Denouement: The Darkness Series , #3

By Cassia Brightmore

The past and present collide in the final book of the Darkness Series. Old enemies return and unlikely allies are formed when a serial arsonist targets the small town of Stockton Crossing, Louisiana. Working together with the surrounding towns of Durham Heights and Norton Springs, firefighter Lieutenant Weston Hunt is forced out of his reclusive tendencies to help apprehend the madman.

When Aubrey Sinclair, the sexy librarian he’s always had a thing for becomes the next target, they are thrown together in more ways than one. She needs his protection and he’s powerless to deny her. With the chaos closing in around them, will they solve the puzzle before it’s too late? Or is their destiny to go down in a fiery blaze?

All bets are off and the body count is higher than ever in this explosive, maddening conclusion to the Darkness Series. The final act is upon us—do you dare enter the darkness one last time?

Warning: This is a dark romance novel not intended for readers under the age of 18 due to graphic violence and situations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassia Brightmore
• Release date: Nov 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516326655

Cassia Brightmore

Cassia Brightmore is a new indie author.  Her debut novel, Malevolent is the first book in the Darkness Series and can be read as a standalone.   Writing has always been a passion of hers and publishing her first novel is truly a dream come true. She enjoys writing dark stories that she hopes will thrill the reader. Cassia lives in Grimsby, Canada with her two furbabies, Harley and Molly. Join Cassia's Sassy Sirens: https://www.facebook.com/groups/CassiasSassySirens/ Connect with her here: https://www.facebook.com/CassiaBrightmoreAuthor [e-mail] Twitter: @cassiabr8tmore tsu: https://www.tsu.co/CassiaBr8tmoreAuthor Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cassiabrightmor/ Instagram:  http://instagram.com/cassia_brightmore_author/

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Stepping back from the brink of madness is an enormous feat. Can it be done? Can the mind heal itself after sinking to the lowest of lows, committing the most unspeakable of acts? When the fight of good against evil has consumed you, what would you do if the person staring back at you in the mirror has been stripped away? Reduced to nothing but the devil incarnate, a nightmare walking amongst the living.

Nothing causes a greater chill than the burn of an incessant flame. Given the right ammunition, an indestructible weapon can be formed, its purpose to cause chaos and devastation. Once the match has been lit, is there any way to avoid detonation?

DENOUEMENT – THE FINAL ACT

CHAPTER ONE

The lyrical music flowing from the bedside table had Serena Collins opening one eye in reluctance. The sound of the alarm tried to disguise itself as a soft melody, but its real intentions were revealed when the noise level increased; refusing to let her drift back to sleep. Groggily, she slapped at her phone, turning the offending sound off. Five o’clock in the morning, ugh. Rolling over, she stared up at the ceiling in the darkness, ignoring the pounding in her head. That fourth glass of merlot the night before definitely wasn’t a good idea when she had an early wake-up call to begin training for the marathon she’d be a part of in eight weeks.

With a sigh she threw off her duvet, apologizing to Barkley, her large german shepherd, when the blanket engulfed his head. He left out an annoyed huff and peered at her, his displeasure at being awakened obvious.

Sorry, buddy. But if I have to get up, you’re coming with me. Serena swore he rolled his eyes at her before obeying and hopping down from her king-sized bed.

Padding into the bathroom, she blinked several times against the harsh light as she looked in the mirror. Taming her shoulder length brown hair into a ponytail, she splashed water on her face and added a bit of moisturizer to protect her skin from the cool morning wind. The days in her small town of Stockton Crossing were typically quite warm, however the mornings were known to be chilly.

Changing into her running gear, she laced her shoes and then grabbed Barkley’s leash, turning to look at him expectantly. He was laying on the large couch in the living room, his head resting comfortably on one of her throw pillows.

Oh no you don’t. We’re in this together, mister. She pointed at him and then herself with the end of his leash. Those puppy dog eyes don’t work on me. I’m immune. I am, she argued.

Barkley let out a low growl and rolled on his back, wagging his tail. Serena sighed and threw hands up in the air.

Fine. Fine. But don’t expect any cookies, she told him, watching his ears prick up at the word. Damn dog knows those puppy dog eyes get to me every time, she muttered as she locked her front door and tucked her keys into her zipper pocket.

Zipping up her hoodie, she started out at a slow jog down her driveway and onto the road that led to the trail that she’d mapped out to run every morning. Her music pumped into her ears from her little earbuds, pushing her to work her legs harder and pick up the pace.

Steadying her breathing, she settled into a run, enjoying taking in the view of tall trees and rolling green grass. Several small wildlife animals scampered across her path, startled by the snapping sound of twigs under her feet. Just over a mile and a half in, Serena focused on a spot several yards away, making it her goal. If she could push to that spot, she’d let herself stop for a few minutes for a sip of delicious water. A cool drink would be perfect, just what she’d need to loop back—"Ooomph."

The breath was knocked out of her as she was tackled unexpectedly from behind, sending her crashing to the ground, her head bouncing hard off a large rock. The world around her swirled black for a few moments. She blinked up at the sky, wondering why the clouds were moving so rapidly as she tried to clear the fuzziness from her vision.

A shadow appeared in the right corner of her eye, an unmoving lump laying on the ground beside her. Had someone tripped and knocked her down with them? Ever cautious, she reached out a hand to touch the stranger’s shoulder, snatching it back when a moan escaped from the figure, startling her. A dark hood covered their head, it was impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman.

Hey. Are you okay? she asked, uncertain of what she should do. Instinct was screaming at her to get up and run, yet she couldn’t leave the person here unattended if they were hurt.

When there was no reply or further sounds, Serena decided that getting the hell out of there was her best option. Once she was far away she could send help back. Something about the situation was off, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end, sweat beginning to crease in her brow. She pushed herself to her feet, wincing when the action made her head pound harder. She’d be lucky if she didn’t have a concussion. A few steps away, the stranger moaned again, letting out a yelp of pain. Conscience won out over sense and she turned back. Leaving someone who was obviously injured wasn’t something she could do.

Pulling her phone from the zipper pocket in her shorts, she called out in a shaky voice. I’m going to get some help— she broke off in shock when the figure leaped up from the ground. Realizing it was a man, she stumbled back in shock at the sight of his ski-mask covered face, landing hard on her ass in the dust. The impact jolted her, causing her already throbbing head to spin, her phone flying out of her hand, skittering across the ground a few feet away.

As she sucked in the breath to scream, she had a split-second view of a fist flying towards her face before everything went black.

* *     *     *

A steady tap, tap, tap sound slowly brought Serena back to awareness. She was laying on a flat, cold surface, her hands and feet bound with thick rope. Struggling to sit up awakened aches and pains all over her body and she let out a groan as she made it into an upright position. She gingerly touched her eye, prodding the tender skin. She’d bet her life she was sporting a massive shiner. Her heart pounded in her ears as the reality of her situation sunk in. She was tied up. Tied up in some sort of fucking warehouse. Looking around, she tried to remain calm. The room she was in was large and freezing cold. The furniture was sparse, a set of wooden chairs lined the right wall and in the far left corner was an assortment of supplies. Buckets, brushes and a neatly stacked pile of chopped wood lay beside what looked like a gas burning fireplace. The only other object in the warehouse was one that terrified her.

A stainless steel hook dangled from the ceiling, suspended in the air by a thick chain. What the fuck is that for? she whispered to herself.

Eager to find out already? Serena whipped her head around at the man’s voice behind her. He was standing less than five feet away, a tall figure dressed head to toe in black, ski mask firmly in place. In his hands was a small box of matches that he was tapping from palm to palm in a consistent beat.

Who are you? she croaked out, her throat drying up in fear. Her gaze darted around the room, looking for any signs of a weapon or escape. Her eyes narrowed on the single door in the warehouse, it was only a short distance away but with her hands and feet bound it may as well have been miles. There had to be another way out of there.

Forgot me already, did you? We met not that long ago. His voice was clear and confident as he regained her attention. He seemed to have no qualms at all about having abducted her and holding her hostage.

Wh—why am I here? What do you want? she stuttered, she had no enemies that she could think of. Had never done anything to harm anyone. Why would this man choose her to prey on? Drawing in a shaky breath, she closed her eyes for a brief moment to get her bearings. If she lost it now, there would be no chance at outwitting him and getting free.

Why? he repeated as he began advancing on her. Serena’s heartbeat sped up to an impossible rate, threatening to burst out of her chest.

Stopping in front of her, he crouched down. His thumb captured a tear at the corner of her eye that she didn’t know had formed.

You’re here for my amusement, pet, he explained in a friendly tone. He pulled a matchstick from the box and struck the flame, his eyes staying glued to the orange ember until it burned out. He met her stare dead on, ignoring the way her body trembled at his close presence.

The air turned thick, strangling her and it became harder to suck in a breath. Serena started gasping, choking on the tears that were crawling up her throat.

Oh dear, I think you’re starting to panic a bit, he said with a frown. He raised a hand and pushed her hair back, loosening her ponytail in the process. Shhhh, pet. Calm down and take a deep breath, he instructed, still stroking her hair. She recoiled from his touch, leaning back as far as she could without ending up flat on her back. His eyes hardened behind the mask at her actions.

Don’t want my kindness, you ungrateful bitch? he snapped. From a hidden pouch at his waist he withdrew a menacing looking knife, flashing it in front of her face. Her eyes widened as she sucked in a breath.

No! Please— she broke off when he swiped the blade through the rope, freeing her hands. Hope burst in her veins as she frantically reached for the binding at her feet, desperate to loosen the bonds.

He shoved her hands away and grabbed the rope. Standing, he dragged her across the cold cement floor. She shrieked and bucked trying to get free of his grasp, her hoodie and thin tank riding up exposing the vulnerable flesh of her back. More tears leaked from her eyes as layers of skin were ripped away on the unforgiving floor of the warehouse.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take another second of the unbearable pain, he came to a sudden stop dropping her bound feet back to the ground. The pain in her back prevented her from once again trying to untie her feet.

Please, she begged. Her voice cracked on another sob. Please stop this. Let me go and I’ll keep quiet. I—I’ll say I fell…I fell on my run, she babbled. He ignored her and bent over the fireplace, opening the steel door and feeding more wood to the crackling flames.

Terror gripped her. What the fuck was he doing? She rolled over onto her stomach and attempted to draw her knees up to crawl away. She made it a few feet before he was on her. His hands gripped her shoulders as he flipped her onto her back.

Serena couldn’t keep her scream contained as he once again dragged her, her tattered skin tearing open even further.

Have you ever held anything over an open flame, pet? Watched skin blacken and shrivel? You’ve probably seen paper or wood burn—but skin? There’s nothing comparable to it. The sound, the smell. You see, it sucks in the embers, allows it to transform and mar it until there’s nothing left but dust. It’s fascinating, he carried on with his explanation, acting like a teacher instructing his pupil.

She shook her head back and forth, knowing where he was headed with his little lesson. No, no, no. Please, don’t. Please! she cried out, twisting her body to get out of his clutches. He ignored her, baring his teeth in a maniacal grin.

Let’s see how you glow, pet. He grabbed her hands and yanked her forward. She fell hard onto her knees, yelping at the painful impact. She immediately leaned back, trying like hell to get as far away from the fire as possible. One big hand encircled both of her wrists and before she could blink, he thrust them into the opening of the fireplace.

The pain was instantaneous. The flames licked over her skin, consuming every inch. A blood-curdling scream escaped her as she thrashed, desperately trying to yank her hands free. Her head spun and bile clawed its way up her throat at a sickeningly fast pace. Serena’s eyes were locked on the fire, her hands morphed into an orange ball of flame, completely engulfed.

Beautiful, the man whispered in a soft tone. Fucking beautiful.

Stoooop! Pl—please, please, she cried. Black dots danced in front of her eyes, no matter how hard she fought to hang on, she knew she was about to pass out and there was no telling what the sick fuck would do to her while she was unconscious. Fighting to hold on, her head whipped to the side as she involuntarily vomited. The pain was too much, too much to handle and her body rebelled against it.

He surprised her by pulling her back and releasing her hands from the flames. Sobbing, she collapsed on the floor in a heap, unable to focus on anything but the excruciating torture she’d endured. Her hands had only been in the fire less than a minute, but it’d felt like a lifetime. Her body shook, her limbs pulsed and every part of her felt like it’d been burned. This man, this psychotic lunatic had stolen a piece of her, a piece of her goodness had shriveled up and died. Crushed into dust in the heat of the flame. Taking a deep breath, Serena closed her eyes and fought for control. She had to think past the pain, past the horrific memory of what had happened and remain clear-headed. It was the only chance she had at staying alive and getting free.

Forcing herself to sit up, she faced him head on. His eyes stared back at her through the round holes of the black ski mask. Such vibrant colour was a mocking contrast, an anomaly of the evil lurking behind the faceless man’s attempt to hide himself.

You’re perfect. Your skin captured and held the flame so flawlessly. We’re going to have a lot of fun, you and me. His words were a chilling premonition of what was to come. He meant it, he was going to put her through that hell over and over if she didn’t do something.

He approached her with calm precision, not caring that she was scooting backwards on the concrete floor as fast as her injured hands would allow. They were trapped in a deadly game of cat and mouse, his footwork was as graceful as a dancers and she knew the odds were not in favour of outsmarting him and gaining her freedom.

Feeling the burned skin tear from the palms of her hands, she let out a muffled scream and stopped her feeble attempt at escape. Forgetting her precarious position for a moment, she glanced down at her palm, disgusted when she saw the tattered mess her hand was in.

The man crouched in front of her and tsked.

Bet that hurts, huh? His voice was raspy, as though he had smoked one too many cigarettes.

Of course it fucking hurts, you psycho. But you like that don’t you? You like burning holes in people and torturing them. It gets you off. You prob— she cut herself off when he raised a cylindrical object from the floor. She hadn’t even seen it there.

He tilted his head to the side, his mouth twisting into a grin. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her body along the floor until she was laying under him, ignoring her screams of protest and flailing limbs. With a quick flick of his thumb, the blow torch came to life. He was momentarily mesmerized by the orange and red flames, the life dancing behind the fire pumped his blood faster, sped up his breathing and shot lust through his veins. The bitch was right about one thing, he did get off on it.

I want to play a game. I get ten chances, and you get ten chances. If you can last ten minutes without screaming, I’ll give you a ten second head start to make it out the door. What do you say, girl? Think you can beat me? Without giving her a chance to answer he lowered the flame to her skin.

CHAPTER TWO

Lieutenant Weston Hunt let the screen door of his two-story house slam closed behind him as he walked out onto the porch. With a mug of steaming coffee in one hand and the morning paper tucked under his arm, he took a seat in his old wooden rocker, smiling when the ancient piece of furniture groaned under his weight. The rocker was a hand-me-down from his grandfather, one of his favorite pieces of furniture that he’d inherited when his grandparents passed away, aside from his country style home.

Early mornings were the only time he felt at peace. When the demons of his past weren’t floating in front of his face reminding him that he wasn’t worthy of a peaceful, happy existence. He deserved every moment of misery, every molecule of despair that plagued him.

Thick, black swirling smoke.

Orange, red and yellow flames dancing up the wall to the ceiling.

The deafening crash as the roof caved in.

The tortured screams for help fading into silence. West!

West shook his head to clear away the unwanted memories. The recollection of his brother screaming out for help haunted him on a daily basis. He could still feel the smoke choking him, the burn of the fire tearing up his arm as he’d fought to get to his brother. His chief had been the one to pull him from the burning building, otherwise he probably would have died right along with his brother that day. A fact that still infuriated him. They should have fought harder to get Bennett out and not him. He should have been the one left him behind. It should have been him that died, not his little brother. The survivor’s guilt he felt was like a thick black tar coating his lungs, it consumed his every thought, controlled every emotion. He’d failed his brother; his parents in the worst possible way. It was his job to protect Bennett and he’d let them all down. He’d never forgive himself for not saving his brother’s life.

Ever since the fire that claimed Bennett’s life five years earlier, he’d become known as the town recluse. With the exception of leaving the house for his job as a firefighter, he kept to himself. His brother had been his last living relative leaving him completely alone when he died. He’d grown used to the long stares and loud whispers from the citizens of Stockton Crossing when he ventured into town for supplies. He wasn’t alone in blaming himself for Bennett’s death. The only time he remotely felt like himself was when he was at work. He’d been unable to give up his job as a firefighter, no matter how much the painful memories haunted him. It was the last connection he had to his brother and he refused to let it go.

The only one that had remained friendly to him was the little red-headed librarian,