Chapter Thirty #2
“Would you two get a fucking room?” Ryan snaps, stomping past us. “Better yet, book a damn suite and toss a GoPro in the corner for the rest of us to watch.”
I snort. “Why not just give me the corner room with the thin walls? I like being heard. Watched. Worshipped.”
Ryan gags. “You’re such a damn whore.”
“Yeah, but I’m their whore.” My grin is wicked.
Laughter spills around us, slicing through the tension that’s been strangling the night. For a second, I forget about the masked man. The chase. The violation. For a second, I feel like I belong again.
Until Wyck’s voice snaps like a whip.
“Enough.” His command silences everything. “Shut your mouths so I can fucking speak.”
Ryan immediately goes quiet. “Sorry,” she murmurs.
Wyck doesn’t respond. He just grabs my hand like it’s his by blood and drags me away from Wells, from everyone. Possessive. Untouchable. Mine.
“This will be our new home.”
We stop at the foot of something massive. Something biblical. A building so tall it scrapes the belly of heaven, stretching upward with cathedral arches and broken-glass windows like it once knew saints, and watched them burn.
“What was this place?” I ask, breath catching.
Wyck doesn’t even flinch. “An asylum.”
Of course it fucking was.
“Why are we here?”
“I told you. This is where we’re moving.”
My mouth falls open. “What the hell is wrong with the home you have ?”
“There’s more of us now. More Devils. More secrets. More enemies. We needed a place that could hold all of it.” He doesn’t look at me when he speaks, just stares straight ahead. “Even if we leave, this is where we’ll return. No matter what.”
I nod slowly, heart sinking with some unspoken understanding. “But how many of you actually come back once you leave?”
His silence says everything.
Then he speaks, and it’s not Wyck the boy, or Wyck the lover. It’s the Devil.
“Our fathers built this secret society on lies. On manipulation. On control. And we’ve been forced to inherit their rot.
But we’re rewriting that legacy, our way .
We’ve already begun. The trials still stand.
The punishments. The blood. But the executions?
Those are reserved for traitors. Those who lie, manipulate, betray us from within. Everyone else… earns their scars.”
He steps toward the building, running his hand across the massive golden front door.
My eyes are drawn to it.
The door is old. Heavy. Ancient. It pulses with meaning I don’t understand, its carvings laced with symbols that feel like they’re watching me.
It’s beautiful. But not in a safe way.
It’s the kind of beautiful that gets people killed.
I trail my hand along the carved ridges. “Where did you find this thing?”
“China,” he says without hesitation.
“Who buys a cursed-ass asylum door from China and ships it across the world?”
“You ask too many questions.” His voice is low now, hushed and deliberate as he turns toward me. “The real question is, are you moving in with us?”
The air leaves my lungs.
This, this is what it means to be theirs . To belong. To be folded into the madness that started long before I remembered my name or the monsters that whispered it in the dark.
I look at them, Wyck, Dash, Wells, Karter, Onyx. The Devils.
Pieces of my past. Anchors of my future. I don’t know how or why we’re connected. But I feel it in my bones.
This isn’t over.
It’s just beginning.
And I’m not walking this path alone.
“I’m in.”
I’ve been resisting the truth for days now, fighting the urge to claim what’s already mine.
Fighting the pull of them.
Of us .
But the war inside me is done. I’ve already lost… or maybe I’ve finally won. Either way, I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to shout it from the fucking rooftops:
I belong to them. All five.
And I’d rather burn alive with the Devils of Cliffside than breathe another second without them.
So when Wyck looks at me like I might vanish, like he’s bracing for the part where I say I can’t handle it, I smirk and toss his fear right back at him.
“After everything I’ve survived… if you think you’re getting rid of me that easy, think again.”
My voice is calm, but the fire behind it is volcanic. My smile doesn’t quite reach my lips, but it doesn’t have to, not when every word I speak is a blade aimed at the voice in my head still whispering doubts.
Fuck you, buddy. This is my life. And what I want... is them.
Wyck’s expression shifts, something dark and soft cutting through his usual mask. “We would never, could never, get rid of you.” He looks around, and one by one, the others nod. Silent. Dead serious.
“All for one… or it’s none of us.”
“Then let’s go inside,” I say, chin tilted, eyes defiant. “Let’s see the place we’re going to destroy and rebuild together.”
“Wait!” Fred’s voice cuts through the stillness. We all turn. She’s standing awkwardly, motioning between herself and Ryan. “I don’t get it. Why are we here?”
I blink at her, amused. “Girl, you really think I’m walking into the mouth of madness without my crew?” I glance back at the guys, then to her. “Where I go, you go. That includes this.”
They don’t argue. They never do when I’ve already made up my mind.
“Now that we’ve got that cleared up…” I look to Wyck, smirking. “Lead the way, my Devil?”
Wyck just nods, pushing open the massive asylum doors like a king walking back into his ruined kingdom.
“That was so badass,” Fred whispers behind me. “Like, mic drop moment. None of them even blinked.”
I’m about to tease her when something flickers in my periphery, silver glinting under the porch light.
“Wells,” I hiss. “Put the fucking knife away.”
Fred gasps. “Jesus Christ, that wasn’t even directed at you! Chill!”
She presses into my side like I’m a human shield. “Athens, please call off your psychopath.”
“I’ll show you a fucking guard dog,” Wells mutters before lunging after her with a grin carved in sin.
Fred shrieks. “Shit! I was joking , stop!”
They chase each other around the front steps like rabid children raised by wolves, and honestly, it’s the most peace I’ve felt in days.
“You two!” I shout, voice sharp but laced with laughter. “Cut it out and get your asses inside.”
“Coming!” they yell in unison, like goddamn delinquents.
The tour is nothing short of breathtaking in the most unholy way.
Stone halls that echo secrets. Shadows that cling to the corners. Rooms dressed in velvet and dust, like ghosts still dance here in their finest sins.
This place wasn’t just remodeled , it was reborn.
We explored the entire damned asylum, from the blood-red study to the underground war room. Every inch of it felt like it belonged to us. Like it had been waiting.
By the time we hit the lounge, someone throws on Netflix, some dark thriller, something about monsters in plain sight.
But I don’t make it five minutes in.
I pass out, curled between two of them, breath steady for the first time in what feels like centuries.
Because for the first time, I don’t care what’s coming for us.
Let it come.
We have walls, weapons… and each other.
And the Devils always watch the door.