Chapter 22
Sierra
The sound of chain scraping metal drags me awake before I understand anything else, harsh and grating above my head, followed by the sick pull in my shoulders that turns awareness into pain so fast it steals the rest of the breath from my lungs.
For one confused second I still expect the hospital bed beneath me, the straps, the white ceiling, the drugged heaviness pinning me down.
Instead, there is nothing under my body except cold air and the violent strain of my own weight hanging from my wrists.
My eyes open to a dim room, lit only by a few industrial lamps fixed high overhead, their weak light spilling across grey brick walls that rise far above me before disappearing into shadow.
There are no windows, no ordinary furniture, no sign of daylight, and nothing around me except concrete floors, steel fixtures, and too much open space.
Terror slams into me so violently my vision smears out of focus. I try to scream, but the gag kills the sound instantly—thick fabric wedged painfully between my teeth until my jaw throbs.
I lunge upward on instinct, trying to rip my hands free, and the chain snaps tight with a vicious rattle, pain tearing through both of my arms hard enough to make my entire body jolt.
My wrists are shackled above my head, attached to a heavy hook running along a metal rail fixed into the ceiling.
The kind of machinery built to drag weight from one side of a room to another.
God. I’m hanging from it like cargo.
My bare feet scrape desperately against the floor beneath me, but the restraints keep all the pressure locked painfully in place. My body swings slightly from the movement, naked skin hit by the cold air of the room, and the realization of that lands almost as violently as the restraints.
They stripped me completely. There is nothing left between me and them, not even the thin hospital gown I woke in before. Every bruise, every mark, every inch of me is exposed under the lights.
My pulse pounds harder as I force myself to look around, and off to my right I spot a large circular tank—industrial and waist-high—made of metal with rust eating along the rim.
It is wide enough to fit a body inside with room to spare, and the surface of whatever fills it catches the weak light in dull ripples.
The room is too dark to see clearly, but it looks like water, filled nearly to the top, and the sight of it sends something cold crawling slowly down my spine.
I keep looking around until I spot them several meters away, where a black leather sofa sits in the middle of the room facing me.
Cain is stretched across one end of it with one arm along the backrest, sleeves pushed to his forearms, looking perfectly at ease, like he belongs here.
Beside him, the masked man sits lower in the leather, dressed entirely in black, his face hidden behind the balaclava except for the eyes fixed steadily on me.
Neither looks surprised that I’m awake. Neither moves to help me. They watch with the calm attention of men waiting for a show to begin.
I thrash again, harder this time, fury overpowering every other instinct as the chain jerks across the ceiling track with a harsh grind of metal. My shoulders feel like they’re being pulled apart, tears burning instantly into my eyes, but I keep fighting because doing nothing feels worse.
Cain looks me over, then exhales softly, the sound dangerously close to a laugh. “There she is,” His tone stays smooth and controlled, making my skin crawl instantly. “I was starting to think you’d sleep through the fun part.”
I choke another scream into the gag and lunge toward him as far as the chain allows. The effort only sends my body swinging helplessly in front of them like a puppet on a string.
The masked man’s laugh rolls low through the room. “Still got fight in her.” His attention drifts over me slowly, unhurried and invasive. “Looks even better like this.”
My stomach turns so sharply I nearly retch around the gag.
Cain rises from the sofa and crosses the concrete floor without a trace of urgency, his hands loose at his sides, like the sight of me hanging from the ceiling is some long-forgotten show he’s finally getting to watch again.
When he stops in front of me, I try to recoil, but there is nowhere to go except the useless sway of my own body.
“You know,” he says, tilting his head while he looks at me with that same calm expression he wore in the car, “most people spend a long time asking what they did wrong.” His eyes lift briefly to the restraints above me before settling back on mine. “You skipped straight to fear. Good.”
I shake my head violently, rage and terror blurring together while muffled sounds vibrate uselessly against the gag. Behind him, the masked man leans forward with his forearms on his knees, watching every movement I make.
“Give it time,” he says. “People always break eventually.”
Cain’s mouth curves faintly, but it’s the tank to my right that keeps dragging my attention back between breaths, the still surface of that liquid catching dim light each time I swing. I don’t know what it’s for, but something deep in my gut tells me I’m going to find out.
Cain watches me for one long second, my skin crawling under the weight of it, like he’s cataloging every reaction I fail to hide, before heading back toward the sofa with that same unnerving calm.
He reaches for the low table beside it, lifts a crystal bottle, and pours whiskey into the waiting glass as if this were any ordinary night.
The masked man rises while my attention follows Cain, and I only realize he has moved when heavy footsteps fade somewhere behind me.
For a few strained seconds all I hear is the soft clink of glass, the creak of leather as Cain settles back into his seat, and the chain above me shifting each time my body sways.
Then the footsteps return. I turn sharply toward the sound, and the moment I see what he is carrying, every muscle in my body locks.
It’s mirror nearly the size of him, tall and framed in dark metal, its base scraping across the concrete as he drags it closer.
He moves without hurry, handling it with the same ease as everything else, like this moment was planned long before I woke up here.
My pulse stutters harder as he props it upright directly in front of me.
“Originally,” he says, voice rough with satisfaction through the balaclava, “I was going to tattoo it on you.” His eyes flick slowly down my body before returning to my face. “But I came to the conclusion that blood suits your skin tone better.”
Confusion hits first, then dread. My attention drops to the reflection before I can stop it.
My thighs are smeared with dried blood, thin cuts carved across them in angry red streaks that still look brutally fresh.
Words have been cut into my flesh, each letter raw and clear beneath the smeared blood.
THIS IS is slashed across my left thigh.
FOR REED is carved into the right.
The room seems to tilt around me. Every trace of color drains from my face as I go rigid, breath catching behind the horror forcing its way up my throat.
My attention locks onto the masked man, and I start shaking my head violently, over and over, hard enough to make the chains clatter against the ceiling track.
No.
No, no, no.
He laughs softly, the sound low and ugly in the room.
“So you do remember Reed,” he says. “And here we were thinking you were just another selfish little princess who only cared about money and status.”
Cain remains quiet on the sofa, but I feel his attention on me all the same.
The masked man lifts the mirror away before I can force myself to look again and carries it to the wall, leaving it there at an angle where I can still see flashes of my own reflection if I move too much.
Then he turns back to me and steps so close I instinctively try to recoil.
“I’m going to take that gag off,” he says, gloved fingers brushing the strap behind my head.
“If you promise not to scream.” Silence stretches between us for a beat before darkness curls beneath the calmness in his tone.
“Then again, scream if you want. All you’ll do is ruin your throat.
No one can hear you, kitten, so don’t waste the effort. ”
The buckle loosens, the strap slides free from behind my head, and he drags the gag from between my teeth with a slow pull that leaves my jaw throbbing and my mouth aching, as fresh air hits skin rubbed raw beneath it.
Air tears into my lungs in uneven pulls while I cough helplessly around the ache in my throat, my jaw still trembling from being forced open for so long.
My chest heaves once more before I force the words out.
“It wasn’t my fault.” My voice comes out hoarse and thin, barely more than breath. Shame burns hotter than the cuts on my thighs as I swallow and try again. “I told Vince to stop. He wouldn’t listen.”
The change in Cain is instant. He is off the sofa before the last word fully leaves my mouth, the glass hitting the table hard enough to crack against the wood. Whatever calm he wore until now vanishes so completely it feels like watching another man step into his skin.
“But you enjoyed it.” Something vicious slips through the words as he steps closer. “You laughed the whole time.”
“I didn’t…”
“Don’t you fucking dare!” He stops directly in front of me, jaw tight, eyes lit with anger that looks ancient, like it’s been rotting inside him for years.
The chain above me shifts when I instinctively pull back, but there is nowhere to go. Behind him, the masked man lets out a low chuckle and moves to my side, close enough that I feel the heat of him against the cold room.
“You always had fun at his expense, kitten,” he says softly. “Every joke, every look, every little performance for the people around you.” His gloved hand brushes lightly over my hip, almost absentmindedly. “But that’s alright.”
I turn my head toward him, breath catching when his fingers curl around the chain above me.
“Every bully becomes prey eventually.” His voice softens into something disturbingly pleased. “You just had the bad luck of being hunted by two.”
The words settle into the room, and with them, every broken piece finally locks into place—the forest, the bridge, the chains, the carved skin, the hatred in their eyes.
None of it was random.
None of it was madness.
This was never about hurting me for pleasure.
This is… revenge.