Hunted (Cursed Love book 1)

Naomi

Chapter 20
Five years ago.

Marcus is confusing.
I shift in the seat, my stomach tightening as I steal a glance at Marcus, his eyes straight ahead, locked on the road. The guy in the back keeps squirming, his wrists bound in duct tape, muffled sounds of struggle filling the silence. Vaughn's hand rests casually on the steering wheel, the other hanging out the window with a cigarette lazily burning between his fingers.
Beside me, Kaya is stiff, gripping my arm tight like she's holding on for dear life. I don't know why I got in the car. The second Marcus looked at me, something just clicked, and before I knew it, I was sitting here, trapped in this tense silence. It's stupid. But we're okay now, aren't we?
I think Marcus and his father are manipulating me,  Mom's words eco in my mind, and I think Anderson wants to take over your father's business. And Marcus is helping him.
Kaya suddenly speaks up, her voice tense, almost shaking, "Who is he? Where are we going? What are you going to do to him?"
Neither Vaughn nor Marcus say a word. The silence hangs heavy between us, and I feel Kaya's grip tighten even more, her nails digging into my skin.
"I asked you a question," she snaps.
Marcus glances at her, just a quick look. "Three questions, actually."
Vaughn barely acknowledges her, his voice cold and dismissive. "Would've been smarter to ask before you got in."
Will you at least tell me what we're going to do?" I ask, my voice low but steady, eyes locked on Marcus.
He meets my gaze in the rearview mirror, those blue eyes of his slicing through me. They're so cold, so indifferent, but I can't help it—I'm drawn to them. I've always been. Ever since we were kids, those eyes had a way of pulling me in, no matter how distant he seemed.
He doesn't answer right away, just holds my stare for a moment longer before shifting his focus back to the road. I swallow, feeling the tension crackle between us like a live wire. There's something about the way he looks at me, like he knows exactly how much I'm hanging on his every word—or lack of them.
"Don't worry about it," he finally says, his tone dismissive, almost bored.
That's it? He was so warm just hours before. What the hell?
The car jerks to a stop, and I glance out the window. Winstone Cemetery looms ahead, dark and eerie beneath the dim streetlights. A chill crawls up my spine.
"What are we doing here?" Kaya's voice wavers, her eyes wide with unease.
"Get out," Vaughn's voice snaps, sharp and commanding, before he and Marcus swing their doors open without a second thought. They're already halfway out by the time Kaya and I stumble to follow, the heavy weight of tension thickening the air.
As soon as I step out, I see them yanking the guy from the back, dragging him out like a rag doll. Vaughn's face twists in that manic way I've seen before—a mix of fury and something unhinged, like he's seconds from snapping.
"I hate being mad," Vaughn growls, his fingers gripping the guy's shirt as they pull him toward the cemetery gates. "Every single one of you. Useless. You fuck up everything."
He tosses the guy like trash onto the dirt, standing over him with a crazed gleam in his eyes, breathing heavy, erratic.
"Stop it!" Kaya yells, her voice high and panicked, but I grab her hand, shaking my head. She doesn't get it. She doesn't understand.
Vaughn isn't just mad—he's dangerous. And Marcus? He's cold, detached. The way he watches, calm and calculating, like he's waiting for the right moment. Vaughn's the one who'll lose control.
I pull Kaya back a little, whispering, "Do you know him? Vaughn?" The name feels heavy, like a threat I should've understood before all this.
Kaya doesn't answer. Instead, she jerks her arm free and storms up to Vaughn, practically throwing herself in his path. "Let him go!" Her voice shakes, but her stance doesn't.
Vaughn barely gives her a sideways look before he shoves her, hard. Kaya stumbles back, crashing onto the muddy ground with a sharp gasp.
"Kaya!" I'm at her side in an instant, the rush of anger making my voice snap as I turn to Vaughn. "What's wrong with you?" The words come out before I can think better of it.
He looks at me, unblinking, a slow, twisted smile spreading across his face. "If you want to have fun, shut up," he says, his voice low, almost a hiss. There's something crazed in his eyes, a kind of hunger that makes my skin crawl.
I glance at Marcus, silently begging for some kind of reaction, but he just watches, cold and unmoved. That familiar hardness in his stare tells me this is nothing to him. Like this is normal.
I reach down, helping Kaya back to her feet, my pulse hammering so hard I'm sure they can both hear it. This is so beyond stupid. I don't even know what I'm doing here, why I thought being close to Marcus would make this worth it. And now, I've dragged Kaya into it too.
"You okay?" I whisper.
She nods, brushing herself off, though her hands shake just slightly. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Don't mess with him," I murmur, leaning close. "Vaughn's... not stable. You don't want to be his target."
She bites her lip, nodding, but I see her eyes narrow as she watches him. And still, we keep moving forward, following Vaughn's unsteady steps down the cemetery path.
We step up to the edge of an abandoned church, its steeple leaning with age and rot, silhouetted against the moon. Broken stained glass windows throw distorted colors over crumbling stone walls, and the heavy oak doors hang slightly ajar, creaking in the night air.
"What is this place?" I murmur, eyes sweeping over the empty, darkened structure. Ivy crawls up the stone, suffocating parts of it, while carved saints watch over us with hollow, cracked eyes. It's like they're judging every step we take, warning us to turn back.
Marcus and Vaughn stride forward, dragging the guy across the worn threshold, and I shoot a nervous glance at Kaya before we follow. Inside, it's cold. Decades of dust coat the floor, and the faint scent of mold mixes with the sharp metallic tang of something older, something wrong. Wooden pews lie in ruins, scattered around, and up front, a faded painting of Jesus on the cross stares down at us, his eyes almost hollow in the candlelight that Vaughn had somehow lit in the corner.
The Winstone cemetery has been around since 1971, one of the town's last relics. People still visit the cemetery, leaving flowers on family graves, but I never knew a church even existed here. And now it feels like we're trespassing, in the worst way.
Vaughn hauls the guy into the center of the room, directly under that haunting gaze, and tosses him down with a laugh that chills my bones. Marcus slips his hands into his pockets and settles himself down on a broken pew, casual as anything, while Vaughn steps toward a darkened hallway to the right, opening a door with a slow, eerie creak. He backs up with a grin that sends shivers down my spine, something wild and unhinged in his gaze.
I look at Marcus, hoping for any sign of reassurance, but he's as unreadable as ever, leaning back with a faint smirk. Beside me, Kaya trembles slightly, her hand clutching my arm.
Vaughn's voice cuts through the silence, smooth and sickly, "Sit down." He gestures to the pews, sprawling in the front like he's some twisted preacher. "Sex in front of God is an art," he says, eyes glinting as he glances at the guy on the floor. "Not a privilege everyone gets."
The guy on the ground goes rigid, and just as I'm about to breathe, two men step from the shadows, ripping the duct tape off his arms, leaving him free but frozen.
The two men move in on him like wolves, fists clenched, eyes dead. One swings hard, cracking into his jaw with a sickening crunch that echoes through the hollow church, and the guy drops to his knees, blood splattering in a dark arc across the filthy floor. He gasps, trying to crawl back, but the other man grabs his collar, yanking him forward, only to slam a fist straight into his nose. The sick, wet crunch of cartilage breaking fills the air, and blood gushes out, dripping down his face, mixing with the dirt as he struggles to breathe through it.
I'm frozen, stomach twisted, as Vaughn's laugh cuts through the night, sharp and wild. He watches like he's front row at some twisted show, grin spreading wider with each second. The guy's face is shoved to the dirt by one of the men, while the other forces his clothes off, rough and careless. His pants drop, and without a moment's hesitation, he slams himself into the guy. The scream that follows is raw, jagged, echoing in the quiet. Beside me, Kaya's face goes white before she hunches forward, vomiting.
My stomach hurts and I turn away. My gaze lands on Marcus, who's more interested in watching me than whatever fucked up shit is going on.
"Make it stop," I mouth.
He just stares at me, slow and deliberately as he trails his gaze up and down me. A shiver runs through my body.
Not being able to take the sounds, I swallow, turning around and running out of the hall. My breath is harsh as I feel the cries slow down.
Marcus is trying to frame you into something, Mom said, And I heard them talking about you.
Where? I asked her, When?
When Marcus came over to get some documents from your father's office. He was in the phone with his father. I don't think his uncle is trying to collaborate with your father.
Mom is wrong. How can I trust a woman who left me and then shows up after eighteen years, only to ask money from my—no—her ex?
A hand grips my wrist and I'm pulled back. I gasp, opening my eyes. It's all dark.
"Hello!" I call out, my voice shaking. It's all dark in here, but I can hear the guy's cries from outside.
My hand lands on the wall and I feel my pants being pulled off. I gasp, trying to scream but he clasps his hand over my mouth.
"He deserves it," he whispers in my ear and I feel a sense of...relief?
"Marcus? What are you guys doing?" I ask hastily.
Then, I feel something cold between my folds. It's circle. I gasp. "Marcus,"
"You don't know me,"
His hand reaches inside my top and under my bra, and he plays with my already hard nipples. I moan out, hands placed against the wall.
He shoves the ball like thing even up my folds and rubs it between my folds. I cry out softly, my legs trembling.
"You make it hard to watch someone else get fucked," he whispers in my ear and I shiver. He presses his bulge against my ass, "Feel that? What kind of bastard would be hard during a scene like that? And what kind of bitch would be turned on by it?"
"I'm not turned on!" I cry out.
"I think my baby is a little liar," he whispers and turns the ball around and—I feel teeth—digging in my pussy. It's a skull.
Oh, Lord.
I cry out in pleasure as the teeth's rub against my clit. Marcus pinches my nipples and I throw my head back, earning him a loud moan.
He pushes me against the wall, "Hmm. Your tits are made for fucking. You'll take my dick in there tonight."
"Yes..." I cry out.
He slaps my breast, pinching it hard and I squeal. "What did you just say, slut?"
"Yes!"
He shoves me back and I fall ass first on the floor. My body shakes as I look up at him in the darkness. My breath catches on my throat as I feel him standing on top of me, and in matter of seconds, he pulls off my top, ripping my bra off in the process. I gasp out, wanting to feel his touch.
When I don't feel any movement for a moment, I call out, "Marcus?"
"You don't fucking know me," he shoves his dick in my mouth and I gag. "Use your teeth and I'll tear that pussy to shreds,"
My mouth clenches around him and tears sting my eyes. I bob my head to keep up with his pace. His fingers grip tightly around my hair as he shoves his cock deeper inside my throat.
"Play with your clit, go on," he commands, making my spine shiver.
My hand reaches down, stroking my clit while he moves my head back and forth.
I want to come.
"That's it. Choke on my dick like it's the best fucking thing you've ever seen," he pants, "Worship me,"
He lets out a low groan, his body shaking against me and then he spurts out his cum all inside my mouth.
Thick, hot liquid runs down my throat, and he pulls back reluctantly. I swallow his cum, my mouth aching in the process. But I also feel a certain emptiness, as if something was supposed to be inside of my body.
When I look up after wiping my lips, I don't feel him, nor hear him.
"Marcus?" My voice is hoarse.
Then, suddenly a small light bulb from above flicks on, and I realize I'm in a store room. My gaze goes to the floor and there's a skull staring right back at me, covered in cum.