Chapter 10
TEN
HAYZE
“Can you handle her?” My father peers at me from under slanted brows.
I nod. “Of course I can.” But what they’re asking me to do … Fuck. It sets turmoil spinning through my very being, way down deep. This woman has put thoughts in my head that have never resided there before. If the Collective were aware—
My eyes crash shut for a second due to the tormented and divisive nature of my thoughts.
I run a hand over my scalp, raking my fingers harshly through the strands of hair.
I can’t allow anyone to pick up on my angst. Moving quickly, I go to the old wood chest at the side of the room where certain implements are stored.
I raise the lid. Stare down. And regret everything.
Letting out the steadiest exhale I can manage, I grasp the cold steel in my hand and pivot to face the room.
My eyes flick to Delilah’s. I dread what I’ll see in the depths of her stunning blue eyes.
Hatred. Betrayal. And a thousand other things that I shouldn’t care about.
But I do. Because if I look deep within my fractured thoughts, something tells me she has a—I hesitate, the concept unfamiliar—she has a right to feel as she does about us.
It’s fucking crazy. Never once had it occurred to me we could be … in the wrong. Not before her.
She has a certain strength about her, a truth that shines from her anytime her eyes lock on mine—something that screams at me to pay attention, to question things rather than simply accept them as I’ve always done.
When I’m near her, I feel every ounce of her emotion just as surely as it were my own.
Fuck. I’m in so much trouble. Wetting my lips, I stop to await further instructions from the Collective.
This is a similar collar to the one Cross and I used to tame Twenty-Three—that’s all she was to us then—the day I was forced to claim her.
She hated it that day, but it’ll be worse now.
My gut twists uncomfortably. In all fairness, the fucking collar is the least of my worries right now.
From the corner of my eye, I study this girl, the one I know to be as fierce as the storm she’d arrived during.
Currently, though, she’s withdrawn into herself and gives the appearance of shoring herself up for whatever happens next.
It’s good that she does so. Because this isn’t fucking over. Not nearly.
My father’s lip curls wickedly. His gaze roams over her in a way that makes me want to do him damage. “Collar her. Then we’ll”—he gestures to the other members of the Collective with a lecherous wink—“proceed. After that, you can remove her. Understood?”
I nod, motioning to Cross that he should come with me.
Together, we help Delilah to stand on unsteady legs.
My eyes roam over her, coated in our cum.
I work a hard swallow and trace the path our seed takes as her body heat makes it run, leaving slick trails along her skin. In our hold, she trembles.
I don’t dare say a word to her. Nothing I could possibly say in front of the Collective would matter.
For her sake, it’s better if I keep silent.
None of that stops me from trying to catch her eye, though, wanting to explain myself as best I can without speaking.
Her lips quiver, and like a thief in the night, she wrenches her gaze from mine. She isn’t having any of it.
Cross’s expression is absolutely unreadable, but after a swift exhale, he nods. I’d love to know what he was thinking earlier, taking it upon himself to alter the course of this correction. If he hadn’t, I doubt the Collective would have done anything more.
There’s no saying whether she would have reacted better or worse if she had been made to take Cross into her mouth.
What I do know is that I’m certain what our fathers intend to do next will only make this girl hate us more.
The thought process here is simple. Make her bend.
Make her break. Make her bow. But Delilah is different.
She’s more like Eight than any of the others. And look what happened to her …
Anxiety rises within me at the thought that Delilah might not be able to refrain from pushing my father to the very edge. And if she does that, he might tame her in a way that has irreversible consequences.
Gritting my teeth, I secure the collar, and each of us takes a chain lead in hand.
“Ready,” he grits out as I continue to watch Delilah even though she refuses to look in my direction.
Footsteps sound on the hardwood behind me.
The Collective surrounds the three of us while Malakai and Arrow have returned to the seats they’d occupied earlier.
I catch movement that would have my brows raising if I weren’t attempting to clear my head and my mind so that I can focus on getting us through this.
Arrow has shifted forward, almost as if he’s going to come out of his seat.
And Malakai … he grabs and holds Arrow by the wrist just above his tightly clenched fist.
I don’t know what to make of it, but I don’t dare react, nor do I have time to think about it further because the Collective hovers, edging closer to Twenty-Three. “Look what our sons did,” Kiefer muses, letting his mirth show as his eyes roam over Delilah’s pale skin.
Henry shakes his head. “Made a mess of you, didn’t they?”
“Finneas, I think we should help clean her up.” Nolan’s brow arches as he gets close, but I’m not fooled by his calm tone or his false offer. They already know how they want this to go, how it will end.
“Agreed,” my father grunts, complete self-assurance in his voice as he trails his fingers down her stomach, dipping between her thighs.
With a satisfied smirk, he holds them up for all of us to see.
Proof of what he did to her earlier barrels into me, robbing me of breath.
I do my damnedest not to react as he brings it within inches of Delilah’s face.
His lip curls. “I’m dripping out of you,” he says, his chest jerking hard with every breath he takes.
“We’ll put every bit of seed where it belongs.
Starting with mine.” And with that, his hand disappears between her thighs.
With my jaw locked tight, I brace myself for Delilah’s reaction. She practically convulses, flinching in her attempt to escape his touch, then gasps in pain as the heavy collar abuses her neck. The rough, thrusting movements of his fingers is almost more than I can take.
“Please stop,” she whimpers. My teeth clench as I assess the Collective’s reaction to her plea. She’s just given them what they want. They feed on her fear and misery. This is about power. Control. They want her to understand that she’s at their mercy, want her to beg.
And as much as I think I’d rather see her fight, I’m terrified of what they’ll do to her if she does. Don’t, Delilah. Accept this and be done with it.
My father collects semen from her hip and breast—mine—and pushes it deep.
In those moments before he withdraws again, I want to break every single finger in the most painful way possible.
Make him hurt so bad he won’t dare ever touch her again.
Fuck. It’s all I can do not to cave his face in with my fist.
“You fail to understand one fundamental thing,” my father exhales hard through his nostrils as he eyes her.
“You have no rights here. You don’t question us.
You obey. That’s all. You do as we tell you because you won’t like what would happen otherwise.
” He smirks at the way she shakes before them, but from the gleam in their eyes, her reaction only heightens their experience.
Delilah lets loose a shuddering gasp, and her eyes go wide, locking with mine. And though she’s silent, I hear what they scream. Help!
But I can’t. No one can. We’re forced to wait while they complete the task at hand. One after another, they take turns swiping up the product of her correction and pushing it inside her body.
Darkness swirls within my brain, and I drag one steadying breath after another through my nose, but none of my efforts in calming myself are effective.
Not while their hands are on Delilah’s creamy skin.
Skin that she’s willingly allowed me to touch.
It’s all I can do to rein in the fuming monster raging inside me.
I want to let him loose on all of them. I would do so much worse to them than they could ever imagine. Will do so much worse. That … I vow.
Time crawls, and just when I think I can’t take anymore, our leaders step back, satisfied that their job is done.
“Very well,” my father grits out as his gaze licks over Delilah.
“Take this thing outside.” A pleased smile curves his lips, and he juts his chin toward me, giving Cross a nod before he and the rest of the Collective head for the door.
Over his shoulder, he barks, “You know what to do.”
“Yes sir,” Cross and I answer together.
“Mal and Arrow, you’ll be joining us down at the river. Cross and Hayze, come on down there when you’re done.”
Silence descends as we wait for them to exit the room.
Cross’s jaw remains rigid, and he says nothing more, maintaining the same emotionless visage that he’s worn since we walked into this den of horrors.
I search his eyes, my insides twisting at the idea that perhaps he’s not with me in this.
When I asked for his help last night, he agreed to go along with whatever I needed him to.
Maybe I should have been more explicit in what I was asking for.
But then there’s a second-long flicker of something that I can read. We are so fucked.
Delilah’s lips part, and her pleading eyes meet mine for a split second before she glares and tears them from me. My chest clenches because I can already tell … what has come to pass in the last half of a day has ruined anything my minx ever felt for me.