Page 43 of Monstrous Grave

From Viper’s mic, I hear an even louder shot, causing his breath to hitch. I’ve never heard him so unnerved before—the notorious leader of the Garcías and the biker who never gets scared. I clench my teeth with such force that the metallic tang of blood floods my mouth.

Suddenly, Viper’s voice rings loud and clear in my ear, a panicked tone mingled with anger that makes sweat bead on my forehead. “Arcane, get out of there as soon as fucking possible!”

“What’s going on?” I can’t keep my voice from quivering.

“They never fucking got here,” he says until another screeching sound arrives, loud voices booming.

Far off in the distance, I hear the sound of Benjamin Valenti’s voice, and another one that makes my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach—a voice I never wished to hear again. Peter Grimaldi, our foster father.

“Angel, they lied to you. They fucking lied to you.” I hear the distress in his voice, which only has me spiraling into a panicked state of mind.

My ears ring, blood pulsating through me until all I can hear is a thudding sound, an ache spreading through my head.

“Get out of there!” Viper breaks through the fog in my ears, and I snap to attention.

I dash through the corridor toward the back exit where I entered. Only now, the guard’s corpses are gone, with only their blood a testament to them ever having been there.

“Fuck,” I whisper, pushing forward.

Right as I reach the exit, I run into something solid. I expect it to be Viper, but when my eyes look up, I see Viper held back by two heavily armed guards, his eyes trained on mine with a cold expression while hiding everything he feels. My body is crushed to the gravelly ground, and I meet the eyes of the man who condemned me to hell when he threw me out of his home.

Shit, shit, shit.

A voice comes from my earpiece, and it’s not Viper’s.

“I’m sorry, Arcane.”

Alec’s voice is steady and clear, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

And then, everything turns black.

Chapter 19

Arcane

A seeping chill settles in my marrow, my eyelids fluttering as the dimly lit room gradually appears. Heart in my throat, I attempt to sit up, only to realize my limbs are restrained by chains biting into my skin, cutting off the blood circulation.

Panic surges like a live wire through my veins as memories flood back in disjointed fragments—a near-success operation retrieving the drive from the submarine, only to realize Viper never made it into the building. A sledgehammer pounds in my skull, and I groan. A lethal concoction of emotions threatens to suffocate me.

What happened to him after the guards held him back? He appeared battered, hair ruffled with a split lip and bruises forming around his eye—signs of a fight having taken place.

“Angel, they lied to you. They fucking lied to you.”

If I could, I would press my palm against my mouth to stem the tide of bile rising, but I can’t. Nausea overtakes me, and vomit spews out of my mouth, splattering onto the floor by my feet. Tears brim the corners of my eyes as a heavy feeling settles in my gut.

The Valentis lied to me.

A single light bulb dangles from the ceiling, casting shadows in the barren room. Memories swirl like debris in the storm of my mind, making it hard to piece together. Yet, I vividly recall the unforgiving eyes of Peter Grimaldi looking at me with hatred and disgust. Years of neglect from him, of trying to fit into a family that never wanted me, have left me unable to shake the fear I felt standing before him.

I never thought I’d have to face him again, especially when I’m not the one punishing him. His stance, paired with a clenched jaw and eyes that pierced through me, made bile rise up my throat, as if I were nothing but a stain on his impeccable suit.

I try the chains, fruitlessly tugging at them in a desperate attempt to break free. The metallic bite of pain sears through my skin as the chains dig deeper, drawing blood.

Like a whisper carried on the wind, a soft voice breaks through the silence, making me startle. I whip my head around, trying to find the source, but darkness obscures my sight. Did I imagine the voice?

“It won’t work,” the voice says, tone filled with resignation. “I’ve already tried getting out. It doesn’t work.”

Slowly emerging from the shadows is a woman, her hands bound tightly in front of her stomach, feet secured to the wall by iron hooks. Disheveled hair frames her face, giving her a crazed appearance, while a glint in her eyes hints at untold emotions and stories.

---