Evanesce (The Darkness #2)

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Authors: Cassia Brightmore

BOOK: Evanesce (The Darkness #2)
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EVANESCE

Copyright ©2015 Cassia Brightmore

Evanesce is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading and sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

First eBook edition: June 2015

Kindle Edition

Edited: Ellie McLove

Cover design: © L.J. Anderson at
Mayhem Cover Creations

Stock Photography: Arman Zhenikeyev & Louis W

Information address:
[email protected]

DEDICATION

For my Mom.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

The Darkness Series

Acknowledgements

About the Author Cassia Brightmore

PROLOGUE

D
espair is a
complicated emotion. It can spiral you down into the depths of hell. Drain the life from your soul slowly; feast on your goodness. When all has been lost, when the one thing you loved most in this world is cruelly ripped from your arms—will you sink into the black abyss or step into the blazing flame of revenge?

Rage can be fuelled by many things, it has the power to give strength to the weak. Evil is real, it feeds on fear; will decimate even the strongest of wills. When faced with a choice, will you succumb into submission or will you fight to survive; fight for the lives of those you love?

CHAPTER ONE

B
rooke Spencer snatched
her keys from her purse and headed to the front door of her office. Locking up the dentistry practice she co-owned with her partner, Dr. Mills had never been a problem for her. The small town of Norton Springs, Texas wasn’t one that was prone to crime and even if it was, she was more than capable of taking care of herself after years of self-defense classes.

Stepping outside into the warm evening air, she pulled the glass door closed behind her and swiftly engaged the lock. Her black SUV was parked several feet away, a large car considering her family consisted of just herself and her “fur baby.” A large brown mutt she rescued from a shelter a few years earlier. Transporting him from place to place called for a large vehicle for them both to ride comfortably.

Her phone dinged in her purse, indicating an incoming email. Rummaging around in it from its awkward position on her shoulder, she pulled it free and opened the message. A small smile crossed her pink lips as she read the email from her partner detailing the next day’s patient appointments. Jimmy Holden was due to come in, he was an adorable eight year-old boy that she—

Whoosh.
The air was knocked out of her as she was forcibly shoved from behind, her phone skittering out of her hands and landing a few feet away. She threw her arms forward to try to catch herself as the ground rushed up to meet her in a jarring greeting that shook her bones.
What the fuck?
Her instincts kicked in, causing her to quickly roll to one side, narrowly avoiding the glove-covered hand that reached for her. Shoving herself up to her knees, she tried to get a good look at her attacker. He was tall and built, his features were hidden behind the dark hoodie pulled low over his eyes. His movements were slow and practiced, giving Brooke the sickening feeling this wasn’t just a robbery.

“Get up, bitch,” he demanded, approaching her again. If Brooke had been watching this in a movie, she would have rolled her eyes at his ridiculous request.
Like fuck I will, asshole.
Spotting her keys just within arm’s reach, she lunged, hoping to catch her assailant off guard and grab her keys to use as a weapon. A moment of glee raced through her as her fingers closed around the jagged pieces of metal. Stars exploded behind her eyes, causing her to cry out as the man delivered a vicious kick to her back, rendering her useless as she face-planted onto the asphalt. “Fuck,” she mumbled around a mouthful of blood. Picturing her attacker smirking at her foolish attempt to gain the upper hand, anger rose in her, fast and furious.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
Calling on her years of self-defense training, she kept her body very still as she listened carefully to his movements. Just as he leaned down to grab her, she rolled, her legs scissoring out with force. Catching him on the back of his knees was her goal and she hit it like a bulls-eye. The second he started to fall, she was gone. Scrambling to her feet, she ran. Finally remembering her voice, she screamed long and loud. “Heeelp! Someone! There’s a fire!” Reaching the door of her office, she yanked on the handle, cursing when it didn’t budge.
The keys.
Looking over her shoulder, she spotted them not far from where the man was slowly gaining his footing. Not wasting another second, she took off again, darting into the alley between her office and the next.
Stupid, Brooke. Get the fuck out of this alley, fast.
Cardboard boxes and dumpsters lined the street, a blur of objects as she ran past. Reaching the end, she chanced another look behind her, terror overtaking her when she spotted him just a few short feet behind her. His silence was unnerving. He didn’t yell at her to stop, he calmly pursued as if he knew her fate was sealed. His resolve pushed her to fight harder.
Run, Brooke. Run for your life.

Racing to the right, she stumbled when the heel broke off her black satin pump. Yanking off the ruined shoes, she continued in just her stockings, ignoring the pebbles and God knows what else slicing into the soles of her feet. Spotting the small bakery door ahead on the left, she increased her speed—despite the burning in her lungs begging her to stop and rest.
Mary
. Mary would still be there, she always worked late on Tuesdays. Relief filled her when she reached the door and found it open. Hurrying inside, she slammed and locked the door. “Mary! Call the police! Quick, we need help!” The kind elderly woman rushed into the entrance.

“Brooke. What on earth…” her face showed her bewilderment and concern. Crossing to her, she sought to soothe. “Come. Sit down and tell me what happened.” She tugged on Brooke’s arm, trying to coax her into the bakery’s kitchen.

“No! You don’t understand. Call the police, Mary, please!” Brooke was frantic, the words coming out rushed. Time seemed to stop in that moment, there was a loud bang as the door was thrown open and bounced off the wall, the snapped lock hanging haphazardly from the door. A series of loud popping sounds followed, startling Brooke. She could only stare as Mary’s eyes widened in shock, and then filled with pain as she crumpled to the floor. Blood pooled beneath her where she lay, the life behind her eyes slowly draining away.

“Nooooo!” Reaching for Mary, she was yanked back and spun around to face the nightmare man. Trapped in his arms, she struggled—biting, kicking, scratching.

“Someone is expecting you, girl,” his cold voice informed her. Brooke had one quick moment to wonder who he was referring to before he brought the butt of his gun down across her face and everything went black.

*     *     *

Brooke squeezed her
eyes shut as she slowly came to. Peering into the pitch black nothingness, she struggled to sit up. “Shit,” she swore as her head collided with something hard. Rubbing it to relieve the sting, she tried to make sense of her surroundings. She was trapped in the fetal position—her legs had no room to stretch out and she couldn’t sit up.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck!
She was in a goddamn trunk. Panic overtook her as she struggled to roll over. She needed to find the brake light and kick it out. Every cop show she had ever watched always said, if you’re trapped in the trunk of a car—kick out the fucking brake light and wave for help.

Fumbling in the dark, she groped around the edge of the metal, relentless in her search for the light. “Come on, come on where is it.” Hysteria was threatening to take over, she needed to get out of the fucking trunk and she needed to do it now. Wherever this man was taking her, it wasn’t going to end well. At twenty-six, she was smart enough to know that being kidnapped and tossed into a trunk was not a good situation.
Who the hell is this guy? And what did he mean that someone wants to see me?
The thought of his last words to her brought Mary’s face to mind and she stifled a sob. She brought that man to her door and now the kind woman was dead. And it was her fault. Tears leaked out of her eyes as she replayed the scene. Brooke was now she was caught in his clutches, on her way to a very likely worse fate than poor Mary.

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