enough—the fuck just happened?
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