Chapter 43
Ifeel a slight tremble in Otto’s body as I take turns squeezing and allowing him to breathe under my hold.
He coughs, and I release my grip enough for him to speak. “Crew, it’s not what you think.”
Crew leans closer to his face. “And what should I think?”
I squeeze again, this time harder, and lean my face closer to his. “Look at me, Otto.”
His panicked eyes lock onto mine, and I meet his gaze with a crazed smile. Otto’s eyes widen as I trap him in my stare, and my pupils dilate as he fixates on me. Otto is human, and I happen to have a trick that works perfectly on them.
“You’ll do as I say,” I whisper, staring into his dark eyes.
Otto nods, panic flashing across his expression.
“Start by holding your breath until I say you can breathe again."
I watch as he struggles to fight my compulsion, but feel victorious as his mouth closes, and I sense his chest stop rising and falling under my hold. His eyes go wild, and he fights the urge to scream at me.
I turn to Crew, feeling proud.
“Although I love this insane tactic, little angel, let him talk,” Crew says, tapping my arm. “I want to hear this.”
Buzzkill.
I glare at Crew but return my gaze to Otto. “Breathe.”
Otto gasps, “You are insane.”
“Wrong thing to say, dickhead,” I laugh. “Maybe bite your tongue this time.”
His eyes go wild, and I watch as his teeth slowly sink into his tongue, deeper each second. A desperate groan leaves his lips as the sharp pinch of his bite sends a jolt of pain through his mouth.
“Harder,” I whisper.
Otto tenses his jaw tighter as blood starts to coat his tongue, turning his top teeth a bright crimson. I hear Crew huff behind me, and I cut my gaze to his.
“Mara,” Crew says. “Come on.”
“Fine,” I snap, but I hesitate a few more seconds to let the burn settle into his lungs. “Otto… stop.”
A whoosh of air fills his lungs, and he coughs, blood pooling on his lips. “It’s for… Sam.”
Crew rolls his eyes. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes,” he nearly cries.
“Why would he ask you to do this?” Crew rages.
I lean forward, making this a game now and whisper, “No breathing for you, Otto.”
I watch his eyes bulge, and his mouth shut once more. I laugh, and Crew grabs my shoulder, spinning me to face him.
“Are you having fun with this?” Crew says.
“Would you hate me if I said yes?” I respond. “Because yes.”
“You are actually terrifying, and no, I don’t hate you,” Crew smirks, kissing the top of my head. "But he’s my friend. I’ve worked with him for years.”
“Aren’t you mad about this?” I ask.
“Of course I am,” Crew responds. “But we need to know what he knows. Then you can play your sick games with him if you want.”
I return my stare to Otto once more. “You can breathe now.”
“You two are… fucking nuts,” Otto coughs.
Crew smiles wildly. “I know.”
“He… doesn’t trust her. Sam thinks she will betray us—betray you—and he wanted me to record next time we meet for information you might be keeping from him.”
“Why?” Crew repeats.
“Because of what she is—the Hollow Huntress—and who her fucking dad is.”
“What should I have you do now, Otto?” My voice slams into him. I glance at the whiskey decanter and smile. “Chug this for me, please.”
This man has no idea who or what I am. Anger fuels me as I watch him hesitate, but he ultimately obeys the compulsion and reaches for the whiskey. He removes the lid, keeping his shocked gaze on me, and lifts it to his lips.
“Let’s wash that blood down,” I say. “Don’t you think?”
The brown liquid flows down his throat, spilling from the corner of his mouth as his eyes go wild. The burn makes him cough as he continues to swallow, and I swear I can hear the cuts on his tongue sizzle from the booze.
“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” I hiss, watching him nearly choke. “But I do. And if I were you, I’d be scared. Are you? Do you like the feeling of this burning your fucking throat?”
Otto tries to shake his head as he finishes the whiskey and gasps for air. Before he can take a deep breath, I wrap my hand around his throat and press his head hard against the concrete wall.
“Hold your fucking breath now.”
Crew remains silent, watching for a moment and feeling everything that crashes into my system.
My veins pulse, on the verge of exploding, and I sense a loss of control along with my morals.
I tighten my grip again, even though he is compelled not to breathe—his raging heartbeat feels good against my hold.
“Mara.”
“What?” I shout.
Crew places a hand on my shoulder, “If you keep making him hold his breath, or if you keep squeezing, he will die.”
“And why shouldn’t he?” I snap.
“I’m not telling you to stop, blood slinger,” Crew’s demonic voice floats through me. “I’m telling you to think about your next moves before it’s too late.”
I gaze back at Crew, then back to Otto’s red, sweaty face.
“He was going to sell us out.”
Crew nods. “He was.”
“And I want to kill him for it,” I reply.
“Then do it, and I’ll be here to help you clean it up.”
I glance over my shoulder into Crew’s eyes—he’s truly serious.
He would help me burn this world to the ground if I thought it was necessary.
He wouldn’t stop me, but he would be there for me.
Killing Otto would be easy; watching the light leave his eyes like I have countless times before would be simple.
But the real challenge is suppressing these emotions and resisting an urge that feels natural to me.
“Make a choice now, Mara, or he’s dead either way,” Crew says. “I won’t fault you for either.”
I look at Otto, his purple face contorted with discomfort and desperation. I narrow my eyes and lean inches from his ear.
“You will leave town.”
He nods.
“Cross us again, and I’ll do what I just did to you for days. I have time. If you think I’m hollow, I’ll show you just how soulless I can fucking be.”
Otto’s head slightly bows, and fear makes his body tremble against me.
“You can breathe,” I barely whisper. “For now.”
I pull him forward slightly before slamming his head into the concrete hard enough to knock him out, but not kill him.
His body slumps as my hand releases his neck.
Red wounds already mark his throat in a handprint, but color slowly begins to return to his unconscious body as oxygen fills his lungs.
I kick his side, hearing a rib crack, and walk past Crew to the desk, feeling both frustrated and relieved that I could walk away.
I pick up the cell phone and throw it onto the hard ground. Mechanical parts scatter into the air along with the shattered black glass, and the screen goes dark.
I turn to face Crew, his eyes returning to normal, and he smiles, but my chest continues to rise and fall rapidly.
“Sam will be thrilled about this,” he says.
I huff. “I have plans for the next time I see him.”
Crew walks forward, placing both hands on my shoulders. “I have no doubt.”
“We knew Sam didn’t trust me, but he was supposed to trust you,” I say.
“It seems like things have changed. Sam is smart. He knows I’d choose you over anything.”
I look back at Otto; his color has returned, but he remains unconscious, and I imagine that will continue now with the alcohol in his system.
“Think he will leave?” I ask.
“I absolutely would.” Crew laughs, “You’re fucking scary.”
I huff a laugh. “I’m glad you think so.”
I walk toward the door, eager to escape the stuffy office. Crew follows closely behind, locking the office door from the inside before shutting it and stepping into the hallway.
“Want to go home?” Crew asks. “Or is this night just getting started?”
The loud bass rattles my racing heart, and the flashing red lights burst from the closed door leading into the main part of the pit.
I watch as the lights dance across Crew’s handsome face and try to drown out the thoughts in my head about the decisions that have led me to be this hollow—a word that will haunt me forever, I fear.
I look at my hands, still feeling Otto’s panicked heartbeat against my palm, and furrow my brows.
“You walked away,” Crew says. “You didn’t hurt him.”
“I did, though,” I respond. “I nearly lost control, Crew. I wanted him to die.”
“Me too,” Crew admits, walking forward. “But you made a choice, and I think it’s one you can live with.”
“Yeah,” I respond, and Crew touches my cheek.
“You aren’t all bad, little angel,” Crew says. “But I do think you could use a drink.”
He smirks, raising his brows at me, and I chuckle.
“Alright, Bannermin.” I extend my hand for him to take. “Show me the ropes.”
A wide, wicked grin spreads across his face as he takes my hand and squeezes it in his. He yanks me forward, swinging open the door that leads to the bar. The music blares, and the lights make me squint as I step over the threshold with Crew—directly into the pits of hell.
It takes me a few seconds to figure out which way I’m facing and to grasp the layout of the pit.
The door opens near the restrooms, which are packed with people in line and others nearly fucking against them.
Graffiti covers the walls—names, phone numbers, and vulgar stories about someone being bad in bed.
My eyes scan my surroundings as I take everything in.
He pulls me down a short hallway into the main room, which pulses like a beating heart. Throughout the vast space, hybrids and humans mingle together on leather couches, while some prowl toward the dance floor, ready to let the music take over their souls.
The red lights bleed across the walls, casting crimson shadows on people's faces. The ceiling is high, with a wide opening that reveals the upper part of the bar where a few angels dare to look over, curious about what’s happening below.
The humans move about, acutely aware of the silent unease and excitement this place brings, knowing they are playing with fire, but for now, they all blend.