Chapter 27
A FLASH OF RED LIGHT. I groan. My head feels like it’s being plowed by a bulldozer. One minute, I was walking out of my dorm, putting my things back. The next, I was rushed from behind—something hard slammed against the side of my skull.
Pain throbs behind my left eye as I struggle to peel my eyes open. That damn red light.
The stench in the room makes my stomach twist violently—a foul mix of dirty socks, sweat, sex, and cologne. I gag. Then I vomit. It burns its way up, acid and bile hitting the floor.
“Fucking hell. She threw up again.”
David.
His voice is annoyed, disgusted. I inhale through my nose, and my stomach lurches again.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” David asks, irritated. “Is she sick? Did you hit her too hard? She might need a doctor.”
No, you piece of shit. I don’t need a doctor. I need you to fucking die.
“She’s fine,” John replies, impatient. “We didn’t give her the drugs this time.”
John.
John took me. He wasn’t supposed to. He broke the rules. But John doesn’t give a shit about rules. He’s been waiting for this moment. Watching. Plotting. He saw an opportunity, and he took it—like the sick pedophilic fuck he is.
But something isn’t right with me. I’ve felt off since Saturday. I missed my period before I could restart my contraceptive pills. I thought I was safe. I have an IUD. But maybe it failed. And I think I’m pregnant. I won’t tell them. It wouldn’t save me. I need to be strong.
I pull at my wrists. Nothing. The restraints bite into my skin, tight as ever.
I take a deep breath, swallowing nausea, trying to recognize the scents. John. David. Just the two of them.
I still have the phone Garret gave me. I didn’t leave it behind. Just in case. I was right. I can only hope Garret looks for me. If he hasn’t given up. Maybe he was waiting for me to leave. Maybe he already got what he wanted. Control.
John curses.
“What’s wrong?” David asks.
“The cameras are out.”
“Want me to check?”
John exhales sharply. “No. Stay here with her. Clean this shit up.”
The door slams. I close my eyes. This is the part David loves. The fact that I’m restrained. The power in forcing me to submit.
He grips my hair. Yanks. Pain splits my skull. The clinking of his belt buckle is unmistakable. And then, the smell. Cinnamon.
I gag.
He rubs cinnamon on the head of his cock. “Stop it and be a good little whore.”
I scream.
His hand cracks across my cheek. The burn spreads across my skin, a fire consuming me.
I turn my head away. I inhale deep. He presses closer. I bite. Hard.
The taste of copper explodes in my mouth. David screams.
His hands cup his junk. “You fucking bitch!” he snarls, slapping me again.
Stars explode behind my eyes. I spit in his face. “Fuck… you,” I manage, panting.
The door slams open. David freezes. I turn my head. A man in a plague mask stands in the doorway. Dressed in a black long robe.
David starts screaming. My eyes lock on the object in the masked man’s gloved hand. John’s head. Severed. Dark red muscle and bone hang in shredded tatters.
David chokes. “Who…are you?” His voice shakes with real fear.
The masked man steps forward, the head swinging from his grip.
David glances down, then back up. “She bit my dick,” he whimpers. “She bit… I?—”
I follow his gaze. John’s empty eyes stare at the ceiling. Blood seeps from his ruined skull. Tears leak down my face. I’m going to die. He won’t let me live. I know too much.
“Please,” David begs. “Let me go. I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”
He looks at me. “You can have her. Just let me go.”
The man in the mask shakes his head. And lifts John’s head like a prize form a hunt. An offering.
David sobs. His hands shake as he cups himself, still bleeding out. “Please…” He holds up the bottle in his hand. “It’s cinnamon.” Like it’s a fucking peace offering. “See?”
The masked man opens his fingers. John’s head thuds to the floor. It rolls like a bowling ball.
A long, gleaming knife slips from the man’s sleeve. David screams right before the blade swings down. Clean. Precise. David’s dick hits the floor. His shrieks shake the walls. He drops to his knees. Tries to grab it. The blade swings again. Vertically. The cut leaves his head in half. Red blood spray paints the walls. David collapses.
The man sheathes the knife.
I lift my chin. I know my fate. This is how I die. I exhale. “If you’re going to kill me,” I whisper, “make it quick.” He pause like he’ s listening. Waiting. “And tell Garret…” I swallow hard. My voice drops to a whisper. “That I love him.”
I close my eyes. Silence. Then—soft pressure on my wrists. The chains loosen. I wait for the pain. For darkness to drag me under on last time.
I let myself dream. Of a different life. Of Garret. Of our child.
Something cold and damp wipes my lips. The cinnamon is gone. My eyes snap open.
He’s there.
Just like in my dreams. The man with the mask. Dressed in black. With no face.
He leans close, his voice soft—so soft, I almost miss it. “I promised I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.” His glove drops to the floor as his bare hand presses against my lower belly. His touch is warm, possessive. “This is me saving you, my love.” His lips brush my ear. A whisper. A decree. “Welcome to the Order, Mrs. Nox.” My eyes widen when he lifts me.
A loud voice cuts through the heavy silence.
“The fuck, Garret? Is she okay?” Melody’s voice shakes as she rushes inside, flipping the light to a harsh white. The sudden brightness burns my eyes.
She falls to her knees beside me, her fingers trembling as they brush my face. Her eyes brim with tears, her lips parting in a silent apology. “I’m so sorry…”
She turns to the shadow in the doorway.
“Valen!” she calls out, panic lacing her voice.
A familiar figure steps forward. His voice is calm, but the edge in his tone slices through the air like a blade. “He has her, Melody. Chill.”