Chapter 27
When he disappears, I whimper softly, pressing my face against the wire of the cage. It was definitely my imagination, because there’s no way he’s here. Which is made clear by the fact he just vanished. If Shiloh was really here—
The kennel rattles suddenly, and I look up to see Craig’s rictus grin just as a flash goes off in my face.
I’m too tired and too miserable to do anything but look at him while he takes pictures of me in a fucking dog kennel, though humiliation simmers low in my empty stomach.
The sour taste of vomit still lingers in the back of my throat, and with my nose clogged up from the blood, I have to breathe through my mouth.
All I can really hope for at this point is that they’re going to let me go home soon.
I’ve said what they wanted. And I’m sure I look absolutely miserable, though I’m not sure how they think this will go over if they post pictures of me like this on their website.
I’ve seen their other pictures, and while some people seemed pretty unhappy or terrified, none of them has ever looked half as wretched as I do.
“I think that’s enough,” one of the hooded men ventures. “We can’t post these, Craig. Fuck, look at her. She’s—”
“It’s not about posting them,” Gloria interrupts smoothly. She walks around to join Craig, but leans down a moment later to unlatch the dog kennel. “Come here, Scaredy Cat,” she coos. “Let me clean you up for the camera.”
“You could just drop dead?” I croak with a dry smile spread wide on my bloody, cracked lips. “I think that would make me feel better than you touching me again, actually.”
A noise sounds from somewhere further inside the building, though I barely hear it.
I’m only paying attention enough to see that both of the other men leave to make sure the dogs aren’t making a fuss over nothing, though I want to whine in protest at the idea of them leaving.
They seem to be the only voices of reason here.
Especially when Gloria reaches in and drags my all-but limp form out of the kennel until I’m lying on the concrete, panting, with my knees and palms burning.
“I could drop dead,” she agrees sweetly, pulling me up to my knees.
Craig moves away from her, opening the back of the camera with a mumble about the SD card being full.
But he’s out of my sight soon enough, and all I can focus on is Gloria in front of me.
“But I would rather make you look pretty for your photos.” With one hand she reaches forward to smear the blood across my face, making it worse instead of better and bumping the side of her hand purposefully against my sore nose.
Before I can reply, the sound of the camera smashing against the floor makes me jump, and Gloria looks up with her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Did you really just…?” But her words fail, and she drops me on my face on the concrete, prompting me to groan and try to shuffle to my knees.
When I finally manage to turn, I immediately see what has her concerned. Craig is no longer holding the camera, obviously, but less expected is the way Shiloh stands behind him in his mask with a hunting knife at his throat, head tipped to the side while his attention remains trained on Gloria.
“I like her suggestion of you both dropping dead,” he tells them in the coldest voice I’ve ever heard. Even though it isn’t directed at me, it still sends shivers down my spine. “Why don’t you untie her for me, Gloria?”
Gloria hesitates long enough that Shilo gives a little huff of irritation, and with a simple flick of his wrist, blood runs down Craig’s throat, making him gasp and fight against the masked man. “Untie her!” he snarls, eyes wild as he looks at his sister. “For fuck’s sake, Gloria, he just cut me—”
“Fine.” Gloria seems a little less freaked out than her brother, and she walks stiffly back to me.
Standing behind me, she takes a few seconds to untie the rope from my wrists.
Once I’m free, I jerk away from her, feeling returning to my arms with harsh tingles in my nerves.
“You want to let my brother go now?” Her words are carefully neutral as she asks, but I scramble away from her as quickly as I can, going so far as to hide behind Shiloh.
He lets me, even stepping in front of me.
So much of me wants to lean into his leg and grab his jeans to hold on to. I want to cry against him—
I want him to hurt them.
The thought comes as somewhat of a surprise, though when I consider how my night is going, it seems less shocking to me when I let the thought just sit in my brain for a minute.
I manage to sit up on my own, glaring at Gloria around Shiloh’s leg.
Under most circumstances, I would want to be up and on my own two feet.
I would want to prove that I’m not afraid, and certainly not defeated.
But right now, all I want is to watch him hurt them.
“Your friends are locked in dog kennels. Not that you seem very concerned about them,” Shiloh says conversationally in a voice so dark that it makes me shudder.
I’ve never heard him talk like this, and I wonder if this is his work voice.
“They’re the only ones of you with any sense at all.
Now”—he turns, looking at Craig—“are you going to be a good boy and not do something stupid when I let go of you?” he croons in the man’s ear. “I’d hate to have to stab you.”
“Fuck you,” Craig snarls, though there’s a reedy, nervous whine in his voice that tells me he’s afraid of Shiloh. But I would be too, if he turned that tone of voice on me.
“I’m not interested.” Shiloh lets go and Craig stumbles forward, his hand coming up to press to the front of his neck.
Then Shiloh tips the knife, pointing at both of them in turn.
“I think we should have a little talk about this whole thing. It seems to me you were giving her some extra-special treatment?” Even with the sing-song lilt in his voice, he still sounds so cold, so unfriendly, that it sends a shudder down my spine.
I huddle closer to him, my eyes wide as I look at Gloria. “Why is that?”
“She just signed up to come. We’re collaborating,” Gloria sneers. “You act like we’re doing something wrong, when all we’re doing is—”
“Torturing her. Yeah, I can tell from the dog kennel. Do you always push your guests so hard their noses bleed? She’s soaking wet, and there’s no heat in here. I could go on…” I look up when I feel his eyes on me, and I swear I see Shiloh’s body tense.
“But I won’t. I also won’t go into what I found out about you on the way here.” The mask turns towards Craig, who flinches. “You’re not very popular in Nashville, are you, Craig? Something about not being allowed to open a business there after some incidents involving a few of your haunt guests?”
Craig looks away, his jaw working in frustration, but he can’t meet Shiloh’s gaze. “Shut up,” he hisses finally. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know—”
“And you. You’re just so interesting.” Shiloh turns to Gloria.
“Served in the military and graduated med school. But well, I think we both know that didn’t end well.
Must’ve really burned you out, since you joined your brother’s little torture endeavor.
Do you hire your friends, or are you just that good at finding felons?
Those two guys back here seem to have the cleanest records of anyone you’ve hired in the past five years.
Though…” He rocks back on his heels. “Is it really hiring them when you’re paying them in twisted ways to get off? ”
“You’ve made your point,” Gloria snaps. She’s trying to sound braver than her brother, but her face gives her away. “I don’t know why you care, or how you know her…” Her eyes narrow. “Oh, yes, I do. You’re that boy of hers, aren’t you? The one I saw at her house. Fucking asshole.”
I snort, shuddering as my stomach tries to rebel again. It’s rich of Gloria to insult Shiloh after tonight. But thankfully, they ignore me.
“I can be whatever you want me to be.” Shiloh’s voice is cool and unaffected by the insult. “Your words don’t hurt my feelings in the least bit. But unless you want me to cut your brother a little deeper, why don’t you lock him in that dog kennel for me?”
The siblings stare down at the wire dog kennel, then trade a look with each other. Craig’s worry is clear, but Gloria just glares daggers at Shiloh. “He won’t fit, and you know it,” she says quietly.
“Try,” Shiloh encourages. “For me.” The way he says it makes it abundantly clear it isn’t a request.
Watching them try would be entertaining if I didn’t feel like shit.
Craig does fit, but only barely. His elbows bang on the wires, and by the time he’s in the kennel with it closed behind him, it looks comical.
He’s certainly not having a good time, judging by the litany of curses that fall like rain from his lips, but thankfully, I can’t see his face.
“Are you happy now?” Gloria asks, moving to stand in front of her whining brother. They aren’t so scary when they’re the ones being humiliated, though it’s hard for me to appreciate anything at all. “He’s in a kennel. Just leave. No one’s going to stop you—”
“I’m almost happy,” my stalker interrupts smoothly. “I just need one more thing from you, Gloria. One little, tiny thing.”
Glancing up at him, I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Not one bit. But he shifts the knife to one hand and reaches the other out. “I just want a promise. I just want you to pinkie promise you won’t post about her. You won’t mention her. You won’t let her name cross your lips ever again.”
I can tell immediately she’s not taking it seriously. Her head tilts to the side, and a grin twists on her lips. “Yeah, I—”
“A pinkie promise,” Shiloh interrupts, and extends his gloved pinkie. The childishness of the gesture surprises me. He’s never had a penchant for this kind of thing, at least not from what I’ve seen. And I’m bemused that he’s making her do it. Is it some kind of humiliation for her?
Gloria seems to be thinking the same. She hesitates, then rolls her eyes and walks forward, her own hand out. “Sure,” she tells Shiloh flatly. “Whatever, buddy. I pinkie promise—”
I barely see the knife come up. But a second later, Gloria screams and stumbles back with her hand clutched to her chest and her eyes wide. Blood wells, dripping like a sieve from her hands, no matter how hard she tries to staunch it. “Y-you—”
“Like I said,” Shiloh purrs, holding up her pinkie finger and twisting it to look at it in the dim light of the room. “Just one little thing.”
I should be horrified as I look at her shaking with hate and fear and pain in her eyes. She stands there unsteady, like she might fall, but Shiloh just pockets her fucking finger and sheathes his blade. “You should leave now,” he tells her. “Get out of my sight before I decide to take another.”
Gloria hesitates, looking down at her caged brother. But she makes the right decision and takes off at a jog down the hallway, while Craig screams at her to come back and let him out.
“Want me to kick him?” There’s a hint of playfulness in Shiloh’s voice as he looks down at me, and I give him a small smile, then nod. He walks away from me, and rattles the cage with one boot. “Shut up, Craig.” He sighs when Craig’s curses are directed at him. “Or I’ll take your finger too.”
That shuts him up.
I get up carefully, feeling shaky on my legs, but before I can even take a step, Shiloh sweeps me up into his arms, carrying me bridal style out of the workshop and into the cornfield beyond.
We’ve only gone a few yards when he reaches into his pocket and chucks Gloria’s pinkie finger into the field.
“I don’t actually want it,” he confides in me.
“But I don’t want her to get it back, either. ”
I’m so tired that I settle against him, though normally I’d want to walk. I’d want to prove that I’m fine, that—
“How did you even know I was here?” I ask, though I don’t get an answer from under the wolf mask. “Shiloh?” His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer to his chest. “Are you mad?”
“Yeah,” Shiloh assures me in a soft growl. “Yeah, I’m pretty mad, Persy, you know why?” Moments later I’m on the ground, feet planted among the cornstalks, and he’s gripping my face in both hands, holding me up to face him.
“I’m mad because you didn’t tell me,” he growls.
“Because you were stupid. Because…fuck.” He reaches up with one hand and tears off the mask, his eyes dark with concern.
“Because they hurt you, and it’s really hard to stop myself from going back there right now and tearing them apart for you right now.
” His eyes flick downward to my lips, where my breaths are coming in open-mouthed pants.
“Don’t kiss me,” I murmur. “I threw up like thirty minutes ago right before I was waterboarded. It’s gross, and I don’t want to gross you out—”
“I don’t care,” he murmurs, and drags me forward onto the balls of my feet to crush his lips to mine with a possessive, desperate growl.