Page 26 of Claimed By Shadows

“Okay, so I’m just gonna lay it all out for you and get this shit over and done with, but that doesn’t mean you have to tell me yours,” Johnny starts as soon as we sit down. “I was living my best life when I met Jason, the man of my dreams. Turns out he was a complete arsehole, and one night after about two weeks of being with him, he drugged me and invited all his friends over for some fun.” Johnny is so matter-of-fact as he tells me, even cutting up and eating his pancakes as he speaks. Meanwhile, my stomach tightens with dread, and I can’t even take a sip of my juice whilst I listen. “That was where the fun ended, and I remember snippets, but not everything. I woke up in a shit state, barely able to crawl out from the bloody sheets to find him and his friends gone. I called the cops, told them my sorry tale, and they suggested I come here to rest and recover.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Johnny. That’s awful.” Tears sting my eyes at the horror of not knowing what happened to you. I used to wonder if that would be better, the not knowing what was happening, but seeing the way Johnny’s face has gone tight, I don’t think it would be. “What happened to Jason?”

“Oh, they arrested him and sent him to prison, along with some of his friends,” he tells me, and I reach out and take his slightly trembling hand. Maybe he’s more affected than he wants me to believe.

“Good,” I say as I squeeze his hand. “And I’m sure if you ever wanted to, Rufus could arrange for him to have a minor accident.” Johnny’s eyes go wide as saucers, the words surprising even me.

“Shit, a hunk and a gangster. I’m in love! You have to introduce us after breakfast,” he pleads, his wide eyes going doe-like, and I just know that he gets what he wants when he turns those on anyone.

“Sure, I’ll introduce you, but…” I trail off, not sure how to ask what I want without seeming to be rude or prying. His face softens and his hand turns and squeezes mine back.

“How can I even think about sex or anything after that happened?” he asks in a soft voice, and I nod. “Well, they may have ripped my arsehole apart, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want someone else to kiss it better, you know?”

My skin flushes hot even as I wince at the graphic way he described what happened to him, remembering the way Nik would come and kiss me better after Sergi’s visits. It was so wrong, but also so right and helped at the time.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to spill that tea at some point, girl.” He laughs as I blush harder, my cheeks and chest burning. I can only give a nod, not quite ready to spill anything just yet. He gives my hand another squeeze, then lets go and resumes eating his breakfast.

There’s something about making a friend so quickly, especially one who has some idea of what I’ve been through, that loosens the tightness which has been binding my chest ever since that awful night when Sergi took me from the Shadows. Picking up a flaky pastry, I bring it to my lips and take a bite, a smile tugging my lips upwards as the flavour of peach fills my mouth.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“GONE” BY BLAKE ROSE

ROWAN

Roman and I get up at the crack of dawn, taking the truck to the estate of Adrian Ramsey, which sits in the Wiltshire countryside. The sun is just rising as we drive up the long driveway after being let through by the armed guard at the guardhouse.

“A lot of security for someone not hiding something,” Roman muses as we drive around the back of the palatial mansion to the staff parking area.

A guy in his mid-forties with salt-and-pepper hair waits for us outside a nondescript door, wearing all black and also armed.

“Indeed,” I utter, waiting for Roman to park before I unbuckle my seat belt and get out of the car.

“Rowan and Roman Kent, I presume?” the man asks, his voice deep and gruff as he holds out a hand.

“Yes, sir,” I reply, taking his outstretched hand in mine and giving it a firm shake. You can tell a lot about a man by hishandshake, and this guy doesn’t dominate like some wankers might. Just a solid grip to let me know he could break my hand, no doubt, but doesn’t feel the need to push the point.

“My name is Doug, and I’m head of security here. Welcome.” His tone is no-nonsense, and he releases my hand to grab Roman’s. “You guys will be stationed outside the house today. We work in pairs, so you’ll be together for the whole of your twelve-hour shift. Your job is to walk the perimeter of the house and immediate gardens. You have the digital map that was sent to you?”

“Yes, sir,” Roman and I say together, and Doug’s lips quirk.

“Follow me and I’ll issue you your guns. You can meet the others and then get into position,” he tells us, turning and holding a card on the pad at the door, then a green light blinks and the sound of the lock disengaging fills the early morning air.

We follow him into the house, both of us looking around and cataloguing any details we can. We’ll need all the advantages for a rescue mission, and the security here is top-notch. They are definitely hiding something.

We pass by what looks and smells like the kitchen, plus several closed doors before we get to another plain wooden door with a pad that Doug uses to gain access.

“Here are your access cards,” he says, reaching over to a table and swiping two cards, which he hands us. “They give you entry to the house and staff areas, which are highlighted on your map. Mr Ramsey is in residence most days, as is his niece and ward, Lilly.”

My heart thuds loudly inside my chest. Looks like we may have found her after all, though I want to get eyes on her to confirm it’s who we are looking for. I slide a look at Roman when Doug turns back to the table, and he gives me a small nod.

“Here are your radio and guns, which are only to be used against an intruder. Aim to injure, unless the threat is to your oranyone else’s life,” Doug tells us, his voice serious as he hands us each a handgun and holster.

“Are we expecting any threats, sir?” I ask, watching his reaction to see if I can gain an idea of why the security is so high.

“Not that I know of, but Mr Ramsey likes to be prepared,” he answers, giving us a moment to attach the radios to our belts and strap the gun holsters on before leading us out of the room and to another door, which is ajar. “This is the rest of the team. You’ll recognise them on account of all the black.” He huffs a deep laugh, as do some men and women in the room, sitting on sofas and drinking coffee. There are four others, all dressed in black and with guns. Two women make up half the current team. “Everyone, this is Roman and Rowan Kent. They’re on rotation as of today.”

“Fuck, it’s too early to be seeing double,” one guy growls, rubbing his slightly red and puffy eyes.

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