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  Captured

  K.L. Myers

  Renee Dyer

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Weeping Willow

  2. A Stranger Calls

  3. The Beginning of the End

  4. Disappointed

  5. Unexpected

  6. I’m No Slave

  7. Demons

  8. A New Day

  9. Admitting the Truth

  10. The Truth Revealed

  11. Damn Woman

  12. Meeting the Monster

  13. Unleashing the Beast

  14. What a Letdown

  15. Calling Her Bluff

  16. Taming the Beast

  17. Evolving

  18. Feelings Change

  19. Choose Me

  20. Regrets and Consequences

  21. Losing Faith

  22. A Piece of my Heart

  23. Peaceful Tranquility

  24. Different Pages

  25. The Past Collides with the Present

  26. Not Like This

  27. Just A Memory

  28. A New Beginning

  29. An Unexpected Surprise

  30. Back to the Living

  31. Acceptance

  32. On the Red Carpet - Three Years Later

  33. If Only I Could Turn Back Time

  34. Second Chances

  35. Lost Without Her

  36. Forgiveness

  Epilogue

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS FROM KL and Renee

  Personal Note From Kl

  Personal Note From Renee

  Other Books By K.L. Myers

  Other Books By Renee Dyer

  Connect With Us

  Copyright

  Captured © 2018

  Cover Design © 2018 Designs by Dana

  Photography © 2018 Golden Czermak

  Model © 2018 Matt Zumwalt

  Formatting by Heidi Jo Bellus

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means such as electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the authors of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Any characters, names, places, brands, media and incidents are used solely in a fictitious nature based on the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to or mention of persons, places, organizations or other incidents is coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication

  To David and Marty, our amazing husbands who stand beside us, keeping us strong, day in and day out. Without you, life wouldn’t be any fun, and we wouldn’t have the chance to do something we truly love.

  Prologue

  From my vantage point—far from where any prying eyes can spot me—I watch her. She huddles under a blanket, sipping tea and staring at old photographs. Tears that should have long dried still streak her cheeks. Wounds that should have healed remain gaping wide open. She’s stuck, unmoving, unable to heal, lost in her grief.

  Gone is the green-eyed beauty who dazzled audiences with her wit. No more is the woman who left millions waiting for the next words to flow from her delicate fingers. Instead, a shell… a paper-thin version of who used to be, lingers, and she’s ready to shred at any moment.

  I can’t wait to release her from this non-existence.

  The monster inside me wants to take her now and hide her away from the prying eyes of the world around us, but I can’t. It’s too soon.

  There was a time when my inner beast was locked behind the metal doors of my depraved soul. It seems like it was so long ago, but these two years have felt longer. Two years of existing without the only person who set my world ablaze slowed down time. Closing my eyes, I think of Emery, my wife, and how her beautiful face made everything bearable. Without her, nothing is.

  We were from different worlds, but that didn’t stop us from finding each other. Hell, we were drawn together. I wasn’t a monster back then—no, I cared about people and her. I fucking worshiped her. I couldn’t wait to get a ring on her finger and my last name branded on her heart. That was before the fissures of hell opened, granting Satan himself access to walk the earth and take her from me. Take everything that was precious and beautiful.

  Now I take what I want. I kill without remorse. I laugh at Satan. He knows I’m not afraid to burn.

  1

  Weeping Willow

  Brecken

  For two years, I’ve searched for the one who would fill the vacancy in my black heart. The one who might satiate my hunger, freeing me from my need to kill, from finding pleasure in watching the last breath leave my victims’ dying bodies. I was starting to give up hope that the perfect specimen was out there. Then, four months ago, an article—a small blurb of words from someone with little talent—changed everything.

  Willow Summers, New York Times bestselling author, emerges from hiding after spending months in Castlebrook Mental Hospital.

  It was right there on the front page of the entertainment section of the Times. After months of failed treatments for severe depression, the author’s agent checked her out of the facility.

  A spark of hope blazed into an inferno, letting me know she was exactly who I was looking for. She’d lost her husband in a car accident. He was her life and only family. Without him, she couldn’t find her center. It made me hard thinking about it, knowing she was the one—the one who would finally break the spell. She would set me free.

  I understood her. I was her. This feeling inside isn’t foreign to me. Two years ago, I was in her shoes as I read my own headline in the Post.

  Billionaire Brecken Wade and wife, Emery, find tragedy in paradise on their honeymoon, losing their lives in a blazing inferno.

  The author of the article had no idea what really happened that night. The night that let loose the monster lying dormant, the one who now yearns to set Willow free from her hell, free her from this earth.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Emery blushes as I cup her cheek. She is sweet and unlike any woman I’ve ever had in my life. Which is why she won my heart. She doesn’t care about my money. She looks past my stature and sees the real me. That’s who she loves, and I’m enamored with her. Many think it’s crazy that I proposed after only two months. That it wasn’t enough time to know her, but her heart shone through instantly. Emery is genuine. If we don’t last, it will be because I mess up, not because she pretended to be someone she isn’t.

  “You’re doing it again,” she says, placing her hand over mine.

  “Doing what?” I ask.

  “Putting me back on that pedestal.” She smiles, and my heart flip-flops. It’s been skipping beats since the moment I first saw her.

  “I put you no higher than you deserve to be.”

  “If you keep a girl in the clouds, how will she ever get dirty with you?”

  The words are no sooner out of her mouth than I have her lifted into my arms and headed for the bedroom. She laughs as I toss her through the sheer canopy hanging down over the bed. Flinging the fabric aside, I crawl over her and marvel at the love shining in her eyes.

  As I bring my lips down to hers, a loud boom fills the bungalow, causing me to jump up. Instinctively, I tell Emery to hide, but it’s too late. Three men dressed in black and carrying guns enter the room. Emery gasps behind me, and I throw my arms out to protect her. If they want to hurt someone, they can hurt me.

  It all happens so fast, I can’t stop it. Two guys go for me, and the other ones goes for Emery. Fists fly. Her cries spur me on to fight harder, but soon enough they have me on the floor with my hands tied behind my back and feet tied a
t the ankles as they continue to kick me. Bones crack, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction of crying out. All I can think of is getting to my wife. I need to save her.

  Seconds later, the smallest of the three men drag Emery into view. She has blood dripping down her face. “I’ll kill all you motherfuckers!” I scream as I struggle against the ropes and writhe under the other two. Rage consumes me as the scumbag runs a finger down her cheek to her neck and then to her breast. He pinches her nipple through her shirt, and she cries out. I growl out of frustration that I can’t get to her. She looks at me with fear in her eyes, and all I can do is stare back, hoping the eye contact gives her comfort.

  The fucker pulls off his mask, and for a moment I think, You wouldn’t stoop this fucking low. He smiles and says, “She’s mine.”

  And then he throws her down, rips off her underwear, and releases himself from his pants. “No!” tears from my throat but does nothing to stop him. With every thrust of himself upon her, his fist smashes against her face. He’s getting off on inflicting pain as he violates her body. My heart feels like it’s about to stop when he raises a knife and carves a line from her neck bone to between her breasts and presses deep into her abdomen. Emery cries out for me to make it stop, and it crushes me that I’m helpless to save her. I watch as she struggles to breathe, gasps in pain, and finally the life leaves her body. I never look away, wanting her to know I loved her to the very last second, and I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. She didn’t deserve this.

  With the last breath she takes, my roar echoes through the room “I’ll fucking kill you, Sebastian. I’m going to rip you limb from limb and feed you to the goddamn sharks. Say your goodbyes.” I struggle to free myself unsuccessfully. The thump of boots crosses the room, and one of the pricks pulls me up by my hair.

  “I don’t think so, Brecken. This is where your life ends.” The cool sheath of a blade slices into my side. Burning pain rips through me, but I refuse to give him any satisfaction.

  “Is that all you’ve got, fuck-face?” I sneer directly into his eyes.

  A second blade slices through my back. This time I can’t help but cry out in pain. Satisfaction mars Sebastian's face as he and his goons stab me a few more times. They remove their hands, letting my body drop to the ground. “Burn this place down,” Sebastian orders his counterparts. The smell of gas hits my nose as they splash it all around, and the crackle of flames assaults my ears as the heat starts to consume what should have been my honeymoon hut.

  It takes every bit of strength I have to crawl into the bathroom and make my way onto the deck. With a trail of blood following behind me, I fall into the ocean. The salt water burns my wounds and nearly forces me to scream, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. I do the unthinkable and pray that God will find the goodness to allow me to live, so I can seek retribution against Sebastian Locke. My wrath is so strong, I can use the strength it gives me to end each and every one of their lives.

  I might have landed on this island a man in love, but I’ll be leaving an avenging demon of death. People may say ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’, but they’ve never seen a man lose his reason for living. I will get revenge for Emery. They will know the pain and terror she felt, and I will relish watching them die.

  The words Sebastian had spoken would forever haunt me and remind me of the day he’d dragged my wife to bed—our honeymoon bed—raped and killed her. It was supposed to be the place we shared our happiness. Instead, it had become my personal hell. I couldn’t look away because she’d needed me and my strength. I was dying inside, morphing into someone, something, Emery wouldn’t recognize, but I couldn’t let her suffer alone, so I’d kept my eyes on hers as he’d ravaged her body.

  Watching her die had changed me into the beast I am now.

  I wonder how Willow is going to react to me. Will she recognize me? Will she see me as a man, or will she see the darkness lurking inside, just waiting to tear her apart? In her broken state, will she care to see anything at all?

  Looking through the high-powered lens, I watch her. It’s no surprise she’s crying again. I shake my head as I smile. “Weeping Willow, get ready for me. I’m coming to release you.”

  The time is close. I almost have everything prepared.

  2

  A Stranger Calls

  Willow

  How does the heart mend when it can’t beat? It’s a question I’ve asked since the day you left. Thirteen years, you were by my side, showing me that love is more than a story I write about in my books. It’s an all-consuming feeling that caused me to smile for no reason, be irrational over nothing, and blush thinking of our bodies meshed together. Love—it was all related to you, and now you’re gone, and I don’t know how to live. I don’t know how to breathe. How to feel. How to tell my heart it’s allowed to keep me alive.

  We made a pact—where you go, I go—but you went where I’m not allowed. You died, and everyone says I have to stay here. How could you do this?

  How am I supposed to survive without you?

  A tear falls, and I swipe it away quickly before it can distort his handsome face. These photographs are all I have left to remind me of Abraham. Photographs and the thousands of memories that threaten to drown me every time I look at them. At us. Our happiness. It’s a joy I long for that’s no longer attainable. No matter how long I stare at these images or wish or pray, there is no miracle that will bring him back. And, oh, what I would give to have him back. What I would do…

  I don’t understand how so many in my life think I should have moved on by now. How barely a year after losing him, I should be back to my old self. They haven’t lost the other half of their soul. They didn’t lose the person whose smile made them believe anything was possible, but they judge me for being broken. They just don’t get it.

  Abe was more than my husband. He wasn’t only my best friend. He was the best person I had ever known, proof that there was humanity in this messed-up world. Abe was my faith. Without him, I’m floundering in darkness, my heart full of despair. The walls have been closing in on me little by little since he died, and I pray for the day they crush me.

  “You would hate me thinking like that, wouldn’t you?” I say, running my finger across a photo of our wedding day. His smile is electric, lighting up the entire image. It was always that way. “I miss you so much.”

  Another tear falls, and soon I’m sobbing. This is what happens every time. Every day. I keep telling myself I’ll stop looking at these pictures. I’ll get dressed and go out, but each day, I find myself drawn back to his smile and the memories we shared. My heart isn’t ready to let him go. I’m not ready. It doesn’t matter who thinks I should be.

  Abraham Summers is not a man to be easily forgotten.

  “And you won’t be. I don’t care who tells me I should be ready, Abe. I won’t walk away from you. From us. I promise.”

  I kiss his face and snuggle the photo to my chest, needing to feel him close. For just a minute, I need to trick myself into believing he’s here and hugging me back. It doesn’t matter that reality will set in and it will hurt worse. Living without him is too much.

  It was supposed to be Abe and me taking on the world forever. He joked about being Mr. Willow Summers. He loved being the man behind the romance author. Signings were fun for him. Mingling with my fans was his favorite, and they adored him just as much. Especially his funny T-shirts. His O.B.B. - Original Book Boyfriend tee always got the ladies giggling. I think they loved him nearly as much as I did. He was the life of the party. Everyone enjoyed being around him.

  How am I supposed to go back to being that woman? The one who writes about love when I lost the most epic one? Signings will never be the same because he’s not there. And movie premieres—dressing up by myself is depressing. Abe made everything more fun. I need him to be me.

  “Dammit! Why did you leave me?” I scream, kicking the pictures from the table in front of me. They fly up into the air, and Abe’s face falls al
l around me. “No!” I cry out on a hiccupping sob. Dropping to my knees, I frantically scoop up the pictures and lay them back on the table, making sure none are damaged. “I’m so sorry.”

  Curling into a ball, I keep our wedding picture tucked close to my heart as the tears fall. Today was supposed to be the day—the day I got out of these ratty pajamas that Abe loved so much. The day I went to get a haircut and took my life back. It was supposed to be the day I started finding out who I am without him.

  The truth is, I’m nobody.

  “I can’t do this without you, Abe. I just want to go with you.”

  “Is that what you really want, Weeping Willow?”

  Jumping from my chair, I lose my grip on my photo as I search for the sound of the deep voice that shouldn’t be in my house. Excitement courses through me that I got my wish. That God sent Abe back for me, until a man I don’t recognize steps into view. His blue eyes pierce me with fear, but a pang of familiarity shoots through me too. Where have we met?

  “I asked you a question? Do you really want to die?”

  I should run. But where would I go? He’s a large man, his muscles evident through his button-down shirt. Why is he dressed up? Black dress slacks. Leather loafers I know cost more than most people can afford in a month. And that pristine white shirt. If he planned something nefarious, wouldn’t he dress more appropriately?