Page 45 of Tainted Serenity

I take another gulp of the burning liquid, but soon cough it up when a sudden hand is placed against my bare shoulder. I am wearing a sophisticated and elegant vintage dress in the color of wine that drapes over my entire frame and reaches my ankles. It’s beautiful with all of its glorious details that make the dress almost shine in the dimly lit light.

Turning around, I am hesitant about who I’m about to meet. Irene stands behind me, her nails digging into the flesh on my shoulder, which is only covered by a thin strap holding up the corset on top of the dress.

“What are you doing here?” she asks me, her gaze flicking over to the dance floor with determination as her cold voice washes through me.

It feels as if a bucket of ice has been poured over me, leaving me no protection against the hypothermia threatening to take over.

“I’m standing here,” I reply matter-of-factly.

“Don’t play smart!”

Her voice is a low grumble as she grits out the words through her teeth. Instead of replying to her, I turn back to the table filled with snacks and drinks for everyone to devour. I soon regret my mistake.

Before I know it, she wrenches me around again with such force that I fear my shoulder will dislocate. Her eyes smolder with rage and resentment, reflecting in her irises. I foresee the slap before it happens, managing to catch her wrist just in time before it makes contact with my cheek.

“You should be on the dance floor,” she states, her eyes frowning as if trying to ignore the way she failed to hit me.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

Her voice becomes a dangerous tone, and in an instant, she slips a knife from underneath her dress, pressing it right at my thigh above the dress. My heart speeds up as I stare at it, the inscription reading “A.G.”

Memories come piling up in my head, and just like that, I am back to the night months ago. Snow drapes over the landscapes in heavy drifts while Arthur and Emilio stand in front of me, guards watching over them closely while their eyes zone in on me and Grey. My breaths stutter as I take a step back, but Irene’s grip on my wrist makes it impossible to move. Panic clogs my mind, and I am overwhelmed by the rising fear inside me.

Knife pressing against my abdomen.

Grey screaming at me despite me not hearing anything.

He disappears.

Only to never be seen again.

“What’s going on here?”

That cold voice washes over me and wakes me from my nightmare, but it thrusts me into an even worse nightmare as I stare into the eyes of Arthur, who looks scarily much like his brother.

“Nothing, my darling.” Irene turns to her husband before quickly retreating to his side, hiding the knife under her dress without him noticing.

He is far too busy staring at me with determination in his eyes, and I am left fighting for breath. It feels like I’m drowning in the Atlantic in a desperate attempt to reach land without success, while sharks and other predators chase me under the ocean floor. It’s hard to breathe, and yet I am forced to stare into the eyes of the man who tortured me for two years.

Frederick is here, holding my life in his bloodied hands all over again.

“Why isn’t she on the dance floor?”

Arthur’s harsh voice is directed at his wife, his eyes narrowing as he stares at her, and she visibly pales, her skin turning a shade much like the snow. I watch her muscles stiffen under his attention, and suddenly it becomes even more evident that he has all the power over her while she tries her hardest to match his cruelty. She was forced into a marriage with him when she was eighteen, and I shudder at the thought of having to live with Arthur for over fifty years. No wonder she is a cold-hearted bitch.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she stutters, and I have never heard her so uncertain before.

My eyebrows raise as I stare at the two of them, the dynamic between them becoming more apparent. He is her master, domineering over her life until she has no other choice but to obey. That fact gives me some sick satisfaction because of all the things she has done to me, though I cannot allow myself to entertain that feeling at the moment. I am in a sea full of predators, ready to steal their prayer and tear it to pieces of flesh and blood.

Arthur’s gaze is dangerous as he shifts his attention to me, leveling me with a piercing glare.

“Daxton! Come here.” Arthur’s voice booms through the room, but it is barely audible over the loud music playing in the background.

From the shadows of the corridor comes a man dressed in a black suit, clinging to his thigh, and giving off an air of mystery and darkness. His suit jacket is in a deep and moody color, giving the vibe of something macabre. He steps closer, and my breath gets caught in my throat as I stare at the man in front of me. His hair is tousled, far from the well-kept hair I have previously seen. This looks nothing like the doctor I have slowly become friends with over time, our friendship bound between pain and wounds, lingering comfort when no one else could give it.

Now there’s an air of danger around him as he stares at Arthur. I see the way he obeys his master, yet there is defiance underneath those stormy eyes that just long to break free. He, too, wants to become free.

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