Rebellion of a Kingdom by G.N. Wright

Chapter 2

ASHER

I’m empty. Hollow. Void. Completely, fucking desolate. The feeling of defeat has cracked through my steel shell. I can't breathe. I'm trying, but the air keeps getting trapped in my throat, never destined to reach my lungs. Is this what drowning feels like? What happens when you lose all hope?

I don’t feel the terror that should be wracking my body. In fact, I don’t feel anything. I must be in pain. My cheekbone is close to shattered, my wrist snapped, and at least three ribs are broken. I’m sure that when I finally wake from this nightmare, I’ll be in a world of hurt. Yet none of it compares to the fucking gaping hole in the center of my chest. I’m fairly sure the assholes that jumped me didn’t land any hits there, but it’s the only pain I register right now.

I knew something wasn’t right the moment I saw Greg at the party tonight, I felt it in my gut, in my fucking bones. But I did nothing. I let him remain there and for what? To cover myself from my own lies. Lies I told to protect the only things that matter to me. And to what end? I still failed. Failed Elle, failed Cass, failed myself.

It was all for nothing.

I thought the dread of finding Greg in a room with Elle would be the worst of it. I wanted to let it go, allow the rest of the night to wither away until I could get back home. Nothing is ever that simple though, is it? I saw it in his eyes, the sick little gleam of him knowing something I didn’t. Of having one up on me. So, I followed him, thinking that the worst thing that would happen, would be to witness more of his fucking horrific crimes. I’ve seen enough of them to last a lifetime, but I could have handled them. I could have handled anything I would have seen, except this.

What I didn’t see coming was the fucking thugs who jumped me as soon as I made it to the back of the parking lot. Four of them and I still held my own. I may be injured, but the way they came after me I knew I was meant to be near dead. In hindsight, I got off lightly. They didn’t.

When I got rid of all four of them, I staggered to my car and floored it here as fast as I could, all the while praying for time. More time with Cassie, more time with Elle, hell, more fucking time with the four pieces of shit I just murdered in the parking lot. Just more fucking time.

Once again, I was too late. Just like I was too late to save Elle that awful night. Had I been a second later with my arrival, I would have lost her for good. Not that it matters. I've let her down again. My only salvation is the bullet I put in that fucker’s head before he could do the same to her. Yet do I feel it? No. I feel nothing but defeat.

They took her. They took my daughter. My worst fear has finally come to light. We did everything right, tried so fucking hard and for what? They still got her anyway. Every careful step, every meticulous plan, all a waste of fucking time. My shining star has been engulfed in darkness and without her I am nothing. Feel nothing. An empty shell of the man that once existed.

I don’t register anything going on around me, I can’t. My very reason for breathing is gone and I don’t know if I will ever see her again. What else matters?

A door slams open and a second later Arthur storms into the room followed by Helen, and when she locks eyes on her son she bursts into tears. Lincoln moves from Jace's side so Arthur can step in next to Zack and try to save him. Ironic isn’t it, he isn’t even his father, at least not by blood, and he would give his life here and now if it meant saving his son.

My father? He’s just no doubt had a hand in the kidnapping of my daughter. Not to mention attempting to have the living fuck, kicked out of me.

What the fuck am I doing? Why the fuck am I still here? I need to get her back.

I focus and quickly take stock of the room. Marcus is comforting Elle and Helen, both of whom are laser focused on Jace and Arthur. Zack continues to lie motionless in a puddle of his own blood and Lincoln is typing away furiously into a laptop he got from lord knows where.

I push up off the floor and the pain overtakes my entire body, but in comparison to the void in my heart, it does nothing to stop me. I don’t care about anything right now, not even death. I don’t care if the grim reaper himself comes to drag me to the pits of hell, just as long as I get my daughter back to where she belongs first.

Elle will take care of her brother, and I will take care of mine.

I manage to slip out of the room without notice and almost make it to the front door until I am being hauled back. The touch on my arm makes me hiss in pain, but his grip doesn't let up as he pushes me into the wall.

"Where do you think you’re going?" Blackwell's voice is calm, like fucking always. It fucking infuriates me I can feel his stare boring into the side of my skull, but I can't look at him. At anyone. I don't want them to see the defeat in my eyes. The same truth is on repeat in my mind… I failed them.

I grit my teeth. "You know where I'm going."

"Alone?” he scoffs in exasperation. “I thought you were the smart one.” His tone is harsh and dark, his grip tightening. “How far do you think you’re gonna get? They will kill you before you even lay eyes on her."

"I don't care. I have to try." I try to push him off, but he grips me harder and finally I look at him. Instead of the disappointment I expect to see in his eyes at my failure, all I see is worry and slight annoyance. There isn’t even a hint of pity, which I would have hated more than anything. I can’t bear it, especially not from him. His expression eases some of the tension from my body. I can’t allow him to comfort me, not after what I’ve done.

I force my gaze to look past him and grit out my next words. “Let. Me. Go.”

“I can’t do that, Donovan.” I flinch at the use of my family name. A name I never want to be fucking associated with ever again. The hatred for my blood is strong, but it pales in comparison to how much I hate myself right now. I flick my eyes to him again and see the pleading in his to make this easy, but how can I do nothing when they have her?

“It’s my house, I can go there if I want to,” I snap back as the anger burns through my veins, it’s so close to the edge I can practically taste it.

“Think,” he shakes me with his hands, “just fucking think. How did they find her? How did they know where to get her and when?” His grip remains iron tight on me, as his words puncture my mind. “They were a step ahead of us for who knows how long, we need to be smarter now. Cassie needs you.”

The mention of her name cuts through me like a blade. I push him off, ignoring the pain waging through my body once more. "I don't care, I don’t fucking care, they took her." I scream, but it catches in my throat as tears appear in the corner of my eyes for the first time in years. The pain and anguish forces me to slump back against the wall. "They took her, Lincoln." I whisper, closing my eyes to let the weight of my failure crush me. "I let them take her.”

His hand finds my shoulder again and I open my eyes, locking them with his. "I know."

I can’t bear the compassion in his words. “You know nothing!” I hiss, pushing off the wall and shoving him away from me. “You think you know the sickness that burns through the veins of my brother and father, but you don’t. I have a rapist and a murderer as my role models.”

I crack my jaw back and forth to try to ease the ache there as I lean back against the wall to hold myself up.

I scrunch my eyes closed as I think back to the night, I saved Elle. “You didn’t see what they did to her. What he did to her.” I don’t have to say Elle’s name for him to know what I’m talking about. “Do you have any idea what it was like to overhear the things my father said about her and pray it wasn’t true? What it was like to follow him to where he was keeping Elle and for him to think I was there because I wanted in on the action?” I grimace in disgust at just the memory.

“How Greg held his blade to her stomach on every thrust, laughing at every pained sound she made. How I had to stand there powerless, biding my time to help her.” I shake my head, wishing for once I could forget the look on her face, wondering why I wasn’t doing anything. Knowing that to truly be able to help her, I had to pretend I enjoyed it. To act like I was one of them.

“You didn’t see the confusion and despair in her eyes. I did.” I bang my fist against my chest at my words. “I felt her agony.” Bang. “I felt her horror.” Bang. “And I couldn’t do anything.” Bang. “And now that same sadistic fuck has my daughter. So, don’t tell me you know.”

“You’re not the only one who knows what it's like to have a murderer as a father.” His words give me pause as does the look on his face. It's unwavering, like what he’s just said is the most truthful statement he has ever spoken. “I know what it’s like to have someone you love taken from you, more than you know,” he adds.

“I have to get her back before it’s too late.” I can hear the fight leaving my voice, but I try to convince him one last time.

The look in his eyes tells me he knows what it’s like to be too late. He takes a deep breath before stepping towards me. "I know, but we fucking need you, okay? We need a plan, and we need you. All this?" He gestures with his other hand to me. "Lock it the fuck down until we need it."

He sees it, sees me. The line I usually walk, that I am so far away from now. The one thing that ties me to that line and kept me from slaughtering every fucking one of them is gone.

“What if we don’t?” I whisper, letting my worst fear bleed out into the open. “What if we don’t get her back?” The question tastes like poison on my tongue.

His other hand finds my shoulder, bringing him fully into my space and I no longer feel the desire to push him away. "I promise you; we will get her back. You have my word.” His voice is smooth and unwavering. “I told you I would die for them and I will. I will get her back if it’s the last thing I ever fucking do." His promise hangs in the air like a declaration of war.

I can't talk so I just nod, and his exhale hits my cheek before he nods back, straightening up. He releases my shoulders just as the front door slams open. His gun is in his hand with his body blocking mine in less than a second.

"Woah, baby, chill." Logan's flirty voice floats into the air and I see Lincoln visibly relax.

"Fucking hell, Logan. Where the fuck have you been?" Lincoln’s voice is harsh, and his words are clipped.

"Oh, someone's needy. Been waiting for me, have you?" Logan continues to tease, clearly not reading the room.

"Lo," I step out from behind Lincoln, speaking his barely used nickname and his smile falters a little.

"Shit, psycho. Didn't see you - - what the fuck happened to you?" His smile changes to worry in an instant as he takes in my swollen and no doubt bruised face.

"Logan," Lincoln hesitantly steps towards him and I see Logan's glare flicker down to his bloodied hands. We don’t even get a chance to say anything else before he rushes past us. Lincoln storms after him and I follow, getting to the room just as Logan’s legs give out on him.

Lincoln manages to hold him up as he regains his footing and then he’s trying to push him off. “Let go of me, Lincoln,” he spits, trying to force Lincoln’s grip off him.

Logan isn’t as big as Lincoln so Blackwell doesn’t even stumble as he holds him and responds, “You can’t help them, just give them room to work.”

“That’s my brother. He needs me.” I hear the crack in his voice as he lets the emotions take over.

Lincoln grips his face in a vice hold, forcing his stare to lock with his. “I know Logan, but you can’t do anything right now. Come help me with Ash, yeah?” It’s the first time he has ever referred to me as anything other than Donovan or dark prince. It feels familiar and safe, but somehow wrong to be hearing it like this.

Logan turns his attention to me, his face pained, and as pale as a ghost. “What happened?” He moves towards me and grips my face so hard that I hiss, but the pain is welcome at this point. Nothing could hurt me more than the empty ache in my chest. I shuffle from foot to foot unable to keep still, desperate to run from this house and not stop until I have my daughter back.

“You know what happened.” I rip my face from his hands and watch as realization dawns on him.

“Where is Cassie?” he asks me before swinging his gaze to Elle who is still sitting on the floor next to Zack's body. When she hears our daughter's name, she looks towards us. I thought the worst look I would ever see in her eyes was on the night she was raped, but that was nothing. She looked scared, confused, in pain, but there was still life there, still parts of her remaining no matter how small. Now though? Now she looks lifeless, like her heart has been ripped out and it’s by sheer gravity that her body is still rooted here. It pushes me over the edge.

I push Logan away from me and scramble to get to the door and escape. Leave this fucking house and finish this fucking war. Kill every fucking person that gets in my path. Not resting until my daughter is home and my skin is soaked in the blood of my enemies.

Again, I almost make it out of the room, but this time I have two pairs of hands gripping me, still I fight. For me, for her, for Elle. I have to get my daughter back, my girl. I will happily die trying.

I fight against both Lincoln and Logan as Marcus joins them in restraining me.

“Ash, look at me.” Elle steps up between them and tries to talk to me, but I can’t look at her. I promised her one thing, the only thing I could promise. That I would keep her and our daughter safe and I fucking failed. She is never going to forgive me, and I won’t ever forgive myself either.