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

“The judge is proving to be difficult. I have no idea if he knows his daughter is missing or just doesn’t care, but there’s been nothing,” I say, looking around at my brothers.

I thought this would be easy, but I was wrong and that doesn’t happen often. It’s not really why I wanted to have this meeting though. I want to know exactly what happened with Clara’s mother and Phantom is the only one who’s able to get that kind of intel.

“What about his daughter? Still no help?” Trace asks.

“She had no idea what the old man was mixed up in. I think it’s safe to say she hates him.” I glance over at Phantom and rest my arms on the table. “Do me a favor and look into what happened with Clara’s mother. You said you thought Justin was responsible. I want to know every fucking detail. Public and private.”

“I’ll get on it,” he says, nodding.

Clara deserves the truth and I’m going to get it for it.

No matter what it takes.

She’s mine to look after now. Not her fuck of a father.

Mine. 

“So, how’s the hostage situation?” Henley asks, grinning.

“Fuck you,” I hiss.

They all look at each other before staring at me.

“Is there something going on with you and her?” Trace asks.

Yesterday when I made her come and she told me she hates me, I wasn’t lying when I said I understood. No one has ever made me feel the way she does. She’s got me twisted and I fucking hate myself for it.

Yet, I can’t stop it.

I crave her.

Just like I crave the hunt.

She’s making me feel things I thought I was incapable of feeling. It’s not something I’m willing to accept and I sure as shit won’t share it with the guys.

“Hell no, she has a purpose and it’s definitely not that,” I say.

“Good, we don’t need shit getting more complicated,” Trace says.

I nod, then turn my attention back to Phantom.

“When you find something out, let me know. In the meantime, we need to find out where the fuck Justin Hart is hiding,” I say.

“Is there anything Clara has told you that could help?” Henley asks.

“She said she’s never privy to where he is or what he’s doing. She did mention that he used to fuck her nannies, so maybe we find out who they were and what they knew,” I say.

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Phantom replies.

If Phantom is able to find something out it could be the lead we need.

Humans are just like the animals I hunt. They have a routine. It may be that they get coffee at the same shop every morning. It could be that every year they take a trip. It could be that they cheat on their spouse at the same hotel. Maybe they sleep in or wake up early.

Whatever it is, it’s a routine. A clue of their lives.

If any of these nannies can give us a clue for Justin’s routine, we may be able to figure out where the hell he is.

“What about the missing posters? I’ve been seeing them all over,” Trace says.

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “The cops aren’t looking. They think she’s with her father. There’s nothing to worry about.”

They glance at each other like they don’t believe my bullshit about not developing feelings for her, and I immediately feel the need to defend myself. I slam my fists on the table and pin each of them with my angry gaze.

“Is there something you need to say? You all think I’m getting sloppy with my decision to keep Clara? What’s your suggestion? Let her go, forget about Justin, and get us all caught?”

Henley shakes his head, staring at me. “We didn’t say that, but seriously what’s the plan? You’re right, if you let her go the chances of us getting caught are fucking high. But you can’t keep her hostage the rest of her goddamn life. So, what’s the fucking plan?”

I look around at my brothers, the only people I trust, and I see uncertainty. They never doubted me before. Never questioned what I was doing. But I see those questions staring back at me now.

Only, I have no answer.

I don’t have a plan. I don’t know what will happen. I know I can’t keep her locked up forever, but fuck, I don’t want to let her go.

I sigh and shovel my hand through my thick hair before looking back at them. “I don’t know,” I whisper.

“Maybe I can find something on her, and we can use it against her. If she’s hiding something and we threaten to reveal it, we may be able to get her to slip away quietly,” Phantom suggests.

“I don’t see any other options,” Henley agrees.

Trace is staring at me, searching my face. “Or maybe you don’t want to let her go,” he says.

I stare at him and shake my head. “You think I want to feel like that? I’m fighting what I feel every second of every day. She hates me, but she wants me as much as I want her. Which makes me hate myself too. No one gets under my skin, yet here she is tearing me apart and what the fuck can I do?”

“I’ll get rid of her. The distraction is too much,” Henley says.

I snap my head toward him and stand up so quickly that the chair kicks, slamming into the wall.

“No one is touching her. You try to come near her and I’ll send you into the fucking woods,” I shout.

“Fuck, calm down, Elliott,” Phantom yells.

“You can’t fight it, believe me,” Trace says, lifting his shoulders.

What would he know about it? Sure, he’s been stalking his neighbor, but he’s never talked to her.

“No one is touching anyone,” I hiss, still staring at Henley.

I allowed unthinkable things to happen to my sister because I wasn’t there. The thought that something could happen to Clara produces the darkness within me that I’m unable to control. I’m like a feral animal ready to attack.

“Look, when we were young and decided this was our calling, we never considered what would happen as we became adults. Sex, relationships, feelings we know nothing about. I have no advice because it’s not something I understand, but you are making it clear that we need some kind of leverage or something,” Phantom says, crossing his arms.

“Leverage?” I grab my chair and sit back down.

He smirks, lifting his shoulder. “Let’s face it, we aren’t nine-to-five working guys that are going to provide any woman with a lavish life.” His eyes connect with mine and he laughs. “Excluding you, you rich prick.” I grin, shaking my head as he continues. “What kind of chick is trustworthy enough to understand what we do and not turn us in? We need some kind of security.”

It’s not a terrible idea. Protecting what we do is as important as what we do.

“Clara probably doesn’t even know what we do,” Henley says.

“She knows. Well, she knows I do it. She saw me out the window,” I admit.

There’s some cursing and sighing as I sit uncomfortably surrounded by feelings I’m unsure about.

“Look, I don’t know what I’m feeling. I want to fuck her, but I don’t want to put a goddamn ring on her finger. Let’s just focus on finding Justin and when the time comes we’ll continue this conversation,” I say.

They all reluctantly agree, and I stand up. They follow and as I open the door, Trace grabs my shoulder. I turn my head and he grins.

“If you want to gain her trust—give her yours.”

I nod my head and he follows me out of the room. Once everything is locked, the four of us leave the Trappers Den, giving Lowell a nod as we do.

On the ride back home I can’t help but think of what Trace said. Giving her my trust is not something I’m sure I even know how to do. But the more I think about it, the more I realize I might have given her some already. I told her about my grandmother. I told her about the life my grandparents shared at the end of her life. She knows how I seek justice. And yet, she still isn’t repulsed by me. She might hate me, but her body says otherwise. The proof of that was all over my fingers.

I park my truck and look up at the window that she’s staring out. My pulse races as I push open my truck door.

I’m not good at opening up, but I am good at fucking my feelings away.

I don’t trust myself enough to open the door to her because I’m certain I won’t be able to control myself. Fucking my hand is getting old real goddamn quick.

“Clara,” I say, leaning against the door.

“What?” She’s close and I swear I can smell the sweet scent of her pussy.

“You asked me once what you deserve. Do you remember that?”

“Of course, I do,” she says.

I rest my forehead against the door and sigh. “You deserve happiness. It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“What would make you happy?”

She gives a humorless laugh as her voice moves away from the door. “Before I was a hostage, or now?”

“Before.”

She’s quiet for a while and I’m tempted to open the door to see if she’s even sitting there anymore, but her soft voice finally wraps around me. “I wanted to find a guy that would love me. Someone who would be consumed with me and someone I’d be consumed with. I wanted to know what real love and happiness felt like. I wanted someone who would take me away from my father and I’d never need to look back.”

“Clara—” I begin.

“But,” she says, cutting me off. “Now, I want to remember what it feels like to have the warm sun beating on me. What the grass feels like under my feet. What the air smells like after the rain. I want to remember what freedom is.”

I blow out a breath and sit down on the floor, resting my back on the door between us. “When I was a kid I spent a few months in juvenile detention.”

“Not surprising at all,” she says.

I laugh lightly. “I grew up hunting and trapping. It was normal, natural. But one time I set a trap that was a little too close to a neighborhood and I caught someone’s cat. It didn’t die, but it was injured. Anyway, they pressed charges, and I got put away. My intention wasn’t to harm their cat, I was actually trying to trap a fox that was killing chickens, but no one cared. As far as everyone was concerned, I was a fucked-up kid trying to kill animals.”

I close my eyes remembering the day I walked in the door of juvie. The anger and darkness I felt that I was no longer able to push down.

“Elliott,” Clara says.

I pull out of my thoughts and clear my throat. “So, I understand what it’s like being locked away. I understand wanting to remember what freedom is.”

“And you got out and continued living your normal life,” she says, frustrated.

I stand up and wipe my hands on my jeans.

“No, I got out and discovered my father tortured, raped, and killed my little sister,” I say, shaking my head.

I walk away before I open the door and pull her to me. Before I do something I shouldn’t. Before I kiss her with everything I’ve got.

I’m too raw right now.

My emotions are all over the place.

Emotions I’ve never let bother me before.

Emotions I didn’t even realize I had.

Apparently, I do.

My heart races as I open the cabinet and pull out a bottle of scotch. I open it and drink straight from the bottle.

“Fuck.”

I just let her into my darkness. I just pulled her down into the depths of my own personal hell. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth, but she has this way of getting me to spill all my secrets. She has a way of getting under my skin.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I do know one thing…I hope she doesn’t hate me more than she already does.