Chapter Five
Pain ripped through Vaughn, twice as intense as it should have been, as if someone had cranked his pain receptors past their limit. He bit down hard on his tongue, swallowing the scream rising in his throat, tasting copper as blood filled his mouth.
Sweat trickled down his temples as he strained against the metal shackles biting into his wrists. The dungeon’s damp chill seeped through his torn shirt, contrasting with the burning agony radiating through his body.
“I hope you’re not expecting me to beg,” Vaughn bit out through split lips. “Not really my style.”
He tried to shift away from the metal-studded whip dangling from Vex’s hand. Crimson rivulets traced his ribs, sticking cotton to flesh with each labored breath he took.
Vex’s lips curled into what might have been a smile on anyone else’s face.
In the dim light of the single torch mounted on the wall, his features seemed to absorb shadows rather than be illuminated by them.
Broad-shouldered and tall, the demon moved with an unsettling grace as he rolled up his sleeves, revealing forearms corded with muscle.
“They didn’t pay me for begging.” Vex circled him again, muscles rippling beneath a tight black shirt as he flexed his fingers. Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face as cold, flat eyes studied Vaughn. “Just pain.”
“Well, you’re certainly earning your paycheck.” Vaughn tested the shackles binding his wrists to the wall. Solid iron, probably enchanted, because that was just his shitty luck.
Vex ran a finger along the whip’s edge, his gaze never leaving Vaughn’s face. His voice remained calm, almost pleasant. “They said you had a mouth on you.”
Vaughn strained against the metal shackles, muscles trembling as he looked for any position that might ease the pressure on his shoulders.
Metal links clinked softly as they reached their limit, his arms suspended awkwardly between hanging and raised.
“My fan club list is getting pretty long these days.”
The demon smelled different from others Vaughn had encountered. Like a demon, yes, but with something else layered beneath. Something older.
“Mind sharing who they are? I’ve pissed off a lot of people over the centuries.”
“Someone who wants you to suffer.” Vex’s fist slammed into Vaughn’s ribs with calculated accuracy.
Vaughn’s breath caught somewhere between his lungs and mouth as the impact sent shockwaves through his body. Black dots swarmed his vision, making the world go dim.
All demons were born with some kind of power. It seemed Vex’s was weaponizing pain itself.
Vaughn laughed, though it sent fresh jolts of agony through his ribs. “Could have at least thrown in some ambiance. Maybe a torture playlist? A few candles?”
Without warning, Vex pressed his palm against Vaughn’s chest, igniting a supernova of pain and making it feel as if every nerve ending had been doused in acid. Vaughn couldn’t stop the scream that tore from his throat, unfiltered and guttural.
Breathing harshly, Vaughn felt his wolf snarling to get free. Just as he suspected, the shackles were enchanted with some spell that kept him from shifting.
“They mentioned your arrogance.” The demon moved behind Vaughn. “How satisfying it would be to see you broken.”
The hairs on Vaughn’s nape stood rigid as Vex’s footsteps whispered across the floor behind him. Eyes squeezed shut, Vaughn tracked the demon’s movements by sound alone, his spine instinctively trying to curl away from whatever was coming next.
His skin was suddenly too tight, shoulders hunching involuntarily to shield his spine. Cold sweat traced paths down his temples as he hung there, anticipating the inevitable whisper against his ear, the cruel words thick with intention.
Then Vex moved into his line of sight, and Vaughn sagged against the restraints, fighting to catch his breath.
He scanned the room again, looking for anything that might help him escape, needing desperately to get the fuck out of there.
The promise he’d made in the darkness of his youth mocked him now.
Never again would he be at another’s mercy.
Each clink of the chains peeled back scar tissue, exposing memories he’d buried beneath decades of careful control.
The dungeon itself offered no clues to his location. Stone walls, damp floor, iron fixtures. He could be anywhere from an actual medieval castle to some rich psychopath’s basement renovation project. No windows, no sounds from outside. Just a single wooden door and absolutely nothing within reach.
“Professional courtesy. One asshole to another. Tell me what I did.” Vaughn reeled his shit in, refusing to hand Vex a weapon to use against him.
The graves where he’d buried his past were deep for a reason.
No pissed-off demon with a vindictive-wielding shovel would excavate all his psychological wounds.
But Vaughn felt his resolve slipping. Even though he was deploying sarcasm, he was also questioning his ability to stay strong.
Vex selected a knife from a small table nearby, turning it so the blade caught the light.
Vaughn watched the knife, calculating his chances. Not good. Without knowing how long he’d been missing, he couldn’t count on the pack finding him soon. If they even knew where to look.
Vex stepped closer, his face coming into sharper focus.
“They didn’t share details. Just paid for results.”
The demon’s fingers traced an invisible pattern in the air, and suddenly Vaughn felt as if his blood was boiling in his veins.
Gritting his teeth against the fresh wave of agony, he focused on breathing. In, out. In, out. The pack would be looking for him by now.
Zeppelin wouldn’t just let Vaughn disappear.
“They were quite clear,” Vex’s said. “They want you to experience pain unlike anything you’ve felt before. They want you broken.”
The demon’s mouth thinned to a hard line, but his eyes glinted with a cruel sense of pleasure, as if each flinch from Vaughn fed something hungry inside him.
“They seemed particularly motivated.” Vex slowly spun the blade. “Personal, they said.”
“Personal, huh?” Vaughn’s mind raced through possibilities. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out who he’d recently pissed off. If it was an enemy from the past, why wait so long to exact their revenge? Maybe an ex-lover? Someone whose parking spot he’d taken?
“Payment and clear instructions. That’s it.” Steel glided softly along Vaughn’s collarbone like foreplay, a gentle touch that lasted only seconds. Then the blade sank deep, unleashing warm trails that mapped his torso.
“Your screams are truly delicious,” he whispered into Vaughn’s ear.
Pain built like a gathering storm, each wave higher than the last. Vaughn’s jaw clenched until his molars threatened to splinter under the pressure.
Then the agony retreated like a tide, leaving only phantom echoes behind.
“Impressive.” Something flickered in Vex’s eyes. “Your pain threshold is exceptional.”
Vaughn breathed through the agony. No way in hell would he let Vex see him break. He’d learned at an early age to swallow his suffering. That lesson was carved into him by unspeakable things, but that hard-won silence had saved him more times than he could count.
Though never with stakes this high.
Vex’s laugh was soft, almost appreciative. “They warned me you wouldn’t break easily. Good. I enjoy a challenge, wolf.”
The knife returned to the table as Vex selected something else. Vaughn couldn’t see what it was from his angle, but the demon’s anticipation was palpable.
I’m about to be fucked sideways.
“You know…” Vaughn managed a bloody grin. “This would go a lot faster if you just told me who hired you.”
If death was coming, he deserved one final truth: the name of whoever had unleashed this hell upon him.
“They were clear about anonymity,” Vex said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Though they did say to tell you this was for Amariana.”
The name hit Vaughn like a physical blow, emptying his lungs in one sharp exhale. “Amariana?” His voice cracked on the final syllable.
Vex’s eyes narrowed, a ghost of satisfaction flitting across his impassive features. “Ah. That means something to you.”
Vaughn’s mind reeled. Amariana. It had been nearly ten years since he’d heard that name. Ten years since he’d rescued that human girl from becoming a demon’s plaything, killing the demon in the process. A demon who, he later learned, had powerful connections.
“Someone knows how to hold a grudge,” Vaughn murmured.
“Demons have long memories.” Vex’s voice drifted from behind Vaughn.
The chains bit deeper as Vaughn’s muscles contracted, shoulder blades drawing together.
“And apparently,” the demon continued, voice sliding close enough to Vaughn’s ear to disturb the fine hairs at his nape, “so do their families.”
Something hard pressed between Vaughn’s shoulder blades. Before he could brace himself, electricity surged through him, muscles seizing as agony consumed everything. His vision whited out, a scream tearing from his throat, showing Vex exactly how to break him.
When awareness returned, Vaughn found himself sagging from the shackles, legs no longer supporting his weight. Vex stood before him, examining what looked like a modified cattle prod.
Vaughn lifted his gaze, canines bared. “You better kill me,” he snarled, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. “Because if I get free, not even your memory will survive me.”
Something heavy crashed above them, followed by shouting.
Vex froze, head tilted in concentration. Another crash, closer this time. The demon’s expression hardened.
“That’s the thing about packs,” Vaughn said, grinning despite the pain. “They tend to notice when one of theirs goes missing.”
Vex moved swiftly to the table, gathering his tools. “We’ll continue this later.”
“Don’t count on it,” Vaughn replied.
The sounds above grew louder—breaking wood, shattering glass. Someone was tearing the place apart.
Vex paused at a door Vaughn hadn’t noticed before, partially hidden in shadow. “We’ll meet again, wolf.”
The demon slipped through the door just as something heavy collided with the ceiling, sending dust raining down. Vaughn coughed, fighting to stay conscious.
Footsteps pounded overhead, moving with purpose now. A door somewhere out of sight splintered, and then familiar voices reached his ears.
“Vaughn!” Zeppelin appeared in the doorway, followed closely by Quinn and Liam.
“Took you long enough,” Vaughn said right before he passed out.
Chapter Six
In his bedroom, Jalen kicked back in his window seat, one knee pulled to his chest while the other one dangled. The mountains did their thing outside, all gold-tipped and massive. He’d bailed from the kitchen right after Quinn and Preston.
Chase might’ve pulled him out of that vampire situation. Cool. Thanks for that. Seriously. But the pills? Not up for discussion. Jalen wasn’t about to get lectured by some dude he’d just met two heartbeats ago. Whatever lecture the guy had queued up, Jalen didn’t want to hear it.
The vampire was in custody, so Jalen could bounce anytime.
He’d spent half his high wondering what they even did with vampire criminals.
Did they stick him in a regular cell? Feed him blood through a slot in the door?
Jalen had pictured vampire courtrooms with bat-shaped gavels and punishment by tanning bed.
A soft knock on his door pulled Jalen from his thoughts. He had a feeling he knew who was standing on the other side. Chase hadn’t bothered him since Jalen had left the kitchen, which was honestly longer than he’d expected.
With a sigh, he pushed himself up and crossed the room, bracing himself as he swung open the door.
Chase stood in the hallway, looking far less intimidating than he had when he’d fought the vampire. He wore a simple gray T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and faded jeans that hugged his thighs. His dark hair was slightly damp, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower.
No matter how Jalen felt, there was no denying how gorgeous the man was.
“Can we talk?” Chase asked, his voice calm.
Jalen crossed his arms but glanced away, unable to hold Chase’s gaze. “About what? The pills? Because I don’t need a lecture.”
What he needed was another life. A do-over where he had two parents who actually gave a fuck about him.
“No lecture,” Chase said, holding up his hands. “Just wanted to check on you, make sure you’re okay.”
Thrown off balance by the lack of confrontation, all Jalen could do was blink. He’d been ready for judgment, demands he explain himself, and maybe even some self-righteous indignation.
The absence of those things left him momentarily speechless.
“I’m okay,” he finally managed, even though it was a big, fat lie. Nothing in his life was okay.
Chase nodded then gestured to the hallway behind him. “Would you take a walk with me? I could use some air.”
Jalen hesitated. His high had worn off hours ago, leaving him with the familiar hollow feeling that always followed. Part of him wanted to slam the door and curl back up on the window seat. But another part—a part he didn’t fully understand—wanted to follow Chase.
“Fine,” he said, stepping into the hallway and pulling the door closed behind him. Did Chase really just want to talk or did he have other motives? So far, the guy had been nothing but nice to him, so Jalen would give him the benefit of the doubt.
But trust was a lie he’d stopped falling for years ago, like Santa Claus or family or people giving a damn about anything but themselves. He just wanted one person to prove him wrong.
So far no one had.
They walked in silence down the stairs and through the main floor of the house. Jalen caught glimpses of other pack members moving about, but no one bothered them. He felt their curious glances, though, watching as Chase led him toward the back of the house.
The afternoon sun hit Jalen’s face as they stepped onto the back porch, warm and bright enough to make him squint.
The property stretched out before them, a vast expanse of green lawn giving way to dense forest at the edges.
Mountains rose in the distance, their peaks still carrying patches of snow despite the summer heat.
“It’s beautiful here,” Jalen admitted, breathing in the clean mountain air.
“It is,” Chase agreed, leaning against the porch railing. “I’ve lived a lot of places over the years, but this... this feels like home.”
Jalen glanced at him, overwhelmed by how badly he wanted to be in Chase’s arms. He wanted just one hug that didn’t come with a price. “How old are you, anyway?”
A small smile tugged at Chase’s lips. “Two hundred and forty.”
“Jesus,” Jalen whispered, trying to wrap his head around that number. “That’s... that’s… Jesus.”
He couldn’t imagine living that long. His twenty-six years felt like a lifetime. Jalen could only imagine the life Chase had lived.
“Yeah. Makes birthdays a little awkward. Hard to fit all those candles on a cake.”
Laughter erupted from Jalen’s throat, a sound so unexpected it startled him.
They fell silent again, the soft chirping of birds and rustling of leaves filling the space between them. Jalen waited for Chase to bring up the pills, to ask questions he wasn’t ready to answer. Instead, Chase just stood there, seemingly content to share the silence.
Finally, Jalen couldn’t take it anymore. Chase stood there all zen, while Jalen waited for the inevitable lecture he knew was coming. Nobody was that chill without faking it. “Aren’t you going to ask about them?”
Chase turned, eyes reflecting the golden afternoon light. “Do you want me to?”
“No.” Jalen looked away, focusing on a bird landing on the lawn. “But most people would.”
“I’m not most people,” Chase said simply. “And I figure you’ll tell me if you want to.”
He’d spent so long bracing for judgment, for criticism, that Chase’s acceptance—or at least his willingness not to pry—felt almost disorienting.
What did that say about him that he’d rather argue than believe Chase wasn’t judging him? Somehow, the lack of criticism felt like its own kind of attack.
“They’re prescription,” Jalen found himself saying, as if he was desperate for Chase to see him in a better light. “For anxiety. Sometimes... sometimes it gets bad, and they help.”
Unfortunately they couldn’t make him forget. The pills only helped mask the pain, not the cause of it.
Chase’s expression was still free of judgment. “Makes sense.”
It never makes sense to me.
“That’s it?” Jalen asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. “No lecture about how I shouldn’t take more than prescribed?”
A small crease appeared between Chase’s brows. “Is that what you want me to say?”
“No, I just... expected one.”