*Maddox*
I run down the hallway, frantic, my eyes wide with terror as I pray to the Moon Goddess above that my own stupidity hasn’t cost me again.
How could I have been so stupid? To have gone back to my room thinking that there was no one else Zabrina would want to kill!
Once again, I feel like my own idiocy has cost me dearly.
I can only pray that the girl is all right, and the Moon Goddess and I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms these last few years since Rebecca’s… untimely death.
My shoes slide on the slick floor in the hallway as I try to round the corner, and as I lose traction, I look down to see that it’s not just the shiny marble surface that has made me lose control, the floor is wet as well,
Smears of red paint the floor like an angry finger painter, a child who was allowed to stay up too late before visiting the art center, perhaps one that had far too much sugar.
The red streams around the corner into the next hallway as well, making my footing even more precarious.
Nevertheless, I can’t slow down, so I fight the out-of-control thinking and keep running, trying to comprehend how my room got so far away from my target.
I thought the Luna suite was only a few doors away….
Shaking my head, I run on, noticing a mist in the castle, its wispy gray fingers dancing around me as I continue to run.
Has someone left a window open?
Has someone left all of the windows open?
The fog continues to swirl and twirl, but I can still see the red beneath my feet as I chase the endless hallway.
“Is everything all right, sir?” Walter, one of my butlers says, stepping out from the wall, a silver tray in his hand as he blocks my way.
Coming to a screeching halt, I stop just before I collide with him and the steaming pot of coffee he holds.
“Walter! Get out of the way!” I shout at him, intending to step around him.
Moving to block my way again, Walter says, “Perhaps a cup of coffee would hit the spot about now, aye, Alpha?”
Despite the hot liquid, I push him aside, ignoring his shouts from contact with the coffee as it splashes out to scald him.
I am in a hurry, damnit!
At the end of the hall, I turn left, thinking this can’t be right.
Where the hell is the Luna Suit?
Fog circles me, and even more blood covers the floor now.
As I come around the corner, I run into a small table holding a vase. The antique bobs back and forth for a moment, threatening to fall to the floor. I reach out and grab it, righting it and the table.
“What do you think you’re doing!”
Mrs. Worsthingshorethinshire stands beside me, her hands on her hips, an ugly scowl on her face.
“That’s a priceless piece that dates back three centuries!” she continues.
“Didn’t I fire you?” I ask.
Her hand comes around and smacks me right in the side of my head, sending me reeling into the vase which falls to the floor and shatters into a thousand pieces.
“Now look what you’ve done!” she shrieks. “The king will have your head for that!”
“I am the king!” I remind her.
“Don’t you talk back to me—”
I give her a shove, and she flies across the hallway into the wall, sliding down and resting in a pool of blood.
Rather than wasting any more time on a horrid woman I thought I had fired, I begin to run again. The hallway never seems to end, and the blood is so thick now, it’s coating my shoes and splashing up every time I pick up my feet.
“There you are, King Maddox!” Alpha Jordan is standing in front of me wearing a brown lounging coat, smoking a pipe. “I thought we should discuss how wonderful it is that you’ve agreed to marry my daughter.”
“Marry your daughter?” I ask. I don’t slow down to speak to him, so he begins to run backward with no effort whatsoever.
When did Alpha Jordan become such an athlete?
“That’s right,” he says, “and she’s bloody well looking forward to it!” His laughter rings out through the hall, sounding menacing in the fog.
“No!” I tell him, hitting him in the side with my elbow. He gasps and then disappears behind me in the fog bank.
“Maddox, what are you doing?”
I look over to see Seth jogging alongside me wearing gray sweats and a matching headband. He looks ridiculous, but at least he’s not running backward.
“I have to save her!” I shout.
“You should be in bed. It’s late,” my Beta advises.
‘Where the fuck is the Luna suite?” I ask him.
“It’s right there, stupid!” he says. “Man, how would you survive without me?”
I don’t answer him. I see the door now, and I’m almost there. I pick up speed and only stop sprinting when I reach the door.
What if it’s locked?
My hand connects with the golden knob, and when I twist, it opens. I breathe a sigh of relief.
But then… as I walk into the antechamber, I see that the blood is spread throughout this room as well, staining the floor the same crimson color as the hallways.
Am I too late?
The door to the bedroom is ajar. With a deep breath, I move forward, my heart pounding against my ribcage as my breath reverberates out of my mouth so loudly, I think I could wake the dead.
A push on the open door causes it to squeal, and I poke my head inside.
The fog in the room is thick, but as I narrow my gaze, the scene before me comes into focus. As if my own realization has cleared the mist, the room clears, and I see a woman standing there, next to the bed, the knife in her hand nearly a foot long. The silver blade catches the light of the moon streaming through the window.
On the bed, I see nothing but a sea of red and pieces of flesh. It reminds me of some of the worst scenes I’ve ever witnessed on the battlefield, the bloody meat, chewed-up flesh, pools of blood associated with the grizzliest, most merciful kinds of death.
Her body is chopped to bits, but her face is untouched, except for her eyes.
Those are missing… but the rest of her lovely features are all intact, her mouth hanging open as if she were trying to scream for help….
Scream for me.
Her blonde curls are pink in the moonlight as the sticky liquid coats them.
“Isla!” I scream my hands covering my face in grief.
Next to her, the woman with the knife begins to giggle, her laughter a high-pitched tinkle, like the sound a bell makes, the same noise I imagine a gleeful fairy would make.
I recognize that laugh… but it’s not the loud cackle Zabrina makes when she is amused.
No, this sound is far more familiar to me, and as she turns her head to look at me, I realize it’s not Zabrina standing over Isla’s bed with the murder weapon in her blood-soaked hand.
As our eyes meet, my widen, the shock and devastation I felt at entering the room morphing into confusion and disbelief.
“What’s the matter, darling?” Rebecca asks me. “Did you think I’d really let you find love again?” Her laughter is so loud this time, I have to cover my ears. I feel the sound as a vibration in my brain.
“Rebecca….” I murmur.
She continues to laugh. “You marry again? Over my dead body!”
Gasping for air, I sit up, my hand to my chest. My eyes dart around the room, and I see I am in my bedroom. It’s night, and I am beneath the covers, wearing my pajamas.
My lungs burning, I suck in a few more deep breaths as I try to still the madness inside of me. Even though I am aware now that it was all a dream, images of the macabre scene I’ve just discovered still feel my mind.
Looking around the room again, I confirm I am alone. Rebecca is not here. Isla’s body is not mutilated and on display across the room.
I raise a hand to my forehead and collapse back onto the pillow. “It was just a dream,” I tell myself. “Just a stupid, stupid nightmare.”
My experience with such disturbances is profound; since Rebecca’s death, I’ve had more bad dreams than good.
Still… most of the time they are not so gory. And she is usually the victim… not the killer.
What is my subconscious trying to tell me?
I am not sure I want to know.
I do need to know something else, though.
Once my pulse has slowed down, I swing my legs out of bed and slide my feet into my slippers, grabbing my robe off the back of a nearby chair and pushing my arms into it. I tie it in place over my blue pajamas and take a sip of water from the glass on the nightstand before I head off down the hallway.
Thankfully, when I step outside of my room, the floor isn’t red, and there is no fog to greet me either.
It only takes a moment to reach Isla’s room. I am surprised to see two guards posted there. One of them is a man I’d seen earlier in the hallway, one of the soldiers who’d been there when I’d first spoken to Zabrina.
“Good evening,” I say to him and the other one. “You’re one of the new recruits, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Alpha King Maddox, sir,” he says. “I’m Private Wylie, sir.” He makes the sign of respect to me by hitting his left shoulder with his right hand.
“Thank you for your service,” I tell him. Turning to the other young man, I say, “Thank you as well, Private Parker.” The other man, one I’ve had on staff for a few years, makes the sign of respect as well.
“Who stationed the two of you here?” I ask. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that Isla could be in trouble until I’d fallen asleep. I am glad someone had considered the possibility that our potential, and likely, murderess, Zabrina, might be unhappy with the woman I have been paying so much attention to.
“Beta Seth, sir,” Private Wylie tells me.
I smile. “I imagined as much. I would like to go in and see Miss Isla,” I explain.
“Yes, sir,” Private Wylie says. “The door is locked, but Commander Jones gave me a key.”
I have a key to every room in the castle, but I hadn’t thought to bring it with me. It is lucky that Private Wylie has one.
He unlocked the door to the antechamber, and I thank him before stepping inside. I imagine Isla has started locking the door after my last intrusion.
I wonder what she will think of this one….
Quietly, I push the door to her bedroom open, expecting her to be fast asleep. But she is sitting up in bed, staring at me, her eyes wide in the moonlight.
“Isla?” I whisper. “It’s Maddox.”
“I know,” she says, swallowing hard.
Was she afraid of me?
“I just… wanted to make sure you were okay,” I explain.
“I’m… f-fine.” Her voice broke, and I knew that wasn’t the case.
Taking a few steps closer to her, I say, “You have nothing to be afraid of.”
She nods. “I know… but I had a bad dream.”
I don’t want to tell her that I’d had one, too. But I feel an ache in my heart that she has also experienced that. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not now,” she said. “But would you… would you stay here? Please? For a while?”
“Of course,” I move to her quickly, pulled by an unseen force, and sit down next to her on the bed. Cupping her cheek, I stroke her smooth skin. “You’re safe, Isla. I’m here.”
A small smile parts her lips as she leans her head against my chest. I pull her close and kiss the top of her head.
If anyone ever tries to hurt Isla… it will be over MY dead body.