Chapter 5
Chapter Five
luna
year two
H is hand feels unfamiliar, yet it’s strangely comforting as he guides me down the hall that leads to the stairs. There are two, both facing each other and on opposite sides of the house. Art pieces pass with every step. They’ve changed over the year that I’ve been locked away.
A single teacup and a black sunflower. The rest of the frames still empty.
I turn for one last look, but the music drifting through the air distracts me. Slipknot.
He twitches, and I look down at our connecting hands, noticing how his fingers wrap
around the entirety of my own. It’s a strange picture. A promise of what’s coming.
He pauses, releasing me. The absence of his touch leaving me hollow. I shove my hands back into myself to keep them warm.
When he touches me, there are no sparks. There’s no fire.
There’s just ice. The kind that glaciates everything it comes close to. So why am I cold now, without him touching me?
Now knowing that I hadn’t seen them for an entire year, I notice the changes in him. His hair is longer on the top, but maintained, and although his skin remains flawless, the edges around his features have hardened. I could never understand how he could be so beautiful, even if I never wanted to admit it.
“Have you ever killed someone?”
I jerk in response. “No. Why would I need to?”
His eyes remain on mine, and the longer they do, the more my legs weaken. They darken, his brows slightly furrowing. He reminds me of what torment would look like in human form, only he didn’t live through any. He, just like the rest of us, was raised by parents who would have died before they’d allow anything to touch us.
So why?
“What tormented you when no one was looking?” The words leave me in a
whisper, and I immediately know I messed up. I shouldn’t have said anything.
His face remains blank. “What makes you think I live with any?”
I shake my head in surprise, annoyed that I even care since I’m almost certain he’s not
going to make this journey easy for me. “Because boys like you don’t have eyes like that.”
“Like what?” His tone is flat, as if he’s only engaging because it is the normal thing to do.
I trace the line of the small scar below his eye, my fingers flex in the palm of my hand to stop myself from reaching forward and touching it.
“Like you’ve seen every bad thing in this world.”
He pauses a moment as if contemplating his next words. He is only a couple years older than me, but right now, I feel years younger. Smaller. He probably won’t answer.
With a lazy step forward, the room around us becomes smaller. I bend my head to look up at him. Does he expect me to flinch? To scream? Run? I should. He’s so close I may pass out.
The bite of his next words leave teeth marks on my neck. “What makes you think I’m not everything bad in this world?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer as he continues down the stairs. “Mouth shut, Lunatic. Or I’ll sew it closed.”
It feels like sandpaper when I swallow, but I do just that, and I follow behind him as he walks back downstairs. The room is darker than I remember from the last time I was here, and the sound of laughter and chatter has my feet skipping a step. Is he throwing a party?
Priest turns over his shoulder. “Your clumsy feet won’t do you well here, Madness. Keep up.”
Sweat forms in the palms of my hands. I slow further, until I’m back in the main lobby.
Without the cloak of darkness, it’s not the pool that steals the show. It’s the endless bed of water on the other side of the cliff.
“Luna.”
Priest and four others stand in a line near the front door. It’s open, allowing the natural daylight to enter. Each of them displaying a range of expressions from sad, lost to scared.
I look away when guilt claws up my spine.
“What’s this?” I ask Priest, gesturing to them with a flick of my eyes.
“I asked you if you’d killed someone.”
“You did ask me that, yes.”
My answer must annoy him because his eyes squint for a moment, before he’s back to
being the unreadable god that he is.
He rests against the wall, the muscles in his jaw flexing. Truly terrifying how much he
resembles his father.
“By the end of today, you will have.” He says the words as if he’s talking about the
weather.
I look back at the four people. “I don’t want to.”
He glares at me. “I don’t care.”
Needles prickle over my body, as I tiptoe closer to each one. They’re all different. Various height, weight, and level of fear.
I stop in front of the boy with blue eyes and blonde hair. The kind you expect to see
anywhere but here.
“Who are they?” The question is for Priest, but I don’t glance away from the boy.
“That doesn’t matter.”
I turn slightly over my shoulder, but not enough to be facing him. “Are they at least bad?”
Silence. With one final look at Priest, they turn and disappear into the daylight. That same cold familiarity snaps through me when his hand lands over my ribs. Even through the thick material of the dress I’m wearing, my body recognizes him as if he created it himself.
A rock forms in my throat. Every passing minute that he’s touching me feels like a
lifetime.
“You’re asking the wrong questions, Madness.” His fingers bite into my hips, forcing me against him. “Open your eyes.”
My chest rises and falls. Every breath I take is a reminder that at any moment, he could take it away from me, but I do as I’m told. Dark clouds form around the sun as the smell of damp asphalt thickens the air. Thunder rolls through the sky as the first drops of rain explode against the patio.
“We’re going to play a game.”
I keep myself focused on the trees in front of me. “I don’t like games.”
“You’ll love this one…”
I lick my lips. “You don’t know me enough to know what I like.”
“You sure about that, Madness?” His deep voice sends violent shudders through my body.
I don’t reply, the weight of my stance heavy on my feet.
“Ever played hide-and-seek?”
“Are you being serious?” I try to turn, but the hand that’s on my hip shifts lower to just above my thigh.
“You’re going to hide, and I’m going to find you, but you don’t want me to find you.”
I can’t help the thoughts that keep popping up in my head, that this is all some sort of
twisted way of teaching me. What, I don’t know.
“I’m pretty sure I’m going to want you to find me.”
His fingers dig deeper into my thigh as he spins me around and shoves me up against the wall that’s beside the door. He’s even taller than the last time. Now a whole foot than me. He cages me in by resting his hands against the wall, keeping his knee pressed against my leg. The shallow flutters of my heart grow thicker the longer we’re locked together. Shadows contour his sharp cheekbones, drawing attention to lips far too soft for a man with a face carved from stone.
“If I find you, I’ll either kill or fuck you.” The size of him shields us from any prying eyes, feeding the tension between us.
My mouth slams shut.
He pushes away, widening the door. “Run, Madness. You really don’t want me to find
you.”
When I don’t move, he turns to me. “Fine. How about this.” His hand disappears in his pocket before he pulls out a gold chain with some sort of round pendant attached. “You’ve got thirty minutes.” He pushes on a button before tossing it at me.
I catch it mid-air, my fingers opening to find the stopwatch, and judging by the ticking
vibration over my palm, I don’t have much time to examine it.
He glares out to the forest in front of him, pointedly ignoring me. “Twenty-eight
minutes.”
I snap it closed and do exactly what he says I should do.
Run.
Even when the smooth wood of the patio transforms into the driveway and the gravel gnaws at the soles of my feet, I don’t stop. With arms flinging back and forward and my dark hair flying around my shoulders in soft curls, I ignore the burn in my lungs and pick up the pace. Raindrops land on my nose and the harsh taste of metallic creeps up my throat, but I force myself through tree branches.
I stop, listening for something other than the sound of my pounding heart rattling in my chest.
A twig snaps and I spin around, the ends of my hair whipping my face. I relax when the crow that’s perched on a tree replicates the sound. Priest gave me nothing else to go on. Where am I running to?
I flip open the cover. Nineteen minutes. I have nineteen minutes to find a hiding spot.
What the hell does this even mean?
Something is pulled over my head and everything goes black.
I stop at the bottom of the steps that lead to the front door. “What was the point of that? What was your intention?”
Priest ignores me, continuing up. “You’re not ready to know if you have to ask.” He widens the door and gestures inside.
I could fight him, but he’d only enjoy it. After being placed in random parts of the forest and told to find my way out, I’m hungry, tired, and in need of a bath.
With mud caked beneath my nails and blood-stained knees, dirt falls from my clothes when I continue up the steps.
My shoulder barely brushes his chest when his hand lands on my chin. He peers down at me from above, the muscles in his face tight. Is he going to say something else? Maybe shove another sack over my head and force me to run around the place like a damn animal.
He releases my chin. “Follow me.”
I fight the urge to say “yes, rabbit,” and do as I’m told.
He continues up the stairs and down the hall. Passing the art once more, I take a closer look. Drawn by hand, angry strokes of gray and black tease a story within. One I want to get lost in.
He closes my bedroom door and stops directly outside my closet.
“What’s this?” I don’t know why I bother asking, it’s not like I can trust a single word he says. It doesn’t have to be a lie to be lied to. Sometimes, the lie is told in the silence of someone’s words. He doesn’t soften or take pity that I’m bleeding out on his floor. He doesn’t give me grace because I’m injured.
With a press of his hand against the wall, a handle-less door pops open. His shoulders stiffen. “The torment you wondered that lives inside of me.”
That same ice fills my veins when I take the first step, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
Five steps in, and darkness swallows us whole. Even without the allowance of sight, I know he’s behind me. I’d be able to feel the weight of his presence in every universe and lifetime, but it’s not because I’m scared of him. Regardless of his blatant hatred toward me, fear isn’t an emotion I’m familiar with.
My movements pause. “I can’t see.”
“What do you feel?” His heavy footsteps draw closer, and I tilt my head to the side to try to gauge the distance. Too close.
“I don’t know.” There’s no point lying. I gave up the will to lie the second I followed Bishop to the car a year ago.
“Are you scared?” It’s meant to be a question, but his monotone makes it seem like a chore.
“No,” I whisper. “No, I’m not scared.”
Silence for a moment. A long exhale leaves me that I didn’t even know I was holding.
“Have you ever been scared?” It’s as though he’s reading my mind. “What about even after what I just did to you?”
“No, I have not, and no, even after that.”
In the blanket of darkness, my stomach dips with surprise when a hand is in mine. “Let’s fix that.” He directs me further into the room by his finger. I hate the way my body seems to respond faster than my brain.
Thanks to a weak spray of light, obsidian walls cave in around the small room, where a wingback chair sits at the center. Beside it, a small table serves as a bar cart, holding a single bottle of whiskey.
His hand slips from mine and that same hollowness returns as he swipes the bottle from the table and lowers onto the chair, keeping his eyes fixed on me.
Carpet softens my steps when I move forward, making the cuts on my soles bearable. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable, and the longer I stand here, the more I relax.
He traces his upper lip with his finger. “Draw me a picture.”
I pause. “What?”
He keeps the same expression trained on me, gesturing to his side. “Draw me a picture. Anything.”
“I—” I look between him and the small box of chalk.
His head tilts to the side a little. Nothing has made a lot of sense since being here, so challenging him over drawing a picture seems ridiculous.
I pluck out the first one I see and straighten. Like the river of life, the longer I’m in it, the darker it gets. Chalk powders against the wall when I press the tip against it.
“Please…” I stiffen, the intrusion of her whimper holding me in place.
“Focus on what you’re doing, Madness,” he warns with a lazy drawl.
The air tightens around my throat. “What am I supposed to draw?” It’s probably not a good time to tell him I’m not an artist. I can barely draw a stick man.
The leather of his chair complains when he shifts. “Whatever you want.”
“You said you loved me…” The girl behind me sobs.
“Oh, but I do.” I’ve never heard him be this soft. “Spread your legs.”
My hand stops as curiosity burns through my body like live wire. I turn to the side, enough to see what’s happening.
“Like this?” Sugar drips from her demure tone. Gone is the girl who was begging for her life. She widens her legs as the chandelier above exposes the pale color of her naked body sprawled out at his feet.
Out of instinct, my eyes fly to his. Relaxed in his throne and wearing nothing but unbuckled jeans and Jordans, he holds my stare. “Yes. Like that.” He finally looks to the girl.
Long brown hair falls around curves you’d find on models, and judging by the swell of her side-boob, it’s clear she likes a visit with the good surgeon.
She must be older. There’s no way she’s anywhere near my or Priest’s age.
“Touch yourself.”
His words knock the air out of my lungs.
She smirks, turning over her shoulder a little, just enough for me to catch it. I don’t know what she’s smiling at. I’m not sure I’d want Priest’s attention if this is the kind he gives the girls he likes.
French-manicured fingers find the spot between her legs, and I force myself back to my picture. I don’t want to explore the reasons why he’s making her do this with me in the room. I’m not sure I want to know. She moans softly, and before I get my head stuck in what the hell is happening, I start scribbling in a flurry of white and black until chalk shavings stain my hands.
I step back and examine the mess. A simple heart with jagged edges through the middle. I should have told him that I couldn’t draw. It’s missing something—probably a far better artist.
I continue anyway. I thought you loved me.
“Priest,” her desperation rings out behind me. “I need you. Please. I want you.”
I’d laugh if I didn’t find it so sad. The recklessness of her desperation landed her at the Devil’s feet when I’m sure she wanted his lap.
Frost forms down my spine when I catch him staring, and the chalk slips from my fingers as panic floods through me. Why is he watching me and not her? I can’t break away from him to pick it up, afraid that if I do, he’ll use that time to kill me.
Or worse. He won’t, and the past year has merely been an introduction to the hell I am about to endure.
He shifts forward to rest his forearms on his thighs, forcing the muscles in his shoulders to flex. “How long have we been dating, Cassie?”
Cassie’s eyes sparkle, but her hips continue to thrust in circles to chase the rhythm of her fingers. “Four months.”
He focuses on me. “And how did we meet, Cassie?”
“At a bar. What are you doing? I thought you said this was going to be fun in here!”
Confusion rattles me backward, but it’s short-lived when he angles himself forward, his knuckles browsing over her cheek. “You wanna come?”
“Yes—” Her lips part as she continues to work herself up. Her knees widen as her breath quickens, sweat drowning her chest as it rises and falls.
He brushes his lips against hers, and my heart skips a beat. I shouldn’t be watching. I should turn around and pretend to finish my drawing.
“Let go.”
In a slew of moans, her body becomes taut, once again desperate to chase the release.
Seconds of silence pass. Damn. Maybe I should do it myself if she’s struggling so hard. I’m going to come before her at this point.
Bending down to grab the fallen chalk, I roll my eyes on my way back up. “Next time?—”
The body I not so long ago admired for its curves separates like a puzzle in three ways. Her head hits the carpet with a thud as the rest of her body follows.
Dark shadows form around me as Priest’s heavy footsteps carry him closer. “What, Madness? What are you thinking?”
Fear prickles through me for the first time. “I’m thinking she shouldn’t have followed the white rabbit.”
Is what’s standing in front of me real?
“You’re not saying anything…” River’s shoulders fall when she sighs, her foot tapping against the carpet.
“Well, because I don’t know if I should?”
“Agh! You hate it!” She falls onto the chair at the end of my bed, opening her phone.
I stare back at myself in the mirror. “It’s not that I hate it, because I appreciate what you did—” I play with the fried ends of my hair, biting my inner cheek to stop myself from laughing. “It’s that I’m yellow!” I can’t hold back any longer, swiping the tears falling down my cheeks. It’s not until I catch her in the mirror trying not to join, that I realize she’s the only person I know to do something like this. I never had a lot of friends growing up.
“Honey blonde! It’s practically almost there, and anyway!” She places her hands on my shoulders from behind. “We have plans tonight.” I tense when she rushes around the room, disappearing into the closet.
“Um, not to be that person, but he has kept me locked in this room for a year, with the exception of whatever last night was. I don’t think he’s going to let me out of the hous—” My mouth closes when the door opens, and he’s standing there. “Never mind.”
Priest follows my line of sight, landing on River as she’s leaving the closet holding a dress in each hand.
Her arms fall to her sides. “It’s my fault. I dyed her hair…”
I thought you loved me.
His eyes move between us, before settling on me. “Told you to stay brunette.”
“More of a reason for her to not,” River sings, dancing toward me with a teasing smirk. “We just have to decide which dress.”
Priest being in the room replaces the stress of my new hair. I never thought much about him when we were young. All I decided was that he was a bully. Someone who hated me for whatever reason, but as time went on, that never changed, so I kept my distance.
Until now. Maybe that’s why I’m fascinated, because I’m only really getting to know him.
“The red one.”
His words stop me.
River pauses, her hands mid-air. She glances over her shoulder for a second before returning. “Oh, is that right?”
I don’t know what’s wrong with either of them, but I take both dresses and place them onto my bed.
The white dress is long and loose, where the red one pinches in at the waist before spilling out around the upper thighs. It’s cute. Damnit. He’s right, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of saying the words out loud.
River picks up the red dress. “You’re right.”
Priest stares at me from the other side of the room. Gray sweat shorts hang from his waist, his chest covered by a white T. Even in lounging clothes, he looks good. Even watching him kill his girlfriend and others mid-orgasm? Shit.
I clear my throat. “Ah, are you good with me going with her?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. Why?” The way he angles his head shouldn’t make my stomach twist. It’s the eyes. Definitely his eyes.
And jawline.
And—what the hell is wrong with me… Killer. Bully. Tried to kill you multiple times. Hates you. Murderer. Kidnapper. Asshole.
River’s laugh cuts the tension in the air. “Maybe because you locked her up for a year. She didn’t expect it, Priest. She wasn’t raised in this world.” She rolls her eyes, shoving the red dress into my chest and disappearing back into the closet.
“Be home before six, don’t drink any alcohol—” The closer he gets, the less I’m able to breathe. When he’s an inch away, I tilt my head to look up at him in time for him to catch a piece of my hair that traces the side of my face. “—and if you bat these pretty eyes at anyone?” His lips brush my earlobe. “I’ll tear them out.”
River returns, only this time she’s quiet.
Priest flashes a smirk. “Happy birthday, Madness.”
I don’t even get to answer him before the door is closed, and River is shuffling me into the dress. I tighten up the buttons, brush out my hair, and swipe my lips with balm before River drags me out of the room. Being the first time I’ve ventured deep into the house, I try not to expose my excitement by paying closer attention as I follow her through.
Back on the first floor, we follow a long hallway until we arrive at a pair of black doors. River presses her thumb to a small screen on the wall before they open and we step inside.
“An elevator. Of course,” I joke under my breath.
River taps on her phone, lifting her hand to snap a photo of us. “Mmhmm. Only to get to the garage.”
She’s scanning over the three photos we took before the doors open onto a white basement where hundreds of parked cars are spread out. I couldn’t name the cars even if I tried.
River snatches a set of keys off a hook and points the remote at a shiny black one in the far-right corner.
“We’re so taking Uncle B’s Maserati.”
The headlights flicker, but she stops when we’re a small distance away. She looks me up and down before tossing the keys into my chest. I catch them just in time.
“You should drive.” She grins.
“Ah…” I shuffle nervously. “I don’t know how…”
“What!” Her mouth falls open before closing. “Damn. That’s not okay—no. Get in the car.”
My hand tightens around the keys. Did she not just hear what I said? “I can’t! I don’t know how!”
“Get in the car, Luna,” Priest growls, brushing past me.
I tense, heat rushing to my cheeks. “You’re coming?”
His arm disappears through the side of a different car, before reemerging with a cap. He flips it backward and opens the door to Bishop’s Maserati. An expensive car, I’m guessing.
“What, you think I’d let you leave without me?” His face remains hard and expressionless.
Neither of them wait for me to answer before disappearing into the satin black sports car.
“Shit. Okay.” I rush to the driver’s side and close the door. “I’m not kidding. I truly don’t know how to drive.”
Priest’s laugh dies in his throat as he massages his chin. “Yeah…we can’t have that.”
I don’t know why it matters to him whether I can drive or not. I straighten, resting my hands on the wheel. “I guess this isn’t a good time to ask how to turn it on?”
No one else laughs, so I search around the steering wheel until a button that says Start glares back at me.
“Foot on the brake before you push.” With his clear instructions, I press the base of my foot against the brake, pushing the button. The engine growls to life and I release a small exhale.
“Okay. But wait, I don’t even know where we are!” I turn to them both, but dark eyes hold me captive, matching the shadows that contour his face.
His lip twitches. “Riverside.”
I stop a moment. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “Riverside? But…won’t I get spotted?”
The muscles in his jaw tense. “We’re not hiding you. Those who know you know you’re alive.”
I look between the gear stick and the lights on the dash. “P is for Park, D is for Drive, R is reverse, N is Neutral. You don’t use the others.” I’m still reciting the letters when his next words come out strained. “Put the car in Drive, Madness.”
“Oh.” I squeeze the gear, but it doesn’t release.
“Foot. On. The. Brake.” He doesn’t even hide his annoyance.
“Geez, okay.” I press on the brake again and the gear stick slips into Drive.
River bursts out laughing from the back seat.
I turn in time to catch her taking a photo. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You love me. That’s why you’re happy I finally came.”
I am happy she’s here, but I’m worried about what she’s been doing as well, or why she hasn’t mentioned it.
“Tap the accelerator. Not too much, or you’re gonna owe me a new GTR.” He gestures to the car in front of us, his eyes darkening. “Slow.”
I’m deluded. He kills people. You do not find your tormentor attractive. But…
“Okay.” Blood roars behind my ears, drowning me in a pool of haze. When his eyes fall to my lips, everything dissolves around us, including time.
He tilts his head to the side and rests back, snapping us back to reality. “Drive. We have to be back by twelve.”
“Agh!” River whines from the back, the light on her phone illuminating her face in the rearview mirror. “Can’t slaughter wait?”
I do as I’m told and the car rolls forward. “I did it!”
“No.” Priest gazes out the window. “Don’t get too excited, Madness. I haven’t taught you to drift yet.”