Chapter 51
NOVA
Iwas shoved into a warm seat in what I assumed was a car—a seat that had a hand that reached around my torso, holding me in place. Another hand removed my hood.
There was already a cloth gag in my mouth, but that second hand covered my scream too as the doors closed and the car sped off.
“Shh, shh, shh.” Warm breath tickled my ear. A hard erection pressed against my ass. “Now how wet are you, angel?”
My arms flailed, trying in vain to elbow Roman and squirm out of his grasp. Sitting in his lap made me feel disgusting, violated, especially when I was still wearing a short satin slip.
Angry, helpless tears pricked my eyes as I screamed bloody murder into my gag.
“What about now?”
Something cool and metal dragged against my neck. I glanced down.
A sleek black gun was pointed at my chin.
I stopped moving or making sound. Roman slowly removed the cloth from my mouth.
I’d never seen a gun up close before. Hunting rifles back in Tennessee, sure, but not guns expressly designed to shoot people.
“Good girl,” Roman purred, petting my hair.
My gaze darted to the two men in the front seats.
They stared straight ahead, unspeaking. They showed no reaction to what was happening at all, the same as Jayne.
I’d been right about her and her so-called spiritual community all along.
Maybe there were regular people, like Capricorn, involved in the lower levels of the cult.
But the top was full of monsters who poisoned the bunch.
When Roman lowered the gun, I finally caught my breath enough to speak. “Are you going to kill me?” I asked.
“I hope not. That would be wasteful.”
What the fuck?
“What about Lorelei?”
“What about her?” he asked with mild irritation, as if bored with the subject change.
“She thinks you’re going to marry her,” I whispered.
He snorted. “And her psychosis is my problem how?”
I slowly shook my head. “You don’t care about her at all,” I said, my voice small as I lamely repeated the obvious.
“Not really. She was fun at first. I enjoyed her wildness, but the light in her eyes was a ruse. At the end of the day, she is an inherently empty person. Worthless, even. Her servitude is cheap and given freely, and I find that pathetic.”
My heart squeezed in my chest, breaking for Lorelei. “Why did you keep seeing her then?”
“Well, I was going to discard her, but then you entered the picture, which renewed my interest. She became a useful tool after that, seeing as she knows you best.”
In other words, Roman only kept Lorelei around because of me, and he was only interested in me because of Wes. God, I should’ve listened to Wes that day in the diner. I should’ve stayed the fuck away from this web of sociopaths.
But then what about Lorelei? I knew Roman was an asshole. I did not think he was waving around guns and kidnapping people.
“So you’ll let her go now?” I asked, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt.
Roman paused, as if considering. “She’s a little too far gone for that. And she still may prove useful in keeping you in line.”
I swallowed. My blood ran cold.
“Anyway, I’m done talking about this. And you aren’t to worry. You’ll never have to decide anything for yourself ever again.”
“Until you get bored of me too.”
Roman laughed, resting the gun on my thigh. His lips were back at my ear. “Then don’t be boring.”
He went back to stroking my hair as my stomach twisted into knots.
“Besides, the light in your eyes is real,” Roman said as the car pulled up to a massive, five-story townhouse.
He didn’t say anything more. He led me inside the urban mansion, covered by the darkness of this winter night. My teeth chattered, as I had no protection from the chill in my slip.
I considered screaming, but the gun pressed against my lower back kept me quiet. The way Roman spoke about Lorelei made it clear he was capable of evil, and his money and influence would ensure he’d never have to face any consequences.
My body trembled from adrenaline and the cold as I took the steps down to a basement level, Roman behind me.
What were my options here? Was I dead either way? Would it be better to be shot now than to be tortured and then shot later when he tired of me?
I wanted to live. God, I wanted to live.
With a gun to my back, this sentiment had never been more glaring.
Lorelei’s words to me before she packed up and left had only stung as badly as they did because there was a grain of truth to them. Before The Circle, I had been going through the motions, more focused on surviving than living.
And after Wes, I’d been too heartbroken to realize how alive I’d felt since this summer.
Maybe it had been the love or my erotic awakening or the book or the damn cult—likely a combination of all those things—but even through the money and career stress, it felt like I was truly living for the first time since my first year in New York City.
I’d told Jayne my dreams were dead to hurt her, but that wasn’t true. I knew there was more life out there for me to live. Beyond Wes, beyond this book, beyond The Circle.
But as the cool metal pushed me toward another door and Roman removed a key from his pocket, I realized there was a very real possibility I would die in this sinister, glamorous maze instead.
The door creaked open, and I was faced with a dimly lit room—a wine cellar.
And the first thing I saw was Wes.
His eyes found mine immediately. His throat bobbed, tension baked into his every feature.
Just when I thought I understood everything, another fracture fissured in my rapidly changing reality.
Wes hadn’t responded to Hudson because Roman had kidnapped him.
“I’m so sorry, Nova,” Wes said. His voice was tortured, gruff as he stepped forward slowly. “If I had known—”
“I didn’t give you permission to speak,” Roman snapped.
I nodded slightly to Wes, acknowledging him and his words. Neither of us had realized how dangerous Roman was, and that had been a stupid, fatal mistake.
My eyes brimmed with tears. Seeing Wes again, even after everything that happened, still soothed something deep inside me.
“Not another step either,” Roman ordered Wes as he pushed me down the steps. “In fact, go stand in the corner of the room.”
I nearly lost my balance, but Roman grabbed me before I fell. He pulled me to the other side of the table as Wes glared at everywhere on my body Roman touched.
Roman reached under the table for a locked trunk. He slowly started pulling items out.
Restraints. A propane torch. A…
My breath caught. I took three steps back. “No.”
My eyes met Wes’s, his hazel irises bleeding fear and anguish. His fists were clenched at his side.
All three of us stared at the branding iron: Wes and I in horror, and Roman in pure delight and satisfaction.
Two notable lines from the piece of classic kinky literature I’d read over the summer rose to the forefront of my mind.
O will not be tattooed.
You’re to be branded.
The urge to throw up was back in full force. My vision tunneled, my sense of gravity tilting as I clutched the table and struggled to breathe.
“The family crest will look so good on your perfect, fair skin,” Roman said. “Don’t you think, brother?”
Wes didn’t speak.
“Speaking permission is granted,” Roman said cheerfully, as if pleased by our obedience.
My mind raced, trying to find a way out of this. Could Wes and I take him out without getting shot?
Wes looked exhausted but unharmed. We stared at each other for three long beats. The best plan I could come up with at the moment was to stall.
“Did you brand Lorelei?” I managed to ask, wincing in preparation for the answer.
“She begged me to,” Roman said.
I shut my eyes, and a choked sound escaped my lips. I remembered her declaration that she had given an eternal vow of service.
And her PicWave caption, which had read: I am ready to merge with eternity, with my God, with The Circle.
The Graves family crest was encircled in an ouroboros, the symbol of The Circle.
“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Roman said.
“Think of me as the director. We have our cameras.” He gestured to the space around us, where I presumed hidden cameras recorded everything.
“We have our perfect damsel in distress.” He grabbed my throat, yanking me back against his chest. “And we have our obvious villain, cast impeccably.” He waved a hand at Wes.
Wes’s tattooed knuckles were clenched tight, a vein in his neck pulsing.
“Oh, and we have Wes’s comprehensive plans for a kink club in the city, all in his handwriting,” Roman continued.
“After all, Archer and Jayne, the city’s favorite sex club power couple, were approached by an anonymous investor who gave them cash for the church and funded this exciting erotic venture.
He never showed his face. I wonder, do we know anyone else with a penchant for anonymous investing? ”
Wes’s jaw ticked.
“Except I know the truth,” I spat.
“Aw, that’s a cute thought,” Roman whispered, his hand tightening around my throat. “Except, who would believe someone brainwashed enough to let herself get branded by her dominant lover? I’m not the Graves brother you’ve been seen with at parties and dates for the past six months, now am I?”
Cold dread pooled in my stomach.
“Besides, none of that really matters so long as my puppets both behave themselves,” Roman said as Wes continued to glower, his gaze stuck on the hand around my throat.
“I will have eyes on you twenty-four hours a day forever, angel. You’ll be tracked, monitored, and controlled more meticulously than even your wildest fantasies. And as for you.”
Roman waved his gun at Wes, causing me to tense and hold my breath.
“You will never touch Nova again after tonight. In fact, you’ll never even see her again. Unless, of course, you’d like to view her in a casket.”
I closed my eyes again, helplessness taking over as I tried and failed to see a way out of the twisted, dystopian reality Roman was painting for us.
When I opened them, Wes was ghostly pale.