Page 32 of Wallflower
Turning slightly, Karson nods to a man that emerges from the greenery. He steps to him, effectively blocking me from view, and I take full advantage of the small bit of privacy he’s offering me.
“Boss wants to know what’s taking so long.”
“Stage fright, and begging for her release. You know, the usual.”
“He was hoping you’d finally dipped your dick in the company ink. Said if anyone would test your restraint, it’d be this one.”
“Not a fucking chance, Ry.”
“That’s what I said.” He glances over to me briefly before returning his gaze to Karson. “Need any help?”
Karson raises the gun from its position loosely hanging at his side, aiming at me. “Nah, seems you showing up and distracting me got things moving. Be right there.” He waves the gun in a hurry up gesture, and I grab a leaf I pray isn’t poison ivy to finish.
The man nods, turning and making his way back in the direction he came from. Karson sags in relief and I wonder if he would have gotten in trouble for engaging with me.
Not that I care.
Panic seizes me the instant I emerge from the shadows, breath stalling in my chest. Chelsea’s nowhere to be seen. Maximus stands alone in the centre of the path, eyes focused on the phone in his hand.
“Before you cause a scene, your sister is off relieving herself as well,” he utters blandly.
Relief washes over me as the two escorts move closer, corralling me toward Maximus. Though, they hover threateningly while his attention is elsewhere.
Seconds feel like an eternity as I wait for my sister’s return. Maximus’s ostentatious shirt billows in the breeze as he ignores me, smirking at whatever he’s watching on the screen of his cell phone.
Finally, Chelsea’s figure is illuminated by the bright morning sun, led roughly by the muscular third man. She stumbles on the uneven ground, nearly taking the guard down with her. Ire flares in his eyes as he scrambles to hold her and shift his weight. His grip doesn’t falter as his knee slams to the gravel, giving him enough stability to stop her head from cracking off the ground. My breath catches when Chelsea doesn’t so much as reach her arms out to brace herself. She’s a rag doll, silent and jerked erratically.
“Can’t manage something as basic as walking? No wonder you wound up here. All you’re good for is a warm hole to fuck,” the man snarls.
My vision rains red when Chelsea doesn’t even stir. She’s hanging there, leaving me wondering if she’s even still breathing.
“Hey!” I shout. “Leave her alone, she’s been through enough!” The words are out before I think better of it. Fear slaps me across the face the instant I realize everyone’s gaze has turned to me. Maximus has even lifted his eyes from his phone, an even more sinister grin slowly pulling across his thin lips.
“Yes, Karson. That’s quite enough. You may carry Miss Chelsea the rest of the way to Bleakcrest.”
The man’s otherworldly eyes widen, ayou’ve-got-to-be-kidding-melook crossing his features. He doesn’t utter whatever objection is on the tip of his tongue though.
Karson jerks a nod. “Yes, sir,” he snips. Scooping my sister into his arms, he rights himself on his feet, turning to start his trek up the never-ending hill without another word.
Evidently, Bleakcrest is the mansion on the cliff I was admiring earlier. Guess I’ll find out soon enough if Maximus likes the sunrise or not. Though, I assume anything having to do with this place will burn like hellfire.
Three more of Maximus’s men emerge from the foliage as we approach a seemingly impenetrable gate and fence. The sight of it quickly extinguishes any last thoughts of escape. He doesn’t have to worry though, Chelsea’s passed out cold in Karson’s arms, and I won’t be leaving her.
Dogs viciously bark from somewhere nearby as the gate slides open of its own accord. The sprawling complex sits farther back from the cliff’s edge than it appears from a distance, and somehow it’s even more breathtaking up close.
I hate it.
The gate creaks behind us, closing with a finalizingclang. Maximus leads the group from the side entrance around to the front, the full majesty of the house hitting me square in the chest.
It’s like a scene pulled straight from the crime lord how-to guide, so fucking cliché I could gag. There’s at least ten blacked out vehicles lined up perfectly. Two large trucks with intimidating bush grills, three matching SUV’s, a mix of sleek sports cars, and several street bikes off to the side. Then right at the end of the line, sits a creamy white Mercedes. I’d bet my life on that being Maximus’s personal vehicle. The vision of him cruising the island, top down, with a sinister smug grin sickens my stomach, and I have to work harder than expected to keep the disgust from my face at the thought.
Though Bleakcrest is castle-esque in its appearance, with its stone siding, pillared entranceway, and guard towers, I don’t think armed snipers were all that common back in medieval times.
The surrounding greenery is trimmed and well maintained. Toxic purple flowers line the walkway, adding a pop of colour, and giving the atmosphere a more inviting feel.
I wonder if Maximus knows that his flowers can stall your lungs or stop your heart with just a pinch.
It would be stupid of me to assume he has them because they’re aesthetically pleasing, we aren’t in the mountains after all. They aren’t native to the area and probably require much attention to not wither away.
