Shadows within us shadow.., p.1
Shadows Within Us (Shadows of Synd Book 4), page 1
Book 4 Shadows of Synd Series
by E. Abraham
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Trigger Warnings
1. Prologue
2. One
3. Two
4. Three
5. Four
6. Five
7. Six
8. Seven
9. Eight
10. Nine
11. Ten
12. Eleven
13. Twelve
14. Thirteen
15. Fourteen
16. Fifteen
17. Sixteen
18. Seventeen
19. Eighteen
20. Nineteen
21. Twenty
22. Twenty-One
23. Twenty-Two
24. Twenty-Three
25. Twenty-Four
26. Twenty-Five
27. Twenty-Six
28. Twenty-Seven
29. Twenty-Eight
30. Twenty-Nine
31. Thirty
32. Thirty-One
33. Thirty-Two
34. Thirty-Three
35. Thirty-Four
36. Thirty-Five
37. Thirty-Six
38. Thirty-Seven
39. Thirty-Eight
40. Thirty-Nine
41. Forty
42. Forty-One
43. Forty-Two
44. Forty-Three
45. Forty-Four
46. Forty-Five
47. Forty-Six
48. Forty-Seven
49. Forty-Eight
50. Forty-Nine
51. Fifty
52. Fifty-One
53. Fifty-Two
54. Fifty-Three
55. Fifty-Four
56. Fifty-Five
57. Fifty-Six
58. Fifty-Seven
59. Fifty-Eight
60. Fifty-Nine
61. Sixty
62. Sixty-One
63. Sixty-Two
64. Sixty-Three
65. Epilogue
Also by the Author
Emilia Abraham
Copyright © 2023 E Abraham
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All ideas and characters are that of
the author and should not be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the author.
Sharing is caring, but not for pirates. Be a friend, not a pirate.
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 979-8-9857684-8-0
Dedication
To all the readers who love and hate when the end comes-this one’s for you.
And the ones who always cry, even when things aren’t even sad. (You know who you are.)
Trigger Warnings
Anxiety/Depression
Attempted Murder/Murder
Blood
Death
Criminal Activity
Violence (guns/knives)
PTSD induced panic attacks/hallucinations
Hostage/Kidnapping
Physical abuse/Torture (not by MC)
Starvation
Morbid humor (suicide-one scene)
Content Warnings:
Adult Language
Adult Sexual Scenes
Light BDSM-choking, spanking
Lack of safe word (discussions of stopping)
Prologue
I'm officially a stalker.
I didn't mean to. Honestly, I should have stopped a long time ago, but something keeps pushing me toward them. Maybe I'm not a full stalker, though. Are there half stalkers? Quasi-stalkers? I don't want to be labeled a Peeping Tom, but it might be more accurate. It's not like I've been watching them for years. It's only been a little while. I don't follow them around town. I don't send creepy gifts. I don't want to slaughter any of them in their sleep or kidnap them from their beds. I just want to feel like I'm one of them.
They're the elite of Synd—gods walking among mortals. They run the city in full view of the public eye as well as the underbelly. I guess that's what happens when your families built the city. Oh, and the fact they're criminals. It feels weird to call them that. Mafia leaders and motorcycle clubs and all the things that go with it seem bigger than being a mere criminal. Engaging in criminal activity seems more appropriate. They're still the rulers of our city—untouchable.
At least, that's what I thought.
The last year proves they aren't entirely invincible. Between human traffickers, rival MCs, actual stalkers, and dirty judges, they've been hit hard. With each catastrophe that befalls them, the more human they appear. Yet they're stronger for the bonds they formed through the trauma. I wish I knew what that felt like—to be so intertwined with someone they'd come when I called, they'd fight for me no matter the cost.
The longer this goes on, the more my heart aches, the more I know it's wrong—to pine for a life I'll never have. It's ridiculous. Yet here I am, sitting outside Mason Byrns’s boundaries, tucked away in the trees and watching his silhouette in his office window.
It's late, the crisp fall wind rattling the last of the leaves on the trees creaking above me. I glance at them, wondering if one of them will fall on my head. It'd be my luck too. I'd probably be decapitated, but if I wasn't, then he'd find me passed out on his property with a head wound, wondering what the hell I was doing. Or someone would shoot me. More likely someone would put a bullet in my body, and I’d live and then…it wouldn’t be good.
"I wonder what it's like to get shot," I mutter.
Shaking my head, I focus on the shadow Mason Byrns casts through the window. He keeps weird hours, like me. Ever since he came home from the hospital, he wanders the halls of his mansion. I used to watch the Kings making the rounds. None of them keep regular sleep schedules either. It's just another thing that feels familiar when it really isn’t.
Watching the Kings hurt more, with their tight-knit family. Mason is different. It’s not rational, but I feel a connection to Mason as he bumbles around in his house, wearing his loneliness on his face. I doubt anyone else notices. The whole thing makes me think we’d get along, though it’s preposterous. We’ll never meet. There’s no connection. Nothing will change and we’ll both live our solitary existences, wishing for something that doesn’t exist for us. My heart aches at the thought.
I should go home, but it's peaceful here. Sometimes the silence at my house presses in on me, suffocating what little air is left in my lungs. I used to walk around the city, especially the outskirts of the Barrens, watching people go about their lives. I've found there's not a lot of difference between those at the top and those slumming it at the bottom. We’re all just searching for our place.
I skip around a tree trunk, hiding in its shadow as a guard comes around the corner of the house. The last thing I need is to be caught lurking. I might wonder what it's like to be shot, but I don't actually want to know.
Of course, my phone buzzes at the exact moment he crests the small hill, and he whips around. I hold my breath, cursing silently. Usually, I'm better than this. I've been rundown lately, and the lack of sleep is getting to me. Yet I'm still skulking around the Byrns’s estate.
The beefy guard keeps moving after a minute, hopefully chalking up the noise to an animal, and my breath leaves me in a whoosh. There's always the chance I could make a mistake, but I've been playing this game for years. I'm pretty confident in my skills.
A twig snaps to my right and I freeze, crouching as I peer into the dark. The moon sits low in the sky, so I don't have to compete with the light casting shadows between the trunks. I slowly pull the fabric from my neck up, covering my nose and mouth. I'd look even more sinister if someone caught me right now with a bandanna wrapped around my face. After five minutes, though, I'm pretty sure the noise was just an animal.
I glance back at the house, the ache in my chest shooting pain through me when the light winks out. I should stop this madness. Nothing good will ever come from it. I should resign myself to living out my life as my parents always said I would—alone. I was never enough for them, and they made it clear others would feel the same. Exhaustion settling into my bones. I promise myself I won't come back. I won't seek him out. I won’t force myself into his world.
All the while knowing it's a lie.
One
Mason
The shadows deepen, casting the night into gloom. It’s been raining for three weeks now, and it's starting to grate on my nerves. I pull my gaze away from the window and stare at the papers strewn across my desk. They're old, yellowed along the edges, and brittle to the touch. I swipe my palms against my suit pants before I touch them. I've been reading them for months now, but I still can't make heads or tails of the time line. A knock rings out, jolting me from my thoughts. I glance at the clock, seeing it's well past three in the morning. It's late, much later than I originally thought. I sigh before calling out for whoever it is to enter.
"Byrns, we got another problem coming in." TJ grunts, collapsing in the chair across from me.
"What is it this time?"
I don't know what the hell Victor, my uncle, was thinking when he was running things, but I've been unfucking things for almost a year now. I don’t know whether to be grateful he took over instead of Colin or pissed Victor couldn’t keep his shit together.
"Shipment is fucked. Half the guns are missing barrels. Don't know wha t's up with Rima, but better figure it out. Our contacts are getting antsy."
I study the older man. He's been running part of our territory further north for most of my life. He's in his fifties now, still trim, but gray peppers his beard. He's survived our world longer than most, through the attempted coup ten years ago all the way up to holding shit together when the Guild came through over a year ago, trying to take over Synd. Shit would have gone a lot smoother if TJ would have taken over. Instead, I have to deal with Victor's fuckups.
"Things are a little volatile over there right now."
It's the only thing I'm willing to say about it. I've heard rumors of the Guild stretching into a city four hours away, but without concrete evidence, I'm keeping my mouth shut. The last thing I need is someone else coming in and demanding I go gallivanting off to Rima to help them take down an organization I've never dealt with. I was in a coma when they tried to come in and take our people. I barely made it out alive. Shaking my head, I rid myself of the memories of the aftermath.
"Also, King is here," TJ says, pushing to his feet before making his way to the door. "I'll send him in."
The last thing I want to do is have a sit-down with Ren King at three in the morning, but he won't take no for an answer. He keeps wanting updates on what's going on with the sensors, the shipments, the regime changes. I don't have anything for him, mostly because of the paperwork on Synd’s history still strewn across my desk in haphazard piles. I gather them up as quickly as I can without damaging them. I'm planted by the window by the time the knock sounds at the door, echoing in my empty chest.
I don't bother to turn around as I call, "Come in."
"Mason fucking Byrns. Glad to see you're not laid up in bed this time." Alex King's laughing voice booms across the space and I wince. I was prepared to deal with Ren’s stoic attitude, but Alex’s boisterousness this late is too much.
"Alex. It's late. What do you want?" I grumble, turning to him. My tone doesn't faze him. He's still grinning like a loon, tilting his head when he settles in the chair TJ vacated minutes before.
"Don't be like that, Byrnsie. Had a little thing on the east side and thought I'd drop by. See how you're doing." He crosses an ankle over his knee as if he's in a three-piece suit rather than jeans and a hoodie.
"I'm fine. Not all of us have time to gallivant around the city at all hours of the night like you. And don't fucking call me Byrnsie." I glare, but that doesn't do anything either.
"Did you know you're more likely to get a computer virus from visiting religious sites than porn sites?"
"Good thing I don't go on religious sites then, huh?"
I smirk, but it falls from my face when I catch a dark shadow moving through the trees across the lawn. I squint, trying to figure out if it's someone sneaking around or just the leaves blowing in the wind. Rain lashes against the window obscuring my view. Alex chuckles behind me and I swing around, dismissing the vision as a trick of the eye before sinking into my chair.
"How is it that there's a hurricane out there and yet you're dry as a bone?"
"Suspicious much? I dropped off your car—pulled it straight into the garage. I'll need a ride home, though."
"I'm not dropping you off like you were at a sleepover. Find your own way home," I grunt.
"Rude. Scared you'll run into Sam?"
I scowl, wondering if I can get away with punching him. Someone will be on my doorstep cussing me out then, so it's probably not worth it. I really don't want to have another altercation with Shane. Sam would shoot me a disappointed look. I don’t have it in me to deal with her judgment.
My little sister, who isn’t so little anymore, keeps sending me texts, trying to get me to go to lunch. I'm not ready to hang out as if nothing has changed, and she's determined to pretend that we're back to normal. Nothing is normal anymore.
Logically, I knew she wouldn't live in this house forever, but I didn't foresee her moving in with three men who are portrayed as our rivals by the media. Whenever it crosses my mind, I conveniently forget that I’m the one who sent her shit over there mere weeks after the Guild left town. It’s where she belongs, but it was still hard.
Every meeting I attend with them, I'm reminded of how alone I am in my house. I don't care Sam is with them. They take care of her, and even if they don't say it, they love her. In fact, I couldn't ask for more for my sister. Doesn't make it any easier to deal with the loneliness seeping into my veins a little more every day.
"I'm not fucking scared of Sam. Why don't you stay out of it, and I won't mention the fact that you're fucking my sister?"
"Jealous? Would you rather I fuck you?" He waggles his eyebrows and I scowl again. “Might help if you went out and found a lady.”
“And when the hell would I have time to do that? Was that all you needed?"
He sobers and I sit back. "You know we can help you, right?"
I stare at the enforcer, expecting him to back down, but he's in the same business as me. Shane may be the head of the King family, but Alex and Ren are his brothers. Their word holds just as much weight as Shane’s.
Alex merely waits for me to confess my deepest, darkest secrets. No wonder Victor couldn't get him to break. Although, according to Alex, my uncle didn't try very hard. There was a lot of shit Victor didn't try very hard at while he was in charge. Yet here I am, still cleaning up his messes.
"I'm fine. Why don't you worry about your side of the river, and I'll take care of mine?"
He rolls his eyes. "Heard you and Helms have been meeting. Anything we need to know about?"
"No. Just the shit going on up north." I don't know why I’m keeping shit from him. He wouldn't care that I’m looking into our family’s history, but Alex is asking questions I don't have answers for yet.
"Well, if something comes up…" He pushes to his feet. "Oh, Ren wanted to know if you fixed the flashy thing."
I raise an eyebrow. "Flashy thing? What the fuck are you talking about?"
"The thing"—he claps, a grin spreading on his face—"sensor. The sensors you had tripping."
"No, but it's been happening for months now. Plus, it’s more the cameras than anything. I'm not concerned about it. Tell him to stop worrying about it.”
He snorts. "You know that won't happen."
The door snaps shut behind him and I'm left alone again. He'll go home, hang out with his family, and live happily ever after. My stomach turns at the thought. I didn't realize how much I relied on Colin when he was around. Between my second and Sammy, I thought I was fine. Now she's off living with the Kings and Colin is six feet under.
I didn't float him, sending him down the river, though I probably should have. I still don't know how shit went sideways with him. We grew up together, brothers like the Kings are. At some point, he started thinking we didn't have enough, and then he brought the Guild in, foolishly believing he could control them. I could have dealt with them had I not been shot. I could have fixed shit. When he tried to kill Sammy, though…
I couldn't let that stand. A gunshot cracks through the air, but I know it's all in my head. I've gotten good at deciphering reality from flashbacks, but sometimes it catches me off guard. I lean against the window, trying to find the shadow I saw earlier. There's nothing but the rain tracking paths across the glass. A crash echoes outside the door and I whip around.
Flinging the door open, I scan the hallway, but it's dark and quiet. Another thump from downstairs has me racing forward. No one else should be awake other than the guards. In fact, most of them are probably hiding under the awning wrapped around the house. Not many will venture out in this tempest, much less try to break into a mafia leader’s house.
Victor steps out of the front room, the door clicking shut behind him. He locks it, slipping the key in his pocket. He's still dressed in a suit, though it's rumpled and loose, much like his sallow skin that’s practically falling off his bones. I've never liked him, but I never had cause to get rid of him. Sam has been on me for years to just float him. She doesn’t understand why I keep him around.
I never confessed to her how afraid I was after the attempted coup ten years ago. I hate to admit how much Victor helped me in those early years. I was too young, too naïve, too full of myself, to run shit on my own. He kept the older guys in line long enough for me to get my feet on solid ground. The older I get, the less useful he feels. He still hasn't told me his reasons for stepping in instead of Colin, my second. Not that I'm upset about it. If Colin had pushed, I'd probably be dead, along with Sam. The Guild would have taken over the city, selling our people and leaving destruction in their wake.
