Chapter 39
Ash
There’s a strange blur of time, a smudge of unconsciousness that takes me from Widow with the bloody sword in his hand, to the hospital.
I’m incoherent for the majority of the drive, rousing from my drugged lethargy only when the gurney is wheeled through the emergency doors of the hospital in Springfield.
I recognize the logo on the wall.
Widow is in a gurney beside me, strapped down like I am, as if we’re both mental patients.
For the first time since he collapsed on the floor, I can see his eyes.
He’s staring back at me from amber orbs, his face as paralyzed and impassive as his body.
My dark eyes look right back at him, finding connection and comfort in his gaze.
I hate that.
I don’t want him here.
This is my worst fear, for someone I care about to suffer because of me.
It’s why I tried so hard not to fall for Scarlett in the first place.
It’s why I was more than willing to die in my quest to kill Jonas before he could get to Scarlett.
I don’t matter. Ash never mattered. He was never really real anyway, not until recently.
Adrian, you should’ve let me go, I think, but it’s too late.
All we can do is stare at one another until my gurney is pushed ahead of his, rolled onto an elevator.
Widow is there, too, but we can’t see each other anymore.
Whatever drug we’ve been given, I can’t move my head to look. Can’t open my mouth to say a word.
The elevator doors slide shut, locking us in the small space with a half-dozen of my father’s men.
I recognize a few of their faces. The rest I can’t see, since my head is stuck facing up and to the right.
Up, up, up, we go. The doors open and the gurneys are pushed out into a sterile white hallway that looks much the same as the one on the first floor.
Both Widow and I are put into the same surgical suite, our beds side-by-side again.
We keep looking at each other. Even if we had a choice, if we could move our heads, I imagine this is the direction we’d both be staring anyway.
Widow’s left arm is handcuffed to the gurney, flung out in my direction in a way he can’t control.
My right arm is still free from the straps, having never been put back after Widow tried to free me.
Our fingertips are touching.
I’m so sorry, I tell him with my eyes, feeling a single tear slide down my cheek. Or maybe it’s blood? Whatever it is, hot and wet, it rolls down my face and across my frozen lips. Gomenasai, Adrian.
The guards leave the room, quickly replaced with medical staff wearing scrubs and masks and gloves. They flit around the space, preparing for something awful, I’ve no doubt. It’s not sterile in here anymore, is it? But it certainly looks like they’re preparing for surgery.
My father has been dabbling in the organ trade.
That thought, once it hits my head, refuses to leave. Fear floods my eyes, causing the slightest furrowing of Widow’s brow. He’s pleading with me in that gold gaze, begging me to keep looking at him, promising me that it’s better if we focus only on each other and nothing else.
Yes. I can do that. I will do that.
Nothing else matters in this room except for Adrian. His face relaxes slightly, like he’s saying nothing else matters in this room except for Ash.
The doors to the room open and there’s Jonas, striding in with footsteps that are so familiar to me that I don’t even have to see him to know.
My face is turned away, toward Adrian. My friend’s eyes shift from me to the man that’s just come to a stop beside my gurney.
Leaning over me, Jonas slaps my hand away from Widow’s, breaking the contact between our fingertips.
The loss is devastating.
My mind floods with images of Scarlett, of all the happy memories we’ve made together since the night I killed her sister.
She spirited me away and gave me the best weeks of my entire life.
I hate that at this fraught moment, with Adrian’s fate hanging from the same fragile thread as my own, I regret it all.
I regret it so much that another tear falls.
Or another drop of blood. I can’t wet my lips to taste it, to see if it’s blood or salt.
Scarlett, my love, you should’ve let me go.
Our obsession for one another is a blade that cuts every which way. I don’t even know if she’s dead. If Alexei or Bohnes is okay. How many members of the Crimson Crew might’ve died in the blast.
Jonas grabs my chin and adjusts my head, forcing me to look at him.
He’s smiling at me. But his eyes, they’re screaming—with triumph. Conquest. Satisfaction.
“Did Aspen have any idea what he was up against?” Jonas wonders, digging his nails into my skin.
His voice is light, playful. His touch is violence.
“Both he and I spent years laboring under the impression that you were pathetic, weak, and stupid. That was my mistake. You’re the spitting image of me, Ash. You have my blood, son.”
I can’t answer him, so I don’t. All I can do is fill my eyes with hatred and let him see it. If Jonas is focused on me then he’s not bothering Adrian.
“I will admit,” he continues lazily, ignoring the medical staff as they buzz around the room.
“That I’m not in a very good mood today.
You’ve set me back ten years. Not just that, but it seems that I’ll soon find myself without any heirs.
What good is a kingdom if there’s nobody around to inherit it?
” Jonas sighs dramatically, releasing my head and letting it flop painfully back on the gurney.
A strange sound escapes me, a stifled roar of rage that’s caged behind my drug-still lips.
Jonas leaves me there, my eyes on Widow’s again.
“Here’s what I’m thinking.” He takes another step back, leaving room for a pair of nurses on either side of the gurneys.
I can’t see what the person closest to me is doing, but the one working with Widow is pulling his pants down.
He’s injected with another drug, the needle pushed directly into his flaccid dick.
The same happens to me, a sharp burst of pain from the groin.
Itai-yo. “I’m going to need some replacements for you and your brother. An heir and a spare, as they say.”
My heart explodes, thinking he’s talking about Scarlett.
I can’t possibly imagine anything worse than that, than Jonas forcing himself— No.
I can’t entertain the thought. That’s not it.
If Scarlett were here, she’d be on a gurney beside us, just to add to the torment.
If it weren’t for Widow’s steady gaze, I might’ve gotten lost in the horrible possibilities.
He pulls me back; he saves me.
“Since you and Mr. Lawless are here, why don’t we make a deal?” Jonas’ smile grows wider as the nurse on Widow’s side lubes her gloved palms and then grabs onto his stiffening cock. The drug they just gave us, it did that. No. Oh, fuck, please no.
The same happens to me, an unwanted and unasked for erection bought with chemicals instead of attraction or love or want.
No input from me or Widow whatsoever. Forced.
It’s a horrific violation, a rape. Another nurse wraps their fingers around my shaft, and my mind starts to break apart. I can’t handle this. I—
Widow’s gaze. Cool and even. Me and him. Just us.
I can almost breathe again, detaching my spirit from my body, so I don’t have to feel it.
“You each give me a healthy sample of semen, and I’ll find a few surrogates. I’ll get a baby from both of you, and then I’ll raise them exactly like I did you and your brother.” Jonas laughs, and it’s as merry as one of Patricia’s Christmas carols.
Pure, unfiltered joy.
Internally, I’m screaming. Externally, I’m blinking rapidly at Widow and he’s staring wild-eyed and unblinking back at me.
“Your child,” Jonas adds, giving my gurney a little shake.
“I’ll raise the way I did your brother, twisting him until he turns out like a little Aspen clone.
As for Adrian’s child…” He rocks Widow’s gurney next, laughing at the sight of our shared rape.
“I’ll raise that one the way I did you. Tortured and tormented and unloved by everyone. How does that sound?”
Jonas walks up between the gurneys and leans down to whisper to me, his face nearly level with my own.
“God help either of them if they’re girls,” he says, and then he’s standing up straight and moving aside so that I can see the nurse’s glove working lubricant up and down on Widow.
My gurney is rattling in a way that promises I’m being subject to the same assault, milked like an animal for future torture.
I knew my father was cruel, but this level of sick creativity is a shock anyway. I told Scarlett that I didn’t dare imagine what punishments Jonas would give, since anything he could come up with would be worse.
I was right.
Widow and I tumble into one another’s eyes again, seeking refuge from the horrors of reality. My heart and my soul shatter and cut. Adrian is re-living his worst trauma again, thanks to me. We communicate in silence, searching for humanity in a place where nobody else has a soul but for us.
Our bodies are forced to give up the seed that only belongs to Scarlett.
The samples are stored in vials, tucked into a cryogenic tank, and handed over to Jonas.
It’s bad enough, having to see Widow raped in front of me, but knowing how badly he wanted a child?
I struggle desperately to move my arm, reaching for him.
In this cold, dark place, I have a friend. I have a friend, and I wish with all of my heart that I didn’t.
“Bring him,” Jonas says icily, staring down at me with an implacable hatred. “And start the prep on the other one. Mr. Booth has been waiting long enough.”
My gurney is pulled away from Widow’s, our questing fingers brushing together one last time.
I keep my attention on his gold eyes until the doors to the room are swinging shut behind me, cutting me off from the last source of love and friendship that I may ever see.
If only one of us can be saved, please let it be Adrian.
I’ve never prayed before. Never believed I ever would. I’m not even sure who it is that I’m praying to now, exactly. But I am. Vehemently.
My heart and soul have stopped screaming; they’re on their knees praying for Providence.
“You made me do this.” Jonas keeps pace with the gurney, reaching his fingers down to brush hair back from my forehead. Smiling. Smiling. Smiling. “This is your fault. You knew better, Ash. Because of you, Adrian Lawless won’t just die, he’ll suffer.”
We enter the elevator and the doors slide shut, leaving me alone with the psychopath I call my father.
“Didn’t you know?” he says to me, casual and flippant as we ride the elevator back to the ground floor. “Mr. Booth’s son was born with a heart condition.”