30. Twenty-Nine
The world blurred at the edges as our car purred through Paris streets, streetlights bleeding into rivers of gold that made my head swim. The Xanax and Adderall cocktail Xavier had calibrated turned everything liquid and sharp at the same time, like watching reality through cut crystal. My heart fluttered too fast in my chest while my limbs felt weighted with lead. The perfect combination of alertness and artificial submission.
My phone buzzed in my clutch. Another message from Xavier, monitoring everything from our hotel room through his network of cameras and hijacked security feeds. I let it go unanswered. We were beyond the point where his careful analysis could help. Beyond the point where anything could help except maintaining our performance perfectly.
Across from me, Ash radiated contained violence in his suit. The darkness we had asked him to embrace had transformed him completely. When his eyes met mine in the dim car interior, I saw none of the warmth I had grown to crave. This was the collector Roche would recognize. A predator who saw beauty in blood on marble floors and perfection in chemical submission.
"Two minutes out," he said, his voice carrying that cultured cruelty that made my stomach clench. "How are you doing?"
“Peachy,” I murmured, and let my head fall back.
“Xander.” There was a sharp edge to his voice that I didn’t like.
I sighed and cracked open an eye. “I’m fine. Still in control. Just…loose.”
He turned his head, looking out the window. “Good. Keep it that way.”
I nodded, though the movement made reality slide sideways for a moment. The white silk of my dress whispered against my skin as I shifted. I’d taken just enough Xanax and Adderall to get the maximum effect without losing any real function. Well, mostly. The lights kept doing interesting things when I moved my head too fast.
The car slowed to a crawl, tires crunching on gravel. My stomach lurched as we came to a stop, the sudden stillness making my head spin. I blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the looming mansion before us. Roche's private residence was a monstrosity of gleaming white stone and glittering windows, like a palace dropped into the heart of Paris.
Ash's hand found mine. "Ready?"
I nodded, swallowing hard as the car door opened. The cool night air hit me like a slap, making me shiver in my thin dress. Ash emerged first, every movement calculated and predatory. He turned, offering his hand with a possessive smile that didn't reach his eyes.
I took it, willing my limbs to cooperate as I slid out of the car. The gravel shifted treacherously under my heels, and I stumbled slightly. Ash's arm snaked around my waist, steadying me with a grip that was sure to leave bruises.
"Careful, pet," he purred, loud enough for the approaching security to hear. "We wouldn't want you to fall and mar that pretty skin."
I giggled, the sound high and unnatural to my own ears. "Sorry, sir," I murmured, letting my body sway against his. "I'll be good."
Ash's fingers dug into my hip, a silent warning. I could feel the tension thrumming through him, barely contained beneath his polished exterior. We both knew how precarious this moment was. One wrong move and everything would unravel.
As we approached the grand entrance, I let my gaze drift unfocused, playing up the drugged submission. Two hulking security guards flanked the doors, their eyes scanning us with clinical detachment. I fought the urge to shrink away, instead leaning more heavily into Ash's side.
"Mx. Roche is expecting you, Monsieur Verity," one of the guards rumbled, his accent thick.
Ash inclined his head slightly. "Excellent."
One of the guards spoke quietly into his earpiece, then nodded. "This way, sir."
My stomach clenched at the implications, but I kept my face carefully blank. This was the role I had to play. I was just a beautiful, empty-headed toy, existing solely for others' pleasure. The thought made bile rise in my throat.
We were ushered inside, the opulence of the foyer momentarily overwhelming my drug-addled senses.
Marble floors gleamed beneath our feet, reflecting the warm glow of crystal chandeliers overhead. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and freshly cut flowers. Somewhere in the depths of the mansion, I could hear the faint strains of music, something dark and haunting.
Ash's grip on my waist tightened as we followed the guard down a long hallway lined with priceless artwork. I let my gaze wander, playing up the wide-eyed innocence of a drugged pet. Inside, my heart was hammering against my ribs. Every step brought us closer to Roche, closer to the moment when our carefully constructed facade would be put to the ultimate test.
We were led to a set of ornate double doors. The guard knocked once, then stepped aside as they swung open silently.
"Monsieur Verity," a silky voice called from within. "How delightful to see you again."
Roche stood near a floor-to-ceiling window, backlit by the twinkling Paris skyline. They were impeccably dressed in a tailored pink and green suit. Their smile was all teeth as they approached us, predatory gaze fixed on me.
I fought the instinct to recoil as Roche's eyes raked over me, instead letting my lips part in a vapid smile. Ash's hand slid possessively down my back, coming to rest at the base of my spine.
"The pleasure is mine," Ash replied smoothly.
Roche guided us further into what appeared to be a private study, though museum might have been a more accurate description. Glass cases lined the walls, each containing what looked like perfectly preserved insects mounted on velvet. The sight made my drug-addled brain flash back to Ash’s stories about his father’s butterfly collection, and I shivered.
“Your spouse looks a bit unsteady,” Roche observed. “Perhaps he should sit?”
“He’s fine,” Ash replied. His fingers dug into my hip hard enough to ground me through the chemical haze fogging my brain.
“Perhaps a drink, then?” Roche lifted a crystal decanter from a large cabinet. “I have an excellent cognac that pairs beautifully with conversation.”
Every word coming out of Roche’s mouth made me want to vomit, but I forced myself to giggle, swaying at Ash’s side. “Please, Daddy? Can I?”
Ash’s hand slid up to grip the back of my neck. “I think you’ve had quite enough relaxing substances for one evening, pet.”
I stuck my bottom lip out and huffed, but didn’t complain. Roche had to see me as the perfect obedient specimen.
Roche watched our interaction with dark eyes, assessing every twitch of muscle, every subtle shift of movement. “Such perfect control,” they mused, swirling the amber liquid in their glass. “It’s rare to find someone who truly understands the art of proper ownership.”
“Most lack the vision,” Ash replied smoothly. “They only see the surface beauty, not the potential for true perfection that must be cultivated.”
“Exactly!” Roche’s eyes flashed with excitement. “Though I must admit, your spouse here has some rather unique qualities.”
“Well, not entirely unique.” Ash’s hand slid from the back of my neck to my shoulder.
Roche’s attention sharpened. “Oh?”
“My pet here has an identical twin,” Ash continued. “Completely identical in every way. The symmetry is quite breathtaking.”
The hunger that flashed across Roche’s face made my stomach turn, but I forced myself to maintain my drug-hazed smile. My heart slammed against my ribs. What was Ash doing? We’d talked about using Xavier to reel Roche in, but I hadn’t realized he actually meant to do it.
“How fascinating.” Roche set their glass down on a nearby shelf. “It’s not often one encounters such perfect duplication in nature.”
“The only thing more beautiful than a perfect rare specimen,” Ash said coldly, “is two of the same. Though his brother isn’t quite as… compliant. He’s got a bit more fire. More sass.”
“Even better,” Roche said with a snicker. “I find the most exquisite art sometimes comes from broken things. Wouldn’t you agree?”
My heart was beating so hard in my ears I could barely think. I turned to Ash, sliding a hand around to pinch the skin on his back. “But my brother’s not here, Daddy.”
Ash squeezed back, hard enough to make me worry. “Hush, pet. The grown-ups are talking. You wouldn’t want to seem ungreatful for Mx. Roche’s attention, would you?”
“No, sir.” As long as that attention stays on me and not Xavier.
Roche circled us slowly. They reminded me of a shark, except at least sharks were cute. There wasn’t a single thing about Avery Roche that I would’ve called cute. Predatory, yes. Cute? Not even their mother would call them that.
I pressed in closer to Ash, though his usual warmth and scent didn’t bring the comfort it normally did. Something felt wrong, off. Maybe it was the drugs. The Xanax and Adderall combo made everything feel like it was constantly tilting sideways, like I was looking at everything in a funhouse mirror.
Except there was nothing fun about this.
Roche moved back into view. “Perhaps we could continue this conversation over dinner? I find conversation flows more naturally in a proper setting.”
“Dinner would be lovely,” Ash said.
I turned my head, glancing through the tall windows. Outside, darkness had fallen over Paris. Somewhere in that darkness, Xavier was watching through his hijacked security feeds, monitoring our every move. I wished he was there with me.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I mumbled into Ash’s chest.
“Now?” He injected some irritation into the word, enough that it felt real. Maybe it was. Maybe he really was going to sell me to Roche.
No, he wasn’t. Ash would never. That was the drugs talking… I hoped.
I nodded weakly.
Ash sighed. “Why is it our pets have such small bladders? Can you direct him to the nearest bathroom?”
“Ah, I can do better.” Roche snapped his fingers. “Let me get him an escort.”
“No,” I said too quickly, and I cringed inwardly as Roche stiffened. I forced myself to blush. “I mean…”
“He’s shy,” Ash said. “The bathroom stuff. Sometimes it can trigger his dysphoria if people are around. Even I don’t get to hang out in the bathroom.”
Roche’s responding hum sounded almost sympathetic. “I can understand. Very well. If you think he’s fit to make it on his own, it’s just down the hall to the right.”
“Don’t get lost, precious,” Ash said as I unattached myself from his side.
“I won’t,” I promised.
The hallway tilted and swayed as I made my way past the bathroom, letting my footsteps weave slightly in case anyone was watching. Years of training with Papa Yuri kicked in as I cataloged cameras and escape routes, though the Xanax made everything feel like it was happening underwater.
Roche's office wasn't hard to find. Double doors of rich mahogany stood partially open, warm lamplight spilling into the hallway. My heart pounded as I slipped inside, the Adderall making every sensation sharp despite the Xanax fog.
Their laptop sat on an antique desk right in the center of the office. My fingers trembled as I pulled the USB from where I had hidden it in my dress. Thirty seconds. That was all Xavier needed. Just thirty seconds of access to crack Roche's security. Then he’d have access to all of Roche’s dirty little secrets, and his client list for Nikolai. Though that wasn’t the only thing we wanted it for. Xander planned to make a copy for himself, just in case.
I inserted the device with shaking hands, watching the progress bar creep forward. Twenty-five seconds. Twenty. Fifteen.
My phone buzzed. Xavier confirming the upload had started. Ten seconds left.
"What are you doing in here?"
My blood turned to ice. Misha stood in the doorway, his designer clothes hanging loose on his too thin frame. Even through my drug haze, I could see how dilated his pupils were, how wrong his movements looked as he swayed slightly.
Five seconds. Just five more seconds.
"I was looking for the bathroom," I said, trying to match his dreamy tone.
The progress bar hit one hundred percent. Done. My phone vibrated again: Got it. Get out.
"This isn't the bathroom." Misha's voice was slurred but his eyes had focused slightly, watching me with something that might have been suspicion. Or hope. It was impossible to tell which. "You shouldn't be here. They see everything."
I pulled the USB free, tucking it away as I turned to face him fully. Up close, I could see the track marks on his arms where precise needles had turned him into Roche's perfect doll.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Misha said again, but this time when he said it, there was something else in his voice. He turned his head, glancing down the hall. “The cameras… They’ll catch you. Hurt you.”
“I got lost,” I lied.
He swayed slightly, but his eyes had focused on me with surprising clarity. “You’re not as drugged as you’re pretending to be,” he observed.
I stood up straighter and swallowed. “Please,” I whispered. “Please, don’t say anything.”
“I remember how to fake it too,” Misha said in a dreamy tone. “I tried that for a while. I thought if I pretended, if I was good and didn’t fight back, maybe…”
My heart broke at the resignation in his voice, at the way he wrapped his arms around his body and squeezed. “We’re here to help,” I promised. “We’re going to get you out. Take you somewhere safe.”
He shook his head. “Nowhere is safe. They’ll find me.”
“Not this time,” I promised.
He sighed and looked at me with a sad smile. “You should go. Before they find you in here. It’s one thing for them to find me in here. They’re used to my…wandering. But if they find you? They’ll kill you.”
“Misha,” I started, but he shook his head.
“Please go. Leave this place. Get out before they…Before Roche gets their claws in you too.”
I crossed the room, stopping in front of Misha. “I’m not leaving without you,” I promised.
Then I slipped past him, my chest tight. I was more determined than ever to save Misha now, and to make Roche pay for what they’d done to him.
I swayed slightly as I made my way back from Roche’s study, trying to keep my trembling under control. My heart was still pounding out a wild beat in my chest, and the USB drive felt like it was burning a hole in the secret pocket in my dress where it was hidden. Thirty seconds of access was all Xavier had needed. Now we just had to maintain our cover long enough to spring the trap.
Ash’s laughter echoed down the hall, the sound dark and creepy and so unlike him that I shivered. When I entered, I found him standing with Roche near the window, both of them holding crystal highball glasses of some amber liquid. Ash seemed right at home with Roche. The sight made my skin crawl.
“There you are, pet,” Ash said once he noticed me.
“Sorry,” I mumbled demurely and pressed against my side. “Everything here is so pretty. It’s hard not to get distracted.”
Roche tilted their head, studying me. “Are you feeling better? You seem a bit more…coherent than before.”
A chill ran through me, but I forced myself to put on a lazy smile. “A little.” Then I leaned forward and cupped my hand next to my mouth, speaking in a fake whisper. “Daddy gave me some special pills.”
Roche chuckled and set their glass down, moving closer. “Misha calls them his vitamins. He finds the stress of life so unbearable, and I can’t stand the idea of it marring his beautiful features. It’s so important that beautiful things be kept beautiful. Wouldn’t you agree, Ash?”
Roche’s hand slipped under my chin, tilting my face up so that my eyes met theirs. I fought the urge to recoil, instead letting my eyes flutter half closed, playing the perfect, demure, docile pet.
“Tell me,” Roche purred. “You’d do anything to please your daddy, wouldn’t you?”
I fought the urge to vomit. “Whatever he wants.”
Roche smiled and withdrew their hand. “That’s how my Misha is, too. So obedient. So lovely and willing to please. Speaking of him…Where is my Misha?”
Roche lifted a small silver bell from their desk and rang it once. The delicate chime echoed through the room, and within moments, Misha appeared in the doorway.
“You called, sir?”
“There you are, my treasure.” Roche beckoned him closer. “Come, it’s time for us to give our guests a proper tour.”
Misha glided toward us, but I caught the tiny tremor in his hands, the flash of terror in his eyes before they went vacant. He was a better actor than I’d realized. The drugs might’ve made him pliant, but they hadn’t broken him completely.
As soon as Misha was close enough, Roche closed a hand around his throat. Misha let him. “I thought we could show our guests our special art room. Where the magic happens.”
My stomach turned. His special art room? More like a torture chamber. The weight of the ceramic blade strapped to my thigh felt heavier with every passing second, but I forced myself to maintain my stupid smile. Just a few more minutes and Roche would be mine. If I gave them only a glimpse of the suffering he’d put others through, this would all be worth it.
“I’d love to see that,” Ash said, setting his drink aside.
Roche clapped their hands together. “Wonderful! Follow me!”
We followed them to a bookcase on the far side of the study where Roche stood up on their tiptoes to pull down a worn hardcover of Frankenstein . A section of the bookshelf groaned and slid aside, revealing a hidden staircase.
A blast of cold air struck my face, carrying the scent of antiseptic and something distinctly morgue-like. The place smelled like my older brother, River, when he got off work, which didn’t bode well for us. River was a mortician. Until I met Roche, I didn’t think anyone could love caring for dead bodies more than River.
I bet they’d have some interesting conversations , I thought as Ash placed a steady hand on my hip. Right up until the point where River shoved his trocar in Roche’s belly and gave him a taste of their own medicine.
As we started down the stairs leading into Roche’s private hell, a cold certainty settled in my bones. Roche thought they were leading us into a trap, but really, they were walking right into ours.
The door clicked shut behind us with the finality of a coffin lid closing. But this time, I wasn’t afraid. This time, I was the monster in the dark.