Chapter Twenty-Five #4
“Enough, both of you!” Yari wails, on his feet while I slink out of my chair, shuffling across the room. “Can’t you just calm down and have a rational discus—”
“Stay out of it!” they both bark at him in unison.
Velle rips out of Kent’s hold, chest heaving. He eyes the Warden, pure wrath seeping from his pores. Manuel Blanco pushes his hair back into place, attempting to compose himself. I’ve never seen him so angry, but also so… affected.
I could’ve sworn he was made up of pure evil, but I don’t think evil has to force itself not to care.
“I told you, I’m not your pet anymore,” Velle breathes out. “I meant it. But I promise you this… I’ll be the worst mistake you ever made.”
The Ivory cocks his head. “You could’ve had it all. I gave you a life, a home, a purpose . And in return, all I asked was that you serve me, faithfully…”
“Fuck you,” Velle snarls. “You don’t own me—”
“ Loyalty , you ungrateful fucking shit,” The Ivory snaps. “It’s everything . But you spit in my face.” His glower is baleful, tone chilling. “Now, as far as I’m concerned, you, your men, your partners … You’re already dead.”
Velle’s eyes are narrowed to slits as he grouses, “Not yet.”
Turning, he storms out of the room, not without first casting a glare right at me. I’m uncertain what it means, but I do know that he doesn’t care much for me. He must be even more suspicious of me now that he’s seen me by The Ivory’s side…
As soon as the door hurls shut, we all release a collective breath. Everyone but Manuel Blanco.
He stomps over to a different door, whipping it open and stalking inside—it looks like an attached en suite. He slams the door so hard the walls rattle. I glance at Yari, who’s chewing on his bottom lip. Kent is staring out the window.
What in the bloody hell just happened??
Apparently, there’s a lot more to the discord between Team Velle and Team Ivory. History, manipulation, bad blood…
I swear to God, being on this island is like being in The Godfather.
A loud, guttural roar startles me, and I look at the door. Yari flinches when something crashes, things banging and smashing in there.
“Can I go…?” I whisper to Kent, who shakes his head.
A moment later, Manuel Blanco emerges from the loo, straightening his collar and smoothing back his hair. He strides calmly to his desk, taking a seat.
We’re all just gaping at him, waiting for some indication of what he wants us to do as he picks up his phone, fingers working quickly on the screen. The only sounds to be heard are the clicks of his typing.
Many tense moments later, he finally speaks. “I want Officer Chevelle and his team removed from the mansion.” His gaze lifts to Kent. “They’re being evicted. Effective immediately.”
Clearing my head feels necessary.
After that bizarre, highly tense visit with The Ivory, I decided to take a walk, since it’s the only thing I can do, shy of returning to my cell and burdening Byron with this rubbish.
Still, it’s hard to feel grateful for anything when every inch of leeway seems like another foot of rope forming the noose currently around my neck.
I’ve become quite familiar with the maze of these hallways over the last few weeks, exploring the ins and outs, the corridors that connect from one area to another.
I’ve learned how to avoid being seen by the occasional guard, doctor, or orderly.
And I’ve perfected my spying. Although, is it really spying when someone is always watching you… ?
Glancing up at the camera on the ceiling, I wonder who’s on the other side. Which of The Ivory’s men are following my every move… What they must think. What he’s told them…
Stopping at the sound of yelling, I peer around a corner. There’s a man in a white lab coat— I’d assume he’s a doctor, but then who would know —exiting one of the exam rooms, rather quickly. Fleeing from the aggrieved bellows of whoever is in there.
When I’m sure the coast is clear, I slink over to peer inside the room. There’s a form slumped over in an exam chair, looking exhausted and utterly tormented—burn marks all over his exposed skin, dark hair hanging in his face. His head slants, and I gulp.
It’s Ren.
Not only are they holding him down here… They’re experimenting on him.
I’m not surprised, but still. Seeing the state he’s in gives me a strange pang in the gut. I’m familiar with such agony.
My mind flashes back to that day in the rec room…
“Don’t try to pretend you care about anyone else…” Byron seethed at Luthor and Ren, his resentment masking obvious pain. “Especially not me. Because we all know it’s a fucking lie.”
The Ivory made it sound like the things that happen within these walls are all very intentional, and I’m not surprised by that either.
We’re all pawns in his game, from his spy, all the way down to the lying arsonist, who is apparently enough of a threat that he needs to be strapped to a chair and tortured.
Byron deserves to know about all of this. I should tell him the things I’ve heard, what I’ve witnessed…
But The Ivory was right. We’re all one another has left. If I were to tell him, then it goes back to being all about them . But what about me?
I know Byron doesn’t really need me… But I need him.
As long as we have each other, we don’t need anyone else.
“Keep your secrets, Trevel… Don’t rely on anyone to fix you…”
Ren lifts his face, but I’m gone before he can see me.
I’m rushing down a different corridor when I’m stopped by a voice.
“Is he okay?”
I peer around, because I can’t tell where it’s coming from. It’s muffled, as if someone is speaking to me from inside one of the cells, but I don’t know which one.
“Does it matter?” I respond, checking each window. “No one is okay in here…”
“Fair point,” the voice croaks.
It sounds male, raspy yet smooth. Tired, though that’s to be expected.
Who is that? It doesn’t sound exactly like him, but…
“Leo…?” I murmur, stopping at a door that has no window, around a corner and set apart from the other cells.
“Sorry, no,” he responds.
He’s definitely inside this room, and now that I’m a bit closer, I can tell it’s not Leo. This is a real person, a young man.
“Are you… a friend of The Ivory?” he asks me.
I’m taken aback by the question at first, though I don’t know why. I suppose that’s exactly what I am; a part of his team. On his side .
Beholden to the devil.
“It would appear so, wouldn’t it?” I lean against the door, my mind swimming.
“You’ve put your trust in him?”
I purse my lips. “I wouldn’t go that far…”
“So you get it, then,” he goes on. “That in order to be on his side , you have to accept that you’ll never come first. Your wants, needs… They’ll all take a backseat to his. Because he is all of it .”
I swallow hard, reeling from his words. “You sound like you know this from personal experience…”
“In a way.”
Turning to face the door, I tap my knuckles on it gently. “Why are you in there?”
He’s quiet for a moment before he sighs, “Revenge.”
That one word… It sets my teeth on edge. Thumps my pulse in my neck.
“It’s… important,” I tell him, though my voice trails and I add, “Right?”
“Yes,” he answers with certainty. “It is.”
I breathe out of relief. But then he says, “I heard once that the best revenge is living a healthy, happy life.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He chuckles. It’s a nice sound; melodious and pure. Who is this mystery person? “I guess it’s like rising above or something. The best revenge is not needing it, you know?”
I frown, picking at some chipped paint on the door. “I suppose… But getting it just feels so bloody good.”
The lad laughs again. “You’re funny, bad guy. I hope you get your revenge.”
For the sod of it, I try the handle on the door. It doesn’t open.
But it doesn’t matter, because voices up the hall alert me that it’s time to go.
“You too, stranger,” I whisper, my chest aching with a memory. Of Alice. “Stay safe.”
I think he’s mumbling something in Spanish, but I can’t hear it, nor can I stick around.
Darting away, I rush back toward general population, all the while plagued by that voice, and those words. Everything that’s happened today, and yesterday, since my arrival at Alabaster Pen, and even before.
Revenge has led me to a lot of places, some good, some not. But I can’t deny that if it weren’t for the terrible things I’ve experienced, I wouldn’t be here right now…
In this dingy, awful prison. With the most intoxicating person I’ve ever met.
The lights are already out in the row as I’m entering our cell, slipping inside quietly. Despite the darkness, I can see the lump that is Byron Kang, who’s curled up in his bed.
My exquisitely damaged shadowman.
Stepping over to the bunk bed, I pause with my hands on the ladder. But it takes only a moment to decide, and then I’m crawling into his bed.
The flimsy mattress dips at my weight, and Byron shifts, his eyes gleaming up at me. “You’re back…”
I don’t respond, simply nestle up beside him. And to my surprise, and delight, he doesn’t ask why I’m in his bed, nor does he gripe at me to leave. He spins to face me.
Letting out a soft breath, I stare, riveted, losing myself in the depths of his gaze. There are so many things I want to say to him, so much I’d love for him to understand.
He deserves to know who I am… How I feel about him.
But I’m… so very afraid.
Grazing my thumb over his full bottom lip, I whisper, “Don’t stop me.”
And he doesn’t.
My mouth covers his, and I kiss him, softly but insistently enough that he releases a small whine. It sets me ablaze, the darkness melting away.
I can’t even fathom it, but there are torrents of light behind my eyes as I fall to pieces with his lips on mine.
Nothing has ever felt as good as finally kissing him.
“Oh, Byron ,” I purr, sucking on his perfect mouth like candy. “My taste of decadent fury …”
He opens for me, giving me his tongue. I give mine back, and they stroke while our lips brush, suck and bruise.
“Trevel , baby ,” he whimpers, sliding a possessive hand up my chest, then my neck, into my hair.
This is unlike anything else, somehow hotter than our hottest sex. All the deliciously dirty things we’ve done together were just that—carnality, above all else.
But this is passion. A fervent yearning for something deeper than just our bodies craving pleasure. God help us… But this is far from casual.
Dooming our fate or not, Byron and I are kissing .
We do it for so long, our mouths go numb.