Betrayal Exposed: Unlocked Series, #2

Copyright @ 2019 Lana Kole

Betrayal Exposed

First publication: September 6, 2019

Editing by Jess Rousseau & Heather Long

Formatting by Lana Kole

Cover by Covers by Combs

All rights reserved.

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Published by Lana Kole

lanakoleauthor@gmail.com

www.lanakoleauthor.com

Content Information

For a complete list of content information pertaining to the Unlocked Series, please refer to my website.

Danielle,

At least you’re not a dumb bitch.

Contents

Previously

1.Don't Make Me Get My Scythe

2.Return to Normalcy

3.Jealousy

4.Defining Things

5.House Hunting

6.Home

7.Settled

8.Twist-ed

9.Home Sweet Not Home

10.Bright Idea

11.Persuasive

12.Dusty Storage

13.Pain in the Ass

14.Good Guys

15.Absent Apologies

16.Behind Closed Doors

17.Sky Diving

18.Indecisive

19.Thin Walls

20.Calling In Backup

21.The Next Phoebe

22.Pretty Prison

23.Final Straw

24.Decisive

25.Backup Plan

26.Exposed

27.Too Late

28.Surrender

29.Present Apologies

30.Meanwhile, Elsewhere

Afterword

Acknowledgments

Also By

About the Author

Previously

Previously, in Chaos Unlocked:

Daria found herself responsible for five of Pandora’s demons, and tried to live her life normally. That… didn’t go so well. In a letter from her mother, she begged Daria to take the demons and run far, far away, to protect herself from a cult that had existed for centuries. Daria, just now getting back on her feet after a year of rebuilding her life, decided to stay. It was her damned life, why couldn’t she live it? Finally, with a full-time job as a bartender at The Twist, and the rent finally paid, everything seemed to be going in the right direction.

Until the cult found her and killed her in cold blood, releasing the demons Misery, Truth, Betrayal, Death, and Hope from Pandora’s Jar. Misery and Truth escaped from the cult’s clutches, but the others were not as lucky.

Daria, Misery, and Truth set out to hunt their friends and rescued them from the clutches of Chaopados. During the rescue, they met an unlikely ally.

Chaos himself showed up just in the nick of time, and transported Daria and her demons to his private realm, where more truth than Daria was ready for came out of the darkness and into the light.

Death came to a realization that shook them all to their core—Daria was not only Pandora’s Jar, but she was the daughter of Chaos, the personified void from the very beginning of time. Chaos has always been locked within her, the culprit of her bad luck. Daria single-handedly destroyed the Maleston branch of Chaopados, leaving nothing but shambles, unable to control her power.

Left with nothing but more questions, she voices one that’s the most important—if Chaopados wasn’t responsible for her mother’s death, who was?

Don't Make Me Get My Scythe

Daria

She stared at the ceiling, tracing the swirling pattern of paint on it as sound drifted around her. It was like the world spun and everything moved, all except Daria. Sinking deeper into the soft bed beneath her, she sighed.

Low laughter and the muffled sound of the newscast leaked into her solitary, safe space, and she frowned. How could someone laugh at a time like this?

Though, she supposed for Pandora’s demons, the night before had been nothing compared to what they’d seen in their lifetimes.

For Daria, she couldn’t get the images and screams out of her head. Every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was the blindingly white hallway, filled with bodies both alive and dead, as they fought for a cause long forgotten. A cause they deemed worth their lives. A cause her father led them to believe mattered without interfering.

But now, most of them were dead. At least the followers in Maleston anyhow.

All thanks to Daria Locke. Daughter of Chaos.

You could put that on a shirt.

She scoffed and rolled over, facing the wall with the window, counting the slats of blinds once, twice, and even a third time before she sighed again and gave up on the notion of sleep.

It had escaped her grasp all day as she lay in bed alone, and she feared it would be the same while the moon ruled the sky instead of the sun. If only sleep would rule her mind and body so she could get just a moment’s peace.

Laughter billowed from the living room again and she frowned again, glancing over her shoulder and then glaring before stiffly rolling back over and planting the back of her left hand below her right cheek.

In some ways, she envied the demons the ease with which they brushed the events off, as if it hadn’t happened. Was that because of all they had experienced, or because they were demons and couldn’t care less what happened to a bunch of humans? To them, she supposed it didn’t matter that those dead might have had families or loved ones who waited at home for them.

But that was all that consumed her mind. More guilt.

Daria feared she’d never escape the damned emotion. First, her mother, and now, many, many nameless faces she’d had a hand in killing. Like a flash of light, she saw the hallway again, the walls crumbling and falling on men, knocking them to the ground as they grunted and cried out. Blood splashing shockingly bright against the white floor.

Before she knew it, tears welled and dripped over her nose, tracking down to drip off her temple and land on the back of her hand. With a frustrated sigh, she let them flow, her chest shaking with the force of her sobs. Her hand drifted to her chest, clawing into her skin through the shirt she wore as if to hold the emotion back, but it burst free in the form of breathless gasps, her chest tightening to the point of pain.

More laughter echoed from the living room and everything pressed down on her, the emotions she wanted to hold back twisting and sliding inside her, leaving behind a sticky residue of regret.

More laughter from her guests.

Ugh!

A small boom sounded and she jerked up, the pressure lessening in her chest, but she barely noticed over the sudden silence in the other room. Everything froze for a moment.

Then a pair of footsteps sounded down the hallway, boots, she thought. Beneath the door, she watched the shadows move, signifying the feet had stopped, and a small knock followed the interruption of light.

The knob twisted, the latch released, and the door slid open silently. A head peeked in, and Daria instantly recognized the ruffled dark hair, eyes, and contrasting pale skin. Misery moved into the room quietly and shut the door behind him.

What was that sound? she asked, when he didn’t speak at first.

The TV blew up.

Daria connected the dots—the pressure in her chest was the chaos building, and she remembered the same feeling from the hallway, right before it had exploded on a scream.

It was similar to a panic attack, but Daria had never had any luck talking herself out of those either. How was she supposed to stop the chaos from leaking out of her?

Tears welled anew, and she jerked her head to the side to hide them from Misery, pulling the covers closer as if to protect herself from discovery.

Oh, Daria. His tone was chock-full of worry and remorse, her name drifting off to a whisper as he glided across the floor to stand on the opposite side of the bed. Care if I join? he asked politely.

With a pitiful smile, she shook her head. Misery does love company.

There she is, he said in a tone that would have paired well with a smile. If he could smile.

Daria had only witnessed his lips curl a handful of times, two of those under the influence of his own power, and whatever her father had been smoking.

As his boots thumped to the floor one at a time, her mind recalled the words he’d spoken, and his voice trailed through her head like a ghost. You make me want to smile, Daria.

She doubted he realized just how much those words had affected her, but they meant more to her than he could possibly know. Maybe it was because she’d been starved of attention as a child, and then again in her relationship with Peter, but she wanted to believe Misery had truly meant those words instead of having spoken them in a moment of weakness. Wanted was the keyword there. Because in his state of mind at the time, she had no choice but to pretend he’d never said anything. If it turned out he hadn’t meant them? That would hurt worse than pretending they’d never been said at all.

Hey, do you want to talk? he inquired, concern knotting a wrinkle between his brows as he stared at her in the barely lit room.

With his question, she realized she’d been staring at him as he shucked his shoes and jeans. She shook her head, not really wanting to discuss everything on her mind just yet.

Funny how she hadn’t thought twice about sharing her body with him, but her mind was a different story.

When he settled in next to her, she sighed, nestled in his arms, and things suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

With his breath steady and his heartbeat even, she found herself almost drifting into the hands of sleep that had been out of her reach all day.

But then the door opened and she was jolted wide-awake. Truth peered in, and Misery moved back on the mattress, pulling her with him to make room in front of her. Not knowing quite what to think about his willingness to share the bed, she shoved it away on the shelf of things to look at later.

Remind me again why we chose not to stay at Chaos’s place, where he had, oh, I don’t know, like a thousand beds to sleep on?

Daria would have quipped back something of equal snark, but Misery beat her to it.

If you don’t like sleeping next to Daria, you’re welcome to the floor or to fight Death for the couch in the living room. His tone brooked no arguments.

Well, I didn’t say that, now did I? Truth mumbled, as he carefully balanced on the edge of the bed in front of her.

Her newly discovered father, Chaos, had offered them his palace or whatever it was to stay at if they so chose.

Daria had too much to think about, and needed the comfort of her own home, rundown as it may be. It might indirectly be her fault that she was slumming it in the crummy apartment building with flat carpet and cracked walls, but she was well on her way to digging herself out of the hole she’d been stuck in.

Which reminded her, she needed to call Dave and let him know she was ready to return to work. She didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, and while she hadn’t truly relaxed or given herself proper time to mourn her mother, she’d spent the day in bed and that would have to do.

A girl deserved a damn day off after saving the world and discovering her father was older than time. Literally.

Resisting the urge to sigh, she turned her back to Truth and laid her head on Misery’s chest, giving all of them more room on the bed when she threw her leg over his.

Now, with his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her ear, and both his and Truth’s warmth surrounding her, she finally felt her mind go quiet as all her worries faded to the background, a blissful darkness taking over in their place.

Waking up the next morning, in a household meant for maybe two, with five men… was not a good way to start the day.

An argument had woken her up in the first place, not the loveliest way to return to the land of the conscious and working. The voices tore through the walls, yanking her from the soft hold of sleep, until she’d had no choice but to get up and see what the commotion was all about.

Betrayal, obviously grumpy from his less-than-comfortable sleeping arrangement on the floor, was arguing with Death over the shower.

"This is Daria’s home, she should shower first. It’s courtesy since she is allowing us to sleep here."

See? Death had manners.

Oh, courtesy, is it? Such courtesy to sleep in this piece of shit hovel.

Narrowing her eyes, Daria decided she wasn’t awake enough to handle his assholery politely. Go ahead then, Judas, have at it.

Don’t fucking call me that, he growled in a low tone.

The early morning must not mesh well with her survival instincts, because she scoffed at him and waved a hand in his direction. Then don’t wake me up arguing like a little bitch about the hot water. I’m going back to bed.

And so she left them there, taking her bed-gremlin self back to sleep. Or she would have, except she fumed for a few more minutes until she realized she’d never be able to turn off her brain now.

Grumbling, she threw herself from the bed and stomped into the kitchen, the dull silver of the faucet catching her eye as she followed the scent of coffee. After a head count, she deduced Betrayal was still in the shower. With an evil grin curling her lips, she trotted over to the sink and with a single fingertip, lifted up, turning the hot water on in the kitchen.

What are you doing? Truth asked her, but she lifted her other hand to her face, a finger resting against her lips to hush him.

The thing about downtown Maleston, it wasn’t that nice. The crummy parts were all outdated, especially the building she lived in. All of the hot water directed to the shower had to reroute to the kitchen, where it steamed coming out of the faucet.

She jumped, at first, when she heard the roar coming from the bathroom, and chuckled to herself before slamming the faucet to off. With newfound energy, she happily took the mug Misery offered her and leaned against the counter when she realized all the seats were taken.

Their lips twitched in varying degrees of humor, but she just eyed them innocently.

When the water shut off only a moment later, she sipped from her mug to hide the grin on her face at all of the slamming doors.

So, I’d say this is all pretty permanent, huh? she wondered aloud.

Betrayal chose that moment to return to the main room where the rest of them congregated, but she caught Truth’s head tilted in question.

She waved her hand around at all of them to prove her point. I can’t very well live with five men in this little bitty apartment, if you could call it that.

You could live with daddy dearest—oof! Misery’s teasing question was cut off with an elbow to the stomach from Daria.

No, I’m not living with my estranged father who happens to be older than the universe itself. No thanks. I was thinking we could use some of Mom’s money to buy a house.

Daria honestly didn’t know quite how she felt about using such a large chunk of her inheritance to buy something, but it was necessary.

So, does that mean you’re not going to put us back? Death mused, sipping his coffee. How appropriate. It was a Halloween mug she’d bought on clearance one fall, reading, ‘Don’t Make Me Get My Scythe,’ with a grim reaper on the front holding his own coffee mug. Out of the corner of her eye, Betrayal stiffened at his question, but she quickly put them all at ease.

"Let’s be real, I have no idea how