Chapter 12 – Ava Jade
AVA JADE
I f I could, I would’ve chewed my own fucking arm off by now. But with the thick leather strap tight as a noose around my neck, that proved impossible.
The equally tight straps around my wrists afforded just enough wiggle room for me to annihilate the skin there trying to get them free.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“Fuck!” I screamed into the room, the frustration and anger so intense it might take on a life form all its own and burst out of my skin.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“I swear to fucking god…” I growled into the pitch darkness, promising a thousand things worse than murder to the nothingness.
My wrists were coated in wetness I knew was my blood, and a thin material hung off my slowly withering frame.
An oversized t-shirt? I couldn’t be sure.
But I knew who it belonged to. The smell of his stench, piney with that sour tang of lime was embedded deeply into the fabric, unable to be washed out.
I’d have questioned why he put a fucking shirt on me and no pants but that became obvious upon waking, when hot urine burned its way out despite my trying to hold it in.
This fucking chair or whatever it was had a hole in the seat, big enough to let my mess pass through, drained away to a metallic sounding bucket beneath.
The worst part wasn’t that I couldn’t see. And it wasn’t that I was strapped down. The worst part was that I felt… clean.
Smelled clean.
Like cheap strawberry shampoo and Ivory soap.
I tried not to let my mind run away with all the possibilities of what else he could have done to me while I was out.
The space between my legs didn’t feel any different.
It didn’t feel sore or violated. So unless this guy had a micro dick, there was a pretty good chance he hadn’t touched me. At least not yet.
I squinted into the dark, not for the first time since I woke up, but still I couldn’t see anything.
I had no idea if this was even the same room or a different room entirely.
All I knew was that dick face had clearly grown tired of my antics and decided to strap me down.
Honestly? It was probably the smartest move on his part.
But it didn’t bode fucking well for me. I growled through a pained moan trying to claw its way up my throat when I tugged at my restraints again.
It was no use. Even if I broke both my thumbs, I wouldn’t be able to slide my hands free.
No, if I could do literally anything to break them, I would’ve already tried that.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
If I had to listen to that fucking dripping for another second I was going to go mad.
Scratch that. I was already going mad. Unless there were other people in this room, hidden under the cover of darkness, whispering faintly.
I highly doubted that.
Which left one of two possibilities, either I was finally going insane—something I always thought was likely to happen someday— or the drugs asshat kept pumping me with had fully fucked up all brain function.
Insane people don’t know they’re insane, I told myself. Right? Wasn’t that what people said?
I mean, just because people said it didn’t really mean it was true.
But it was something to…
My rambling line of thought cut off at the sound of someone coming. Of him coming.
I wished I could spit fucking acid. That would be a handy talent to have right now.
A handle turned, and I braced myself against the wooden chair. Light burst into the room and with the flick of a switch, another light, brighter than the fucking sun blazed down on me, making me recoil, bending my head to protect my burning eyes from the sting.
I blinked, trying to see through the white, my eyes screaming as they adjusted.
The out of focus shape of Drake moved toward me. His fingertips brushed the broken skin on my right wrist, and I jerked, tearing more skin to try to get away from him. He tsked me, snatching my forearm above where the strap wrapped my wrist to hold my arm steady.
He bent to get a closer look at the wound.
My stomach turned at the sight, and I swallowed back bile.
It was way worse than I thought it was. Way fucking worse. I was no stranger to the sight of gore, but something about my own gore always sort of grossed me out.
A little blood was nothing. A gunshot wound? Sure. A nice clean slice? Fuck, I enjoyed those.
But this? This mangled mess of bloodied, raw flesh, torn down to white bone on the ball of my wrist?
“I can fix this,” Drake said, finally releasing me. “Tighten the straps. Make sure you can’t move at all.”
So this would be how it continued between us. Moves and countermoves. I used my clothing against him so he took it away. I proved to him that even half numb and semi-conscious, I would fight him, so he strapped me down.
Now, he would make it so I couldn’t even move.
What next?
“Just kill me.”
He frowned, lifting to his full height.
“I’m not going to be the thing you want me to be. I’d rather die. So go ahead. Get it over with. I’ll come back and haunt your ass.”
…and watch my men get sweet, sweet retribution for my death.
“No, Angel. Everyone can be broken. Everyone . You just have to know which buttons to push.”
He leaned in close.
“And I think I might have found some of yours.”
I spat in his face and his jaw ticked, but he didn’t move, remaining hunched, staring into my eyes. Would’ve been so much fucking better if it was acid.
Maybe that was how I’d kill him. Slowly disintegrate him in a giant vat of acid. The mental image made a bubble of manic joy rise in my chest and my lips twitched.
“For instance,” Drake continued. “I’ve just taken care of the first problem standing in my way.”
My smirk faded, and I threw myself against the straps holding me down. “What the fuck did you do?”
It was his turn to grin.
My guys. My guys.
No. He couldn’t. They’d eat him alive.
He shook his head as though reading my mind. “Those vultures you call Crows are still alive. For now. But Becca met the reaper just a few hours ago.”
But… Becca…
Met the…
“ You’re lying .”
“Thought you might say that.”
Drake pulled two cell phones out of his back pocket, replacing the black one in favor of the sleek silver iPhone. He thumbed the screen for a second and flipped it to face me.
“See?” he said, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
I’d never get the image out of my mind.
Of Becca lying on her bedroom floor, her body at an odd, uncomfortable angle. Blood coating her torso. Her eyes shut.
“Oh, shit, wait a sec,” Drake said, pushing his light hair away from his forehead. “I didn’t press play.”
I couldn’t help the immediate burn of tears in my throat, or the way my chin began to quiver as Drake turned the phone back to me and I watched Becca’s bedroom door open.
Saw her face turn ashen with fear as she realized who’d just come in, frozen in her pajamas.
“Hey darlin’. Miss me?”
“Wait, Jericho, please… don’t…”
Bang!
“See,” Drake said, giving the phone a little shake. “I made it nice and quick. I did that for you. Now, I can’t say I’ll do the same for the Crows, but they have it coming.”
I couldn’t feel my face.
Couldn’t feel a damn thing.
I was looking at him through red-tinted vision, with a bottomless well of guilt in my stomach threatening to swallow me whole.
“Don’t give him the satisfaction.”
I gasped at the very real sound of Grey’s soft voice in my ear.
“Stay calm.” Corvus’ voice joined Grey’s, and I closed my eyes, forcing tears to roll down my cheeks, no longer caring if I was crazy. If it meant I got to hear their voices, even for a second, it was well worth it.
Becca.
Dead. Because of me.
I should’ve stayed away from her.
Idiot. Such a fucking idiot.
I choked back another sob and then thrashed against the restraints when Drake ran a knuckle up the trail of moisture on my cheek. Pressed the knuckle into his mouth to suck off my grief at the loss of possibly the only real friend I’d ever had.
“The whole thing gave me an idea,” Drake was saying, and I had no idea when he started talking again, but I only heard him distantly as he backed away. The sound of the gunshot that took out my best friend replayed in a morbid beat through my skull in time with my pulse.
“See?”
I dragged my burning gaze up and saw what was behind him.
A standing desk with two monitors on it, side by side.
He clicked a button on the mouse and the screens came to life.
Showing several different surveillance camera feeds from some locations I didn’t recognize… and some I did and wished I didn’t.
My bedroom at Briar Hall.
Becca’s.
The Nest.
Sanctum.
How long had he been watching us? What had he seen? And where the fuck were these cameras?
This was not the same room I was in before, I realized numbly.
It had cement walls and a cement floor like the other one did, but this one also had this desk. Outlets on the wall. A heavy but not impenetrable door in place of the solid slab of stainless steel that’d been in the other room. How big was this place?
“Pretty cool, right?” Drake was saying, continuing to speak like I actually fucking cared what he had to say. Like I wasn’t imagining a thousand ways to kill him to try to keep the tears at bay.
“This way you can watch.”
“Watch?” I found myself asking, my voice sounding unfamiliar to my own ears. Deadened. Exactly the sort of voice he wanted to hear.
I cleared my throat, lifting my chin. Refusing to give him anything.
Drake nodded, white teeth flashing. “So you can watch them all die.”