He's A Monster

So Cold ( 2 )

Danielle's Perspective POV

"Good, because it's my blood."

My eyes widened, and I sputtered the drink out. The metallic liquid splashed across Vincent's face. His lips stretched into a cruel smile.

"Aw, what's wrong, darling? You enjoyed it before," he teased, his voice silk over steel.

I tried to look away, my mind screaming no. Sick, wrong, impossible—but my body ached, begging for more despite my instincts.

"You sick fuck!" I spat.

"Fuck off!" He laughed, a deep, cruel sound that shook the cabin walls.

"Wait, until Marshal comes and gets yo—"

A searing pain shot through my throat. My words cut off abruptly as his hand gripped my neck, nails digging in.

"Don't you dare speak his name."

My chest thumped violently. My throat tightened, black spots forming at the edges of my vision.

"Fu-fuck you," I rasped, voice strained.

His grip tightened. I gasped, trying to draw breath, clawing at his hand with trembling fingers.

Marshal's Perspective POV

The sounds of destruction, glass shattering, floorboards cracking, and wood splitting ripped through the night as I ran toward Danielle's house.  My chest pounded, veins burning with urgency. She wasn't in my room when I returned; her footsteps ended suddenly in the grass feet away from my cabin. 

"Danielle!" I shouted, fists slamming against the walls, knocking over her desk chair in my wake as I climbed in her window, seeing her bed untouched and her body nowhere, her scent fading.

"Where the fuck are you!?"

Every nerve screamed danger, every instinct screamed chase. My blood throbbed. Something was wrong.

"Why would you take her?!" I screamed, voice breaking as I thought about the mysterious letter and the death of Alex. It couldn't be a coincidence. 

Her room's door creaked open. I froze. Her mother. Her pale, wide-eyed mother, smaller than I remembered, was trembling in the doorway. Her skin mirrored Danielle's innocence, and my stomach twisted.

"I-I'm s-sorry, Miss, I didn't--" I stammered.

Her arms wrapped around me, holding me firm. My head fell against her small frame, shaking. My hands gripped the edge of her apron violently.

"Shh, Marshal."

"I,I don't know where she went," I admitted, voice breaking. Be strong. Be strong, I thought. Don't cry.

"What if she's hurt?" I whispered, panic rising.

Her eyes bored into mine. "Pull it together, Sweetpea."

I swallowed hard. "S-sorry, miss."

"Now go and find her. Don't let her get away, and--" Her words stopped, her gaze scanning the chaos.

"And, I will clean this up."

Heat rushed to my cheeks in embarrassment. My heart thundered as I turned toward the night sky, darker now, heavy with foreboding.

"Who are you?" I thought, sensing a presence: another mind, another voice, brushing against mine. A low laugh, accented, English, dark.

"Your brother."

A chill ran through me. "My brother? Wait, my brother?"  My thoughts were blank, I had a brother?

"Where is she?" I shouted silently, rage and disbelief coursing through me.

"You'll see. She's safe... and soft... perfect against my skin..."

I screamed inside my head. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH HER!"

Laughter echoed in my thoughts, dark and taunting, and my blood boiled. My fingers dug into my palms.

My Danielle.

"Oh, I should tell her how worried you are when she wakes from the choking I gave her..."

"Choking?!"

I seethed. The laughter echoed. "You lie. You wouldn't, and if you would.. You are a monster."

"Oh, I wish I were lying, brother," the voice teased.

"DON'T. FUCKING. CALL ME YOUR BROTHER! YOU ARE NO BROTHER OF MINE! WHEN I FIND YOU, I WILL KILL YOU—"

I clenched my teeth, eyes to the sky, searching for guidance. Signs. Anything.

He's hurting her. She needs help. Protect her.

"Oh, I'm so scared, brother."  The voice sarcastically cooed with a laugh.

Every nerve screamed urgency. Only one thing mattered: find her, stop him. That "brother," that monster, wouldn't touch her again.

"You should be, fucker," I hissed, legs propelling me toward the cabin. My hands clenched, my mind a storm of fear and anger.