CHAPTER TWENTY
1992
“The camera you’ve picked should arrive tomorrow. Make sure to test it before the shoot.”
“Yes, sir.” I took a sip of wine, a pleasant tipsiness nesting behind my eyes. These days, it took a lot more alcohol to affect me, but The Director had luckily grown tolerant of my need to unwind. He still made his disapproval known, but it was more for show.
I took a bite of tofu, fried just right with soy sauce. Even after six months of captivity, I didn’t know who prepared the food. My world had become a bubble of familiar activities and responsibilities, all revolving around The Director’s needs. Whenever I found myself resenting my existence and dwelling in self-pity, I only needed to watch the other captives and their daily hell. Bo liked to say I walked around with invisible armor, but that didn’t stop him from finding ways to pierce it.
The Director took a bite of his steak and glanced at my plate. “You need protein.”
“Tofu’s protein.” I cut a juicy piece with my fork and offered it to him. “Try.”
He eyed the tofu as if I were holding a dirty sock, but he still ate it from my fork. We were sitting at the dining room table, ridiculously large for two people. Classical music played in the background.
“I suppose it’s fine,” The Director said once he finished chewing. “If you don’t care much for flavor.”
“I won’t tell if you want more.”
“Don’t push it.”
I snickered into my wine. “Do you have time for chess later?” I still wasn’t a fan of the game, but it usually went on for a long time, keeping me away from Bo.
“I can find the time, and remind me to give you the new poetry books that Eliot has sent for you.”
“Hmm, thanks.” I hated how he remained a presence in my life and how I had to bite my tongue about him.
“What a heartwarming sight.”
I froze mid-bite. The Director tensed, his lips twitching.
Mr. White walked into the dining room, wearing an immaculate dark suit. “I hope I’m not interrupting. This looks romantic.”
“Jonah and I were just talking about work,” The Director said and shook Mr. White’s hand.
I swallowed the food in my mouth, glancing at the burning candle and the two glasses of wine. It did look romantic.
Mr. White took the seat next to me. “Jonah, you look as lovely as ever.”
I forced myself to meet his eyes. Many things scared me, with Mr. White being high on the list. I’d only met him a handful of times, and he invited me to the room with the sky each time. He always made me take the drug that pulled the truth from the depths of my soul, and it always ended the same way—with needles. He would either use them on me or watch me use them on myself.
“What brings you over?” The Director asked, his posture stiffer than usual.
“I was just in the neighborhood.” He chuckled. “You know how much I enjoy my visits. I own three houses, but it’s here that I feel the most… myself.” He plucked a piece of tofu from my plate and held it in front of my mouth.
I drew a breath and leaned down to grab the tofu with my teeth.
“Any update on our troublemaker?” Mr. White asked, picking up another piece. “Is he still playing hard to get?”
I leaned forward again to eat what he held between his fingers, my face growing warm.
“Nathan isn’t showing progress,” The Director said flatly.
Ever since Nathan had attacked me when I tried to speak with him, I pretended he didn’t exist. Despite my work at the dungeon, I had an unwritten understanding with The Director about being excused from Nathan’s failed shoots.
“It might be time to move him somewhere else,” The Director said. “I’ve done what I could.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. You know we can’t just ship people away like we used to with this being our only estate. No, this needs to be handled here, unless we decide that death is the only other option. Am I right, Jonah?”
Death? I didn’t want my opinion to carry any weight in making such a decision.
When the silence grew awkward, I met Mr. White’s gaze. He rarely blinked, making me more aware of my own blinking. The candlelight illuminated the left side of his dark face. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”
“The question was whether you think that Nathan should be given more chances to improve, or whether killing him is the logical course of action.”
I crossed my arms, feeling queasy. “I don’t think anyone should be killed.”
“Even after how he treated you? I was told he cracked two of your ribs.”
“Three, and it’s not about me. But I do agree that we should find a different solution. We’ve tried to make him see sense, but he doesn’t listen.”
Mr. White arched an eyebrow. “ We? ”
I clamped my lips shut and held my arms tighter around me.
“You’ve done well with our Jonah,” Mr. White said. “However, I have been hearing from several of our members that they miss his videos. Some even thought he was no longer with us.”
I nervously glanced at The Director, who said, “I wasn’t aware of such concerns.” He gave a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be sure to amend that.”
Mr. White stroked my cheek. “I, too, hate the thought of seeing precious Jonah hurt, but we all have our roles to play, don’t we?”
I nodded numbly. “Yes, sir.”
“Would you mind calling Nathan over?” Mr. White asked The Director. “I’d like to have a word with our stubborn friend.”
The Director cleared his throat, and one of the guards approached. “Please bring Nathan over, Anton.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How is your dear brother?” Mr. White asked, still gently stroking my cheek. I knew his acts weren’t sexual; he had plenty of opportunities to sleep with me. This was about making me uncomfortable so he could feed on my reactions.
“Eliot is busy with his club.”
“You see him more often than before, I’m hearing.”
Someone had been keeping him updated, and my gut told me it was Bo.
“He might be visiting a bit more often,” The Director said, a touch of irritation in his voice. “He’s always welcome.”
“Of course. Eliot is dear to all of us. You both are. Have you read any interesting books lately, Jonah?”
“I’ve been reading a bit of Benjamin Jonson. He was—”
“I know who he was. Your taste in literature is impressive. Have you read—?”
He stopped talking at the sound of approaching footsteps. Anton half-led, half-dragged naked Nathan into the dining room. Unsurprisingly, he was covered in bruises, his right eye almost swollen shut. He’d lost even more weight since I last saw him. Despite how he’d almost killed me, a pang of remorse still hit me at the dreadful state of him.
Anton led Nathan to the side of the table, close enough for me to smell his stench. He met my gaze, his smile crooked with half his front teeth broken. There was a spark of madness in his eyes that made me wish for a protective glass between us. Don’t they see how crazy he’s become?
“Hi, little traitor. Enjoying your fancy dinner?”
I looked away, biting the inside of my cheek.
“Nathan, lovely to see you again,” Mr. White said calmly.
“You’re the asshole who talks like you’re a lord or something. You’re here to tell me how I should improve my ways and be more like him? ”
Mr. White glanced at me. “I doubt you could ever reach Jonah’s level. He’s adaptive and intelligent, while you are not. But your jealousy of him is understandable.”
“Jealousy? I’m not fucking j—”
Anton smacked the back of his head to shut him up.
Mr. White cleared his throat. “We were just having an interesting discussion about what to do with you.”
“How lovely.” Nathan glared at me. “And what were your conclusions?”
“That we ought to find a different way of dealing with you, or simply cut our losses and end your life.”
Nathan’s eyes grew wide. For months, he had been claiming he’d rather die than submit, but I knew it was crap—he could have killed himself by now.
“All of you are sick,” Nathan hissed. “I don’t even know who you are. Just let me go, and—”
“Enough!” The Director slammed his fist on the table. “We’ve been over this dozens of times, and this is your last chance. Get your shit together, or you’re done. I can’t be any clearer than that.”
Nathan’s chest heaved, his nostrils flaring. A bad feeling grew in the pit of my stomach as the madness in his eyes took over. He growled and smashed his elbow into Anton’s chin, causing him to stumble back with a cry of pain. I caught Nathan’s eyes zeroing in on the steak knife right before he snatched it. As he raised it toward The Director’s face, I jumped to my feet and grabbed his hand, using all my strength to pin it to the table.
My face exploded in pain when he hit me in the mouth. I shook my head and tightened my grip, positive he was about to stab me. The Director sent his fist into Nathan’s head, causing him to let go of the knife. A second later, Anton grabbed him from behind and slammed him onto the floor.
I slumped into my chair, my torn lips trickling blood down my chin and onto my lap.
“Are you okay?” The Director asked, his hand on my shoulder.
“I’m…” Trying to speak made me swallow blood. I spat on the floor, trying not to vomit.
“Oh my,” Mr. White said, “what an interesting turn of events. Go clean yourself, my dear boy. You’ve been very brave.”
“Traitor!” Nathan shouted from the floor. “You’re worse than all of them!”
I forced my limbs to move and stumbled my way out of there.
*
“Heard you were a hero,” Bo said and shut the door behind him.
“You’ve heard wrong.” I was lying in bed, hugging my pillow. It had been a couple of hours since the fiasco with Nathan, but I couldn’t fall asleep, and not just because of the lingering pain in my mouth.
Bo sat on the bed. “Let me see.” He held my chin and tilted my head. “You’re still pretty if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.”
He let go and glanced at the needles on the nightstand. They hadn’t been much help, even though I’d dug them deeper than usual. “I knew you had a crush on The Director, but saving his life? That’s a serious relationship right there.”
I exhaled, not willing to bite.
“They’re talking about you now, some interesting things.”
I looked at him. “What were they saying?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t get most of it, but Mr. White seemed to be thinking of something, and it got The Director agitated.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Anyway, what are you so upset about? You hate Nathan.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
He leaned next to my ear, making me tense. “I understand just fine, Prey. You’ve officially switched sides, no better than any of us.”
My eyes stung at the weight of his truth. “Leave me alone.”
“Say it.” He licked my cheek, raising goosebumps down my back. “Say that you’re no better than me, that you’re just as rotten. Hell, I think you might be worse than I ever was.”
My rage began to pulse, turning my vision red. “You’re a loser and a rapist. No matter what I do, I can never be worse than you . Now, fuck off.”
He forced me onto my back. I tried to shove him away, but he grabbed my hands above my head and shifted on top of me.
“You think you can tell me what to do?”
“Get off!”
He squeezed my wrists, the pain piercing through my bones. “Oh, I’m about to get off, alright.” He rocked his hips against mine. “You still think you’re special, Prey? A good person in a bad place? Can’t you see that’s crap?”
“Get off!”
He rocked his hips faster, his weight making it hard to breathe. His messy beard filled my vision, the bottom of it rubbing against my chin.
“You and I are gonna have some fun.” He twisted my wrists, the pain so fierce I feared they might snap. “Are you gonna play hard to get?”
Through the pain, I hissed, “No!”
He chuckled and eased his grip, moving his hands to rest on my chest as he sat on my stomach. “I heard you’ve bled a lot.” His eyes focused on my lips. “Sorry I’ve missed that.” He winked. “Let’s see if I can fuck you hard enough to bleed.”
My rage pulsed stronger, overpowering my fear and clouding my thoughts. A predatory urge rushed through my body, slipping into my veins and reaching my heart. “You love blood so much?” I reached for a needle on the nightstand. Bo caught my movement and began to lean back, but I was quicker.
His eyes grew wide, making it easier to slide the needle into his left eye. I gripped his beard with my other hand to keep him in place, jerking the needle inside his eye socket. For the second time today, blood filled my mouth, mixed with whatever else leaked out of Bo’s ruined eye. His screams must have echoed throughout the estate, but I wanted all the fuckers to hear.
He managed to get free of my grip and crashed to the floor, leaving some of his beard in my fist. He squirmed, holding his face but failing to stop the flow of blood.
Feeling out of my body, I stood up and stepped over him on my way to the bathroom, warm blood underneath my bare feet. The cold water turned red until my face was clean. Blood still clung to my shirt and hair, but I didn’t care. In the background, Bo’s screams faded into sobs, with the occasional threat to kill me.
I wiped my face with a towel and stepped out of the bathroom. Without looking at the pathetic form on the floor, I exited the room and closed the door behind me, welcoming the eerie silence. With no destination in mind, I walked barefoot down the dim and familiar hallway, leaving bloody footprints in my wake.
“Jonah.”
I stopped, surprised I hadn’t noticed Eliot standing in front of me.
“What happened?” He hurried toward me. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Then whose blood is it?”
“Bo’s.”
He sighed in relief. “Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
He touched my shoulder. “I came to take you to see Mr. White and my brother. They would like a word with you.”
“Then we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
*
“Quite a day you’ve been having,” Mr. White said after I told them what I’d done.
The Director had sent someone to check up on Bo, but none of them seemed overly concerned, making me think I should have maimed the bastard long ago. We were sitting in the dungeon for some reason, the four of us in a circle. The Director and Eliot seemed tense, glancing at each other.
“Why am I here?” I asked.
“You’ve created quite a predicament,” Mr. White said. “Saving the life of a Society member must never go unrewarded, however, we rarely find ourselves in life-and-death situations these days, and they never involved someone in your… position.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying, sir.”
“You deserve a reward, Jonah, and I have the means to grant it to you.” Mr. White held my gaze. “What would you wish for?”
I shook my head. “You can’t give me what I want.”
“Ask,” The Director said, his voice rasping.
Next to him, Eliot nodded in encouragement.
I rubbed my face. They were playing with me, fucking with my head. But I was exhausted, mentally and physically, and I had nothing to lose by saying, “I would like my freedom back.”
None of them seemed surprised, and why would they? It wasn’t like I was going to ask for nicer clothes. I waited for them to say that it could not be done, but Mr. White’s next words sent a shockwave through my heart. “That can be arranged.”
I watched his mouth, waiting for a crooked smile, for a laugh. He said, “However, it might require a bit more convincing for the other High Council members to agree. We will need to be creative and show them how truly worthy of freedom you are.”
“You’re lying,” I spat. “You won’t ever let me leave this place. I’m not stupid.”
“He’s telling the truth.” Eliot sounded as if he could barely believe it himself.
I opened my mouth to call him a liar—because wasn’t he the biggest liar of all? But I couldn’t deny the honesty in his eyes, and it rattled me to my core.
“What… what do you mean by being creative?” I asked Mr. White, scratching my knees with my nails, wishing for a needle.
“We need to know that we can trust you, Jonah, that you won’t speak about your time here to anyone.”
“I won’t.” My eyes began to sting, my breath quickening. “I swear.”
“Actions speak louder than words, as they say.” Mr. White turned to a guard by the entrance. “Bring him.”
When the guard left, I asked, “Who’s he bringing?”
“Our creative solution, of course.” Mr. White glanced to the front of the room, where men were tortured every day. “Is the recording equipment working?”
“Yes,” I said warily.
“Then please turn on the cameras.”
I tried to meet The Director’s eyes, but he was staring at his hands. I pushed myself to my feet, the lumps of blood on my shirt beginning to clot. I went to turn on the four cameras, all aimed at the staging area.
It’s a trick , I kept telling myself. The cruelest punishment imaginable for daring to hurt one of their own. But how could that be, since Eliot had come to get me before he knew about Bo?
I turned around at the sound of struggle. Two guards dragged naked Nathan down the stairs. His skin was slick with sweat, his face bruised and bleeding.
Watching him made the pieces fall into place. I was going to torture him on camera—to fully transform into one of them. And if I ever spoke of these people or this place, they would have proof of my participation in their horrible acts.
Mr. White signaled me to come closer. I returned to face the three men who held my life in their hands.
“Do you understand what is required of you?” Mr. White asked.
Neither The Director nor Eliot met my eyes.
“I understand,” I said. “I can do it.”
Mr. White nodded. “Good. I knew you were special, and now the world will once more get to enjoy your presence. We shall discuss the technical terms of your freedom after we’re done with this unpleasant affair.”
I managed a stiff nod, beginning to believe that this might truly be happening.
“Get him ready,” Mr. White told the guards.
They dragged Nathan to the front of the room and chained him to the ceiling, making him stand on his tiptoes. His dark copper hair had grown long enough to reach his shoulders, all tangled and filthy.
I took a breath to steady my heart, but I’d lost control of its drumming. I asked Mr. White, “Should I start?”
“No time like the present, but you’ll first need this, of course.” He reached inside his blazer and pulled out a gun. I took a step back, almost losing my footing. He chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were surprised.”
“What… what do you want me to do with that?”
He cocked his head, frowning. “Oh, my. We don’t seem to be on the same page here. Let me be even clearer. You are to shoot Nathan until he turns into a corpse. Better?”
My eyes darted from The Director to Eliot, their stoic expression indicating they had known about this.
“I… I can’t kill him!” My panic surged, tightening my throat. “I’ll hurt him, but—”
“There’s no ‘but,’ Jonah.” Mr. White raised the gun for me to take. “One way out, and one way only.”
And what if I shoot you instead? By the smile on Mr. White’s face, he was reading my thoughts and finding them amusing.
Shooting him wouldn’t get me out of here; shooting Nathan would.
“Please don’t make—”
“I’m losing my patience, Jonah, and I find your ungratefulness insulting. If we’re done here—”
“No!” Nothing scared me more than losing this chance of freedom. I forced my shaky hand to close around the gun. It felt heavier than I’d expected.
“How do I… how do I use it?”
“The safety’s off,” Mr. White said. “You just point and shoot.”
“You can do it, Jonah.” Eliot attempted a reassuring smile, but his nervousness showed.
Did he think that by regaining my freedom, his sin would be forgiven?
With the gun heavy in my hand, I walked to face Nathan, aware of the stillness in the air and the tightness in my lungs.
With both his eyes bruised and almost shut, Nathan said, “You should’ve let me kill him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter now. I’d have done the same in your place. Fuck, I really thought I could wear them down.” He lowered his eyes to the gun in my hand, his Adam’s apple moving. “Aim for the head, okay? Make it nice and quick.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again, my words hollow and my tears unworthy. My heart beat so fast it felt like it might burst.
“I’m sorry too.” He wet his lips. “If I could be as soulless as you, I would’ve been the one standing in your place. Go on. Stop wasting my—”
I blew his head off.