8. Ripley
CHAPTER 8
RIPLEY
DEVIL – LOWBORN
“Oi! Bitch!”
I release Luka’s hand, a small bundle of laxatives passed between us. He takes one look at the impending hothead barrelling towards us then books it with a muttered thank you .
“Welcome,” I grumble.
My Wednesday deliveries are almost complete. The usual suspects have scuttled up to accept their packages and deliver payment or hopelessly barter for a grace period they should know I’ll never give.
Blowing out a long breath, my skin prickles with pins and needles. It feels too tight. Stretched thin over my bones, like the groaning, rusted springs of a used trampoline being pummelled by an overexcited child. Mania always begins physically for me.
Another warning sign.
The upward swing is coming.
After my intense encounter with Raine, I spent a two-day stint in bed. Leaden and immovable. I only moved to use the bathroom and drink water from the tap. Not even my stomach could fight the weight of depression and force me to eat this time.
Tossing and turning, his words tormented me on a sleep-deprived loop. You don’t blame soldiers for the price they paid to survive the battlefield. Maybe not. But shouldn’t the survivor feel some remorse? Shouldn’t they mourn the blood on their hands?
Lennox and Xander don’t feel remorse. They have no regret for their cruelty, only pride at the position they stole in the most heinous of ways. Some villains cannot be redeemed. Especially those who refuse to acknowledge their own crimes.
“Ripley!” the voice hollers again.
Sighing, I scratch at my irritated inner arms beneath my jacket. I should’ve known that Rick would send one of his lackeys to fetch his usual smokes, like I’d somehow surrender the goods if he didn’t show his face again.
The poor bastard looked scared shitless when I told him to trot back to his friend to deliver the bad news. I ain’t selling shit to Rick ever again. Not after the stunt he pulled. But apparently, he’s going down swinging.
“Morning to you too,” I greet cheerily.
Stopping short, Rick holds back a snarl. “Where the fuck are my smokes?”
“As I told your little pet, Carlos, I have nothing for you.”
His hands curl into fists at his sides. I don’t give a shit about the lines of olive-toned muscle bulging beneath his t-shirt. If he makes a single move, I’ll unleash hell on him.
“We have a standing order!” he insists, nostrils flaring.
“Like I explained in the cafeteria, I don’t sell to assholes. Clearly, you didn’t heed my words.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“People keep doubting me.” I lay on an exaggerated pout. “Am I not being clear enough?”
Rick’s face is slowly turning a beetroot shade of red. It’s not an attractive look. No one’s here to pay attention to us in the abandoned quad, it’s too cold to brace the icy wind and impending snowstorm today.
I’d prefer an audience; I can’t have people thinking they can talk to me like I owe them shit. Rick’s been inching ever closer to crossing that line for a while now. My authority over the patient population can’t be challenged without consequence.
“You don’t want to do this,” he warns in what I’m sure he thinks is a threatening tone. “I don’t care what people here think of you. I’ll bury you all the same.”
“For refusing to sell you some cigarettes?” I laugh at him.
“For disrespecting me!” His lips curl back in a grimace. “And for being a bitch!”
Laughter dying, I let him see exactly how pathetic I think he is. “Tell me who the hell would respect someone like you?”
“Back off, Ripley. Final warning.”
“Or what?” I challenge. “You gonna teach me a lesson, tough guy?”
His shoulders hunch in preparation. “Maybe I will.”
I see the blow coming from a mile away, ducking before his fist can connect. However, a punch to my stomach comes too soon after for me to avoid. Pain flaring in my midsection, I wheeze through a choked breath.
“Still wanna laugh at me, bitch?” he shouts.
Rick takes advantage of my momentary surprise and goes for another hit. This one connects with my left cheekbone. My head whips to the side, a delicious sizzle of agony racing through my extremities.
But there’s no satisfaction to give him.
Pain doesn’t shut me down.
It wakes me up like a lightning bolt to the heart, reminding me why I’ve spent years fighting to survive in the first place. To hurt. To feel pain. To be unequivocally alive. I’m living for Holly too, and every ounce of agony I can secure further repays my debt to her ghost.
It’s no less than I deserve. A life of immeasurable pain and suffering. Perhaps then, when I ascend the steep slopes into the devil’s lair, he’ll take pity on me and send me straight back up. Doesn’t seem likely though, does it?
“You walk around this place like you own it, but I see through you,” Rick hisses, his spit flying. “You’re worthless.”
Shaking the dizziness from my head, I glare up at him. “You’re right. I’m nothing.”
“Too right!”
“But you know what?” My feet spread into an even stance. “That also means I have nothing to lose.”
When I lunge, Rick tracks the move and attempts to block the blow. Exactly as I knew he would. I pivot at the last second, my Converse-covered feet sliding on the lawn as I land a low punch to his kidney instead.
The air whooshes out of him, choked off by a second punch to his ribcage. As he attempts to cover himself, I switch stances and hit upwards, clipping him straight in his square jaw.
Pain cracks across my knuckles, but he stumbles backwards, a second from falling flat on his backside. I take a moment to enjoy the show. Watching him flail about is fucking hilarious after all his bravado.
“You asked for this!” he bellows.
I shrug nonchalantly. “Do your worst, hot shot.”
With an angry scream, he barrels towards me. I won’t tackle him like I did Lennox. That would be too easy. I want to enjoy this oh-so sweet victory before I bury this son of a bitch once and for all.
Down we go.
Twisting, punching, we’re a violent tangle of limbs. Rick’s legs find my waist, and as I make impact with the ground, he manoeuvres himself on top to straddle me. His triumphant grin only makes me even more giddy.
I feel a hot slick of blood trailing from my mouth, the ache sharpening my awareness. His eyes latch on to the sticky ribbon. As he inspects his handiwork, I fight the urge to buck him off.
“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he leers. “Whores like you belong on their backs.”
“I suppose this is the only way you can get a girl to touch you, huh?”
Fingertips sliding over cold grass, I inch my hand down my oversized tee and into my waistband. He’s far too distracted by peacocking his fragile masculinity to pay any attention to my movements.
“Believe me, I’d need a hell of an incentive to touch you.” He looks over my face with exaggerated disgust. “Who could ever want you?”
“Is that supposed to hurt my precious, girly feelings? Fuck off, Rick.”
He grips my biceps, keeping me pinned. “Not until you learn some damn respect!”
As I’m wrapping my fingers around the handle of my switchblade with full intent to stab him in the liver and be done with this already, the weight pressing into me instantly vanishes.
“Argh!” Rick screeches.
He’s tossed aside like little more than a sack of potatoes, tumbling before landing on the ground with a pained curse. In his place, a slim but wiry shadow blots out the winter sun beaming through snow-filled clouds.
The shadow crouches, bringing his midnight-blue, almost black gaze level with mine. His appearance steals the oxygen from my lungs. Such devilishly familiar eyes. A frozen wasteland, bereft of all human emotion and empathy. Nothing but cruelty stares back at me.
I’m sucked into that desolate black hole without warning, despite the years since I first found myself caught in his spider’s web. I couldn’t help it back then; his savagery intrigued me. But now, I know what kind of monster I’m up against.
I won’t survive a second round.
One already broke my soul in half.
“This guy bothering you?” he asks crisply.
“Xander.”
“Hello, Ripley.”
Nothing escapes his all-consuming orbit. Not even the promises I made to myself that if we ever came face to face again, I’d be more than the submissive toy he saw me to be, standing in the way of his grand master plan.
A mere obstacle.
And one he could destroy.
That’s what put me in Xander’s line of fire. It was never personal. Not even sexual. He wanted power, and to get to Holly, he had to eliminate me. Even if that meant reaping my soul and devouring it whole, like a fucking appetiser.
It was just one night.
One fateful, agonising, fucking liberating night.
That’s all it took to leave her exposed.
“Cat got your tongue, little toy?” He raises a single, platinum-blonde eyebrow. “I wondered when our paths would cross.”
Unable to stand the sight of him looming over me, I ignore Rick’s pained whimpering and clamber to my feet. “I hoped they never would.”
“I bet you did. Have you been hiding from me?”
Yes.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I grind out instead.
Tall and compact, Xander doesn’t pack his threatening prowess in bulk like Lennox does. He’s still ripped beneath his starched polo shirt and jeans, but he could raze entire armies with nothing more than his intelligence and sharp tongue.
Those soulless orbs are framed by long, luscious lashes, a stark contrast to his spotless alabaster skin pulled taut over exaggerated cheekbones and thin lips. He’s beautiful in that ethereal, masculine way only those blessed by the DNA lottery can be.
His hair, kept neat and short, is the purest shade of snow-white. It gleams like pale moonlight. Oh, the fucking irony. How can this walking, talking incarnation of the devil so closely resemble an angel?
And he knows it.
But his victims never do.
“Back off.” I force some steel into my voice. “He’s mine.”
Xander’s brow is still raised. “Were you under the impression that anyone but myself is allowed to steal those exquisite sounds of pain from your tongue?”
Goddamn. Fucking. Psychopath.
“I’ll be giving you no such thing,” I snap back. “Exquisite or otherwise.”
“It seems you’re mistaking me for giving you a choice in the matter.”
It takes all of my willpower to force back a barrage of desire-tinged memories. Wrists throbbing beneath the tight constrict of restraints. Shoulders burning from being pinned, powerless and vulnerable during the hours of torment he inflicted.
I wish I could say that he forced me. But even as I protested and writhed, terrified by his clinical, sadistic approach to sex, a traitorous part of me wanted the pain he was so fascinated by inflicting.
“I’m rather busy right now.” I brush myself off. “Find another time to annoy me.”
Casting Rick’s still-slumped form a disdainful look, Xander lowers his voice. “As enjoyable as watching you bleed is, I don’t take too kindly to others playing with my toys.”
Wiping my split lip with the back of my hand, I narrow my eyes in challenge. Xander stares back for several seconds like he’s waiting for me to cower and obey. Not this time. When I don’t back down, he gestures for me to go ahead.
“But by all means.”
“That’s what I thought,” I mumble.
Turning, I find Rick still on the ground, struggling to catch his breath. Xander may not look the part, but I know how strong he is. Even if he feels no need to advertise it like other men do, he could’ve broken Rick’s back without a smidge of remorse.
Conscious of the iceman himself still watching, I finish pulling my switchblade from its hiding place and flick out the knife. It’s sharp. Glinting. Begging for a drop of blood to embellish its metallic surface. Rick’s eyes widen as he sees me approach.
“Listen, Rip.”
“So where do I belong?” I gesture wildly with the blade. “What was it, hmm? On my back?”
“You can’t do this to me!”
With a cursory glance around, I note the nearby CCTV camera. We’re just out of shot in my usual delivery spot. No one will ever know if I rough him up, especially if I can scare Rick enough to keep his mouth shut.
I place a foot either side of his waist. “No one is coming to save you.”
When he begins to tremble in fear at the blade moving ever closer to him, I lift a foot and smash it down on his face. The satisfying crunch of his nose smashing beneath my shoe is truly a glorious thing.
Blood is a riotous explosion pouring from his busted nose as I peer down at him. Still, it doesn’t sate me. I usually tame this side of myself with the violent outpouring of artistic rage that I inflict upon my canvases. But not today.
Knees bending, I hover over his torso, dragging the sharpened tip of my blade along his clavicle. His t-shirt is flecked with blood beneath the grass stains and mud from his fall. Digging a little deeper, I slice into his skin.
“The only one who needs to learn respect here is you,” I whisper sweetly. “You’ve forgotten who’s in charge here.”
“That’s what y-you th-think,” he splutters. “You’re d-deluded, Ripley.”
Digging it in deeper, I watch his eyes blow wide with pain. “Want to say that again?”
“This… isn’t your institute. You’re just an experiment… Fuck!” He yelps in pain. “Just like the rest of us.”
Hearing Xander shift on his feet behind me, I refuse to let even a crack of concern for Rick’s words show. I’m more than that. Harrowdean needs me. I’m valued here. Important. In control. They’d never successfully run their program without me.
Would they?
“You’re… replaceable,” Rick spits out. “We all are.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rick.”
“No. Like you, I also have nothing to lose.” He smiles through the blood running down his chin.
Repositioning my grip on the switchblade, I stab it down into the earth an inch away from his head. He flinches, his eyes darting to the cool kiss of steel so close to impaling his face.
“Stay away from my business, and keep your mouth shut. Or next time, I won’t miss. Understood?”
“It’s only a matter of time until this whole thing is exposed to the world.” His teeth are stained bright-red. “Priory Lane’s already under investigation. Who will they blame for Harrowdean?”
I hang over him. “Stop. Fucking. Talking.”
“The corporate masks hiding behind their fancy lawyers, or the unhinged nutcase on the ground, peddling drugs for profit?”
Patience expired, I yank the knife from the ground and raise it above my head. Rick yells as it swooshes towards him, burying handle-deep in the soft flesh of his thigh.
“I am not deluded,” I hiss in his face as his screams reach a fever pitch. “This is my kingdom, my institute, and you belong to me.”
“Fucking lunatic! My leg!”
Grasping the switchblade, I drag it out of his thigh with a sick pop. “You slipped and fell, right? Better go and get stitched up. I’d hate for you to bleed out and fail to spread the word that I’m still in charge here.”
After wiping the blade on his t-shirt, I climb off him and inch backwards. Rick presses a shaking hand to the wound in his leg as he wobbles to his feet. With a final filthy glare, he limps away towards the west wing.
My entire body is vibrating with vehement rage. Seeing the trails of blood left in his wake does little to appease me. I rebuilt my life after Holly’s death on pillars of control—choosing Harrowdean, becoming their stooge, discarding everything I believed in for the same job she once did.
I took the deal.
I sacrificed it all.
But am I the one to blame?
Hands clamp down on my shoulders from behind, two steely traps preventing me from fleeing the scene of the crime. The scent of spearmint brushes over me as a soft, cold pair of lips teases the shell of my ear.
“Old Ripley was a delight to break,” Xander murmurs. “But you, little toy? You’re going to be my favourite project of all.”
A sick shiver curls down my spine. “Let go of me, Xan.”
“You know, it was quite the surprise to hear who arranged for us to be admitted into the program before vanishing from Priory Lane. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Fury boils in my gut. “It clearly didn’t work.”
“Oh, but it did.” His tongue flicks out to tease my fluttering pulse point. “They broke us, dearest Ripley. Every day for months. But that’s what you wanted, right?”
“I dreamed about it every night,” I spit, acutely aware of his tongue lashing my skin. “I imagined you bleeding and in pain. Locked in a cell. Cold. Alone. Maybe dead.”
He sucks in a breath at my words. “Did you enjoy your revenge?”
When his teeth scratch my earlobe, sinking in with a sharp bite that feels deep enough to draw blood, I gasp. He’d tear my throat out with his bare teeth if he felt so inclined. Probably without blinking.
“Answer me,” he demands.
My body still remembers its ordeal. Obeying his every command to obtain even an ounce of relief. I’m powerless to stop it from surrendering once more.
“Yes.”
“There’s a good girl,” he purrs.
Slipping a hand into my short hair, he grasps the messy strands then tugs so hard, it causes tears to burn in my eyes. My head is pulled back, exposing my throat to his fingertips. He trails them over my skin, a gentle caress yet full of threat.
“Then you know why I must now repay the favour,” Xander says coolly. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you all over again. And I won’t stop until you’re begging for death.”
“I don’t beg for anything. Not anymore.”
“But you will for me.”
I hate him so fucking much, it’s searing my insides like I’ve swallowed acid. Yet I can’t convince my body to respond. Nor does it stop the hot flush of want from curling in my core. I know just how it feels to be broken by him.
“Your institute won’t protect you from me, Ripley. I’ll take everything you’ve built here and burn it all to the ground long before I let you escape again.”
Releasing my hair and throat, his hot breath vanishes from my ear. I stand stock-still, paralysed by too many conflicting emotions to make any logical decisions.
“Run. You know I love the chase.”
As much as I want to stand my ground, defend the life I’ve spent rebuilding to never be that weak, submissive girl again, she never truly left me. Not beneath the shields and defences I’ve constructed.
So I run.