Monster Of Ruin: A Dark Serial Killer Romance (The Dark Angels Book 4)

I sit down in the wooden chair on the other side of the door from Clara. When my grandfather owned this home, the second floor was turned into an entire living quarter when my grandmother got ill. She couldn’t handle the stairs anymore and he didn’t want her to feel like she had lost her independence completely, so he added a kitchen for her. They would have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together at the small table every day. When my grandmother started getting really bad, my grandfather had this door built to conceal the staircase. His hope was that she would believe this floor was the entire house and it worked. She had everything she needed, and the nurses all had a bedroom. It made the last few months of her life much better than being in a hospital bed.

I’m certain when my grandfather did all this, he’d never imagine that one day I would use it to keep a beautiful blonde hostage.

Yet here I am.

When I brought her here last night, she was so drunk. For a beautiful woman to allow herself to get to that point pisses me off. Clearly, anyone could have taken advantage of her, and she would have no idea.

Case in point.

She laughed when I told her I was gonna take her back to my place. She was barely able to walk when I helped her into the house. I had to carry her up the stairs and lay her in bed. She didn’t question me, hell, she didn’t speak at all.

I stayed in the room watching her until the first light broke through the darkness. I couldn’t look away from the peaceful way she slept. The way her chest rose and fell so delicately with her breathing. I listened to the soft sounds she made each time she moved. I studied her curves, her porcelain skin, and her doll-like features.

She’s angelic. Which makes a devil like me want to sin.

The thought of fucking her had my dick hard all night.

“Please,” she cries on the other side of the door.

Her soft voice is like acid on an open wound, yet it still has cock twitching with need.

“I do love begging, but just know it never changes things,” I whisper.

“What the hell do you want?” she shouts.

So, the delicate flower gets angry quickly. It’s one thing we actually have in common.

“That’s a loaded question, Clara.”

I run my finger across the blade of my knife, checking to make sure it’s sharp enough.

While she slept her morning away, I was busy skinning and butchering a deer. I still need to finish that and get in touch with the guys to see if anyone needs a burial site, so as much as I would love to sit here and toy with Clara, there are more pressing matters at hand.

“I don’t even know what you look like. Let me go and I’ll never tell anyone,” she says.

I chuckle and stand up, causing the chair to scrap against the wooden floor. “Let me ask you something, Clara. Why the hell do you allow yourself to get drunk to the point that you don’t even remember who you’ve gone home with?”

It’s a solid question. And I already know the answer. It pisses me off.

I can hear her softly crying and any normal person may feel sympathy or regret, but I’m incapable of those feelings. Her crying is like that of a baby animal looking for its mother. That’s all she’s doing, crying in the hopes her father will somehow hear her and I hope he does.

“Sometimes I just like to forget.” Her answer surprises me.

“Forget what?”

“What do you want from me?” she shouts.

I tsk her, shaking my head. “There’s ibuprofen in the kitchen as well as some food and water. Take something for your head and eat.” I’ll figure out what she wants to forget later. What could be so bad that you get obliterated and end up going home with strangers?

“Fuck you!” she yells, breaking me from my own thoughts.

I laugh as I turn my back to the door and head downstairs. She’s going to make this more fun than I thought.

“I have a deer carcass. Who needs it?” I ask.

I have Trace, Phantom, and Henley on the phone. Texting a question like that is careless. We are smart and careful with each move we make. No evidence is the only way to ensure we’re never caught.

“I was just gonna give you a call. I’ll meet you at your place in an hour,” Phantom says, obviously having a kill for me to dispose of.

“Cool.” I glance at my house, noticing Clara looking out the bedroom window. “I’ve got some news.”

“What’s up?” Henley asks.

“I have a visitor, or should I say captive,” I say, staring at her.

“Fuck, that was fast. Now what?” Phantom asks.

I turn my back on her and move into the shed that is used as a butcher shop. “Now I will toy with her. I haven’t asked about her father yet, but it’s been a few hours since I spoke to her so it’s time to pay her a visit.”

“The sooner we get that piece of shit, the better,” Trace adds in.

That’s something I don’t need to be told. Justin Hart will get what’s coming to him.

“Elliott knows what he’s doing. Hart will be rushing to save his little princess,” Phantom says.

“That’s the plan,” I agree.

“What about her?” Henley asks.

I’ve never killed a woman and before I had this delicate flower in my grasp, I figured I would handle her like any other. Now that she’s here, I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with her. I have no idea what she’s caught up in and I guess before I can figure out what her fate is I need to know more.

“I’ll see where it goes,” I reply.

I hear a noise and look up at the house. She’s banging on the window, and I shake my head.

Silly girl. Nobody can hear you.

“I need to go. Phantom, I’ll see you soon.”

I hang up and pocket my phone as I make my way toward the house. She can bang on the windows all she wants; I’m not worried someone will see or hear her. I’m in the middle of nowhere and no one gets past the gates of this property.

What I am worried about is her hurting herself. The windows won’t budge. They’re reinforced windows that are unbreakable. They’re also painted shut.

She’s not getting out.

I rush up the stairs and bang on the door. “Clara, don’t do shit you’ll regret.”

Her small footsteps skitter across the floor as she rushes toward the door. “What the hell do you want from me?” she asks, again.

“Where’s your father?”

“Oh my God, this is about my father?” she yells.

She’s no longer talking to me but I can hear her soft cries as she curses him. Strange.

I stare at the closed door as I wait for her to stop crying or at least until I’m able to understand what the hell she’s saying.

“Listen, I have no idea where he is. He’s been gone for a few weeks now. This is something he does. He’ll come back eventually,” she says.

My blood boils as I imagine him living his life without a care. Any of the men he’s let go could rape or kill his own daughter. Does he care? Nope.

Wait.

She could just be saying this, so I’ll let her go.

I’m not falling for her bullshit. He may be gone, but he’ll be back.

“I’m well aware of what he does and as soon as he gets word that his precious daughter is missing, he’ll come running back. Unless you want to do the right thing and tell me where he is?” I say, sitting down on the chair.

“I don’t know where he is. I never know. You think he’s gonna come running for me?” She laughs lightly. “You’re wrong. He’ll leave me to die. He doesn’t care about me.”

Yeah, fucking right.

I sigh as I lean back and cross my arms. “Clara, don’t take me for a fucking fool.”

“You are a fucking fool if you think he gives a shit about me. You should’ve taken his money, that would’ve gotten his attention.”

She obviously wants to protect her father. I guess this angelic creature is more devil than I thought.

“Tell me something, Clara. When Daddy takes the cash and lets a rapist free to continue raping young girls, do you care? Or when he allows a man to walk the streets after beating his wife almost to death, do you wonder if you’re next? What about a man who tortures his own daughter before raping and killing her? These things don’t bother you huh? You just keep spending that dough like you earned it, huh?”

She remains quiet, and I’m about to lose the very little patience I have.

“You want him to dismiss your case?” she whispers.

My body shakes with rage at her question. “Is that how it works? They come to you first and you go to your father?”

“What? No!”

“Clara, I’m not a patient man. I have things I need to take care of, so I’m going to make things simple. Do what you’re told, and things will be a lot easier. Don’t answer my questions with a question. Don’t make me do something unnecessary,” I say, pulling out my phone as it buzzes in my pocket.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. My father doesn’t care about me. I thought he might be doing things for money, but I never expected it to be something like what you’re saying. The doting father you think you see isn’t who he is. Trust me, I don’t know where he is and I don’t know when he’ll be back. Please don’t punish me for his sins,” she says, crying as the last words leave her mouth.

“Trust you?”

“Yes.”

I sigh as I open the gates to let Phantom in from my phone. I scrub my face as I stand and stare at the door.

“You say I shouldn’t punish you for his sins. What are your sins, Clara?”

If she doesn’t want to be punished for her father’s sins, she must have some of her own.

“Think about that until I get back,” I say, leaving her.

I walk down the stairs as I hear her banging on the door.

“Fuck,” I whisper, scrubbing my face.

For the first time in my life, I’m uncertain. I need Phantom to do some digging and find out if what she said is true. If Justin Hart did just project an image of the loving father, we may have made a mistake we can’t walk away from.

It wouldn’t be the first time a politician-type has projected himself as a family man only to find out he’s anything but that.

If what she’s saying is true, I can’t let her go and I can’t kill an innocent woman.

The Dark Angels need to meet.

Now.