Chloe (Made Men 3)

She had written two notes. One was for Lana, which she had left in the cleaning closet, telling her that she loved her and not to worry about her and also how she was sorry she didn’t say good-bye to her face. The second note was for her parents, telling them that she had decided to leave early and that the key to her car would be placed in the hidden key box above her tire.

It was sad that the one she had said I love you to wasn’t the one you would think.

Getting in the car, Chloe took one last look at the house that had never been a home, but had been her prison. As she drove away, she could feel the chains slowly start to break as she left her prison and then her city behind. Breaking free was a paramount feeling she would always remember.

Chloe rolled down the window, letting the warm summer air whip across her face. Taking a deep breath in, she felt the last chain break.

I’ve finally reached freedom.

It was going to be close, but she would make the plane. Most of her time was spent trying to find the correct parking area.

Chloe parked her car in the desolate-looking parking garage. Pulling out her suitcases and backpacks, she locked her doors then went to her rear wheel. Her fingers fumbled as they searched for the hidden key box that was stuck to the underside of the car.

Bending down farther to look for it, her fingers finally grasped the box.

“Got i—”

A hard body wrapped around her, along with a cloth covering her mouth and nose. The hand behind the cloth stifled any screams or protests she could have made, and the strong body kept her in place.

Stay still, little girl.

There was no fight to be had. Her vision went blurry as it all started to fade away.

Or it’ll just hurt worse.

She had known it was too good to be true. Her soul belonged to the devil …

Thirty-Nine

The Story Behind the Scar, The Story of Sadness, Grief, and Torture

Seven Months Earlier

Pulling his classic black Cadillac onto the side of the street, he positioned himself perfectly to watch the house. Then he looked at the clock and saw he had timed it perfectly. School’s out.

He flipped his lighter off and on, off and on, waiting for her return. Lucca had never been good at sitting still, nor was he a very patient man when he was tired. The night before had been a long one, and his body still felt it this afternoon. Regardless, he had enjoyed every second of it.

Last night, he had lain Mr. Johnson to rest and held up his promise of fucking the blonde until she regretted it. Both things had satiated his dark side … for now, anyway.

Lucca flipped his lighter closed as a stuck-up BMW pulled into the driveway. He had never trusted a German car. The only thing good about it was its black paint color.

A strawberry blonde exited the car. Elle Buchanan. He couldn’t help the sneer he pasted on his face. His little brother was in big fucking trouble.

Watching her walk to the front door, he believed the girl only got prettier the more you looked at her.

It’s going to be a shame when I have to strangle the life out of her.

One thing was for sure, the girl was going to die, and nothing was going to save her. It was unfortunate she had been there when the trigger had been pulled, but some girls were just born unlucky, this one in particular. She was only going to make it another month to her eighteenth birthday.

The stuck-up looking car reversed, drawing back his attention. He wondered who would drop off a girl in this neighborhood. Truthfully, he was a little shocked this was the address, considering the girl had come from a prep school.

Looking at the clock again, he noticed there was a bit of time before Elle went to work. His gut told him to follow the car. Anyone she hung out with could possibly be collateral damage if her fucking mouth blabbed too much.

Lucca started his car, deciding to follow the BMW. He kept a good distance back, following it in a direction he hadn’t been expecting. This part of town was mostly owned by the city, along with some expensive restaurants and shops.

Watching the car pull into one of the most expensive shops in town, he parked on the street and pulled out his cell phone to text the license plate number to a friend. He waited in anticipation, the curiosity slowly eating away at him, only growing worse when the car door opened.

Immediately, he knew it was a woman when tall, black boots and black jeans hit the ground. The next thing he noticed was her long, silky hair. It was the blackest hair he had ever seen.