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They came for me in the dead of night. Silent like ghosts. Three faceless men with one thing on their mind, revenge.
The Dancer
I was stolen.
Ripped from the people I love, and imprisoned in a medieval castle in Scotland with walls as thick and impenetrable as the stone encasing my kidnappers’ hearts.
Do as they say and you’ll survive this place.
Refuse their orders and feel the consequences of their wrath.
Everyone here calls them The Masks.
I call them my enemy.
I may seem fragile, weak, but I’m not like all the rest.
I’m not just a dancer, or a singer, or a musician that they can loan out as entertainment to sick men and women.
I’m a fighter. I come from a long line of them.
This time they stole the wrong girl, and these walls…?
They’ll come crashing down even if I have to rip them apart myself, brick by bloody brick.
The Masks
We took her.
A payment for a debt. A very personal one.
With our father “The Collector” dead, we are the heirs to a twisted dynasty with nothing but revenge in our hearts, blood on our hands, and darkness in our souls.
Our home bears witness to our cruelty.
The prisoners within it, scarred by our wrath.
We’re the soulless creatures as twisted as any monster real or imagined.
We steal, thieving not just the artist themselves, but the light that makes them shine bright.
We must keep up our father’s legacy.
We must have revenge.
The Dancer we stole is ours to play with. Ours to use.
She won’t survive this place.
We’ll make sure of it.
Pressing my back against the cold, damp wall, I draw my bare feet up, the heavy chains I’m wearing scrape across the concrete floor, chinking as I move. The sound is harsh and obtrusive in this otherwise silent room. Room? Who am I trying to kid? This is a prison, I see that now as the tiniest amount of light penetrates beneath what looks to be an iron door. I stare at that strip of light, focusing on it and what it reveals.
A stone cell. No bigger than ten feet square.
This is my fate.
This room.
These men.
The Masks.
Konrad. Leon. Jakub.
I’ve looked into the eyes of two of them, and heard the voice of the third, and I’m no better off knowing who they are apart from the fact they believe Roger killed their father on Kate’s orders or rather their alter egos did. Beast and Grim are feared and respected in equal measure by many.
Except by these men.
Taking me is their revenge.
They came for me. They drugged me. They stole me away.
Now I’m imprisoned in their home with no idea what they intend to do to me…
That’s a lie. You know exactly what they want from you.
I do. I do know.
“You’re ours now, Zero,” Konrad had said.
Ours.
Theirs.
I’m theirs.
Konrad had shown me a glimpse of what being theirs meant. He’d touched me intimately. He did it without any thought or care, without remorse or guilt, without empathy. He stole a first of mine and tainted it. How many more firsts will he steal? Will they steal? Am I to become their plaything? Is this what my future holds? I’m to be used and abused for revenge?
Yes.
Yes, that’s exactly what they’ll do to you.
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