Chapter 9 Dorian
Dorian
Josh was quiet after coming down from his orgasm, and not the soft, content kind of quiet he usually slipped into when he was boneless and satisfied, half asleep against me.
This was different.
He lay on his stomach beside me, one cheek pressed into the mattress, breathing raggedly. His hair was damp at the temples and the base of his neck, and his body was still warm and flushed.
I lay on my back for a minute, catching my breath, staring up at the ceiling.
God, I loved wrecking him.
But the longer the silence stretched, the more a small knot started forming in my chest.
Josh was usually begging for attention by this point.
Now he just… lay there quietly.
Too fucking quiet.
I shifted closer and draped an arm loosely over his waist, pulling him against my side. “You good?” I asked.
He nodded almost immediately. “Yeah.”
The answer came a little too fast.
And his voice sounded… wrong.
Subtle, but wrong.
Not sleepy.
Not relaxed.
Tight.
Something cold slipped down my spine. I rolled onto my side so I could see his face. He was already looking at me, his eyes wide with fear.
My stomach dropped.
He didn’t speak. Instead, he mouthed something silently, “There’s someone in here.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid. Adrenaline slammed into my bloodstream, but I willed myself not to move, not to tense.
I didn’t even let my expression change.
Because if there was someone else in the room, the worst thing we could do was give it away.
So instead I let my hand drift slowly up Josh’s side in what probably looked like lazy aftercare, brushing my fingers over his ribs. “Sure you’re okay?” I murmured casually.
Josh swallowed. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Just tired.”
His eyes flicked briefly toward the wall above the bed.
Then back to me.
I studied him carefully, and without breaking the faux relaxed vibe, I mouthed back, “You saw them?”
Josh gave the smallest possible nod. Barely a movement.
Then he mouthed another word, “Reflection.”
His eyes lifted again.
This time, I followed the movement.
Above the headboard hung a large framed piece of abstract artwork—black and silver brushstrokes sealed behind glass.
Reflective glass.
Enough to catch movement.
Enough to show someone hiding if you looked at the right angle.
My pulse slowed—not because I was calmer, but because now my brain had shifted gears.
Josh’s eyes stayed locked on mine. Waiting.
Trusting me to handle it.
So I smiled softly and brushed my thumb along his hip. “Come here,” I murmured gently, like I was just pulling him closer to cuddle.
Inside, every sense I had was sharpening, but outside, my arm stayed draped loosely around Josh’s waist, fingers brushing lazily along his side while I let out a quiet breath, the picture of post-sex ease.
Josh’s fingers slid into mine, his grip tight.
I squeezed once in reassurance before letting his hand slip free.
“Hang on,” I said. “I’ll grab a towel.”
He nodded, keeping his face carefully neutral even when his eyes were clouded with terror.
I rolled off the bed and stood, stretching my arms over my head like I was working out a kink in my shoulders.
Everything had to look normal.
The bathroom door sat a few feet to the right of the tall bookshelf in the corner of the room.
Exactly where Josh’s eyes had flicked earlier.
I bent down casually and grabbed Josh’s belt lying on the floor. The leather slid through my fingers as I looped it once around my hand, testing the weight of it.
Not much, but it would do.
My other hand slipped into my pocket, fingers closing around the familiar shape of the small folding knife I carried everywhere. Again, not much, but still, I straightened and started toward the bathroom.
I stopped just before the doorway.
From here, I could still see Josh sitting on the bed behind me.
Still see the bookshelf from the corner of my eye.
Slowly, I turned my head.
The man was already looking at me, wedged behind the bookshelf like a trapped animal.
Mills.
Fuck, how had I missed him when I looked around? I had been too focused on Josh’s ass.
His eyes were wild as he realized I’d seen him.
We both remained silent, just staring at each other.
I noticed his breathing was shallow and his skin had been leeched of all color.
Thinking it through, I was impressed he’d managed to get himself into such a tight spot.
When they’d been made to run, both of them had still had the knives from the first game lodged in their skin.
He’d either removed them, which would result in him slowly bleeding out, or he still had them in, and they were being forced deeper into his body from the pressure of the shelf.
Mills swallowed hard when he saw I wasn’t looking away. “I—” His voice cracked. He tried again, whispering urgently. “Listen… I won’t say anything.”
I stayed where I was, leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door. Behind me, Josh moved on the bed.
“I won’t tell anyone what I saw,” Mills continued quickly.
“I won’t go to the police. I swear. I’ll disappear.
You’ll never hear from me again.” He was shaking now, words spilling out faster and faster.
“You two came in here instead of hunting us. You didn’t go looking for anyone.
You locked the door. So—so clearly you don’t want to do this either.
” His eyes flicked toward Josh. “Right? Y-you were the one earlier who was against all this.”
I glanced back at Josh, who’d grabbed one of the pillows, and dragged it across his lap, covering himself before he sat up.
“Please,” Mills begged hoarsely. “You must have come in here because you didn’t want to hurt anyone. So why not just… help me leave?”
Josh was quiet for a moment, then asked softly, “Could we..?” He pushed the pillow aside and carefully swung his legs off the bed, hands shaking as he grabbed his pants from the floor and slid them back on. “I mean…” he said, voice uncertain. “He’s right. We weren’t planning on hunting them.”
Mills’s eyes lit with desperate hope. “Yes—exactly,” he rushed. “Exactly. You don’t have to do this.”
Josh stood and buttoned his jeans. “I don’t like all the bloodshed,” he admitted quietly.
His gaze lifted to mine.
I held his eyes, then, very subtly, I shook my head once.
The message was simple.
He’s not leaving this room alive.
Josh stared at me for another second, expression unchanging. He already knew what I had to do. And I think he was helping.
I turned toward the man behind the bookshelf again. “Alright,” I said calmly. “We’ll help you.”
Mills’s shoulders sagged with relief so fast it was almost painful to watch. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Oh my God, thank you—”
“Come out,” I said. “Or do you need help? Looks like you’re in there tight.”
“I-I got it.” He hesitated only a second before awkwardly shifting, trying to pull himself free from behind the shelf. When he finally slipped free, I couldn’t stop the small wince that tugged at my face.
The knives were still there, and each movement made the handles shake.
He took a step toward the door. “Thank you,” he said again, voice raw.
He didn’t even see me move.
One second, I was standing beside the bathroom door.
The next, I was behind him.
The belt snapped tight across his throat.
Mills choked in shock, hands flying up instantly to grab at the leather digging into his neck.
“What—” The word came out strangled.
I twisted the belt tighter and dragged him backward.
We hit the floor hard.
He thrashed, heels scraping uselessly against the hardwood as he clawed at the belt with shaking fingers.
But he was already weak from too much blood lost.
Too much damage had already been done.
His nails scrabbled across the leather, trying to wedge space between the belt and his throat.
I leaned back, pulling harder.
“Shhh,” I murmured near his ear. “I promise this is an easier death than any of the others would’ve given you.”
The fight drained out of him faster than I expected, and his hands dropped from the belt, twitching weakly against his chest.
A few more seconds…
Then his body went limp.
I kept up the pressure for another minute, just to be sure.
When I finally released him and pushed his limp body to the side, his face had gone purple, and his eyes were bloodshot and bulging.
Josh was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes squeezed shut.
I rose from the floor and walked over slowly. “Are you okay?” As I reached him, I held his head in my hands and cradled it against my midsection.
A muffled “no” came from him.
I stroked his hair gently, continuing to hold him. “I’m sorry, Josh. You know I had to do it.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t watch, did you?”
Josh shook his head against me, then lifted his face to look at me. “I saw you go for him. Put… put the belt around his neck… But then I closed my eyes.”
“Good, that was smart, angel.”
He sniffled. “I still had to hear it happen, though.”
“I know,” I answered quietly.
A loud knock rattled the door.
“We heard shit going down in here,” Lane called, several other quieter voices surrounding him.
I leaned down to kiss Josh, then rolled my eyes at another round of inpatient knocks.
“I’m coming,” I yelled, helping Josh to his feet. To him, I said, “Keep your eyes closed until I say. We’re going to walk out of the room, okay?”
“Okay,” he said softly, grasping my hands.
“Small steps.”
We walked together across the room. I steered him around the body without comment. When we reached the door, I unlocked it and pulled it open.
Lane stood there with Greyson and Ronan just behind him, both of them already pushing forward before I’d even stepped fully aside.
“Damn it,” Lane sighed, looking at the body with a small frown as Ronan and Grey examined it closer. “I wanted that one.”
I helped Josh into the hallway. “It’s okay. You can open your eyes now.”
He nodded, then cracked them open.
Turning to Lane, I said, “Sorry. We didn’t realize he was in there. Did you get the other one?”
Lane stared into the room at the body. “No, the twins did. They’re still finishing up downstairs. Wait… what do you mean ‘we didn’t realize he was in there’?”
“We were—” Josh shot me a threatening glare. “We were hanging out in there with the door locked and thought we were alone.”
“Oh… so he watched you fuck?”
Josh groaned, the tips of his ears burning, and stiffly walked off in the direction of the dining room.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lane gathered.
“Yeah.”
Ronan, still crouched beside the body, chuckled softly. “Unfortunate timing.”
Greyson brushed a finger over Mills’s throat, tracing the belt burn with an interest only a legit serial killer would show. Creepy dude.
Lane leaned on the doorframe, peering past them again like he was still hoping Mills might magically revive so he could have a turn. “Still,” he muttered. “I was looking forward to that one.”
Ronan stood. “You’ll survive the disappointment.”
Greyson looked over at Lane and said rather casually, “I’ll get you another one, baby.”
Lane batted his lashes at his husband, a smile lighting up his face, then glanced down the hallway toward where Josh had disappeared. “He gonna be okay?”
I leaned one shoulder against the wall. “He’ll be fine.”
Lane hummed skeptically. “He looked a little… pale.”
“Josh doesn’t like the messy parts,” I said simply.
Ronan gave me a small, knowing smile. “It was sweet of you to use strangulation. That’s definitely not your go-to method in training.”
“It was either that or use my pocket knife.”
“Josh is lucky to have you,” Ronan answered sincerely.
I didn’t answer.
Because in truth, I didn’t agree with him.
I was the lucky one.
I headed down the hallway, leaving the three of them to do what they would with the body.
When I stepped into the dining room, Josh was sitting at the long table with Wes, though they were at opposite ends. Wes gave me a nod as I entered, deliberately cast a concerned glance at Josh, then stood and left for the living room.
Josh had both elbows on the tabletop, his hands clasped together in front of his mouth like he was thinking very hard about something.
“Hey,” I said.
“Is it… over?”
“Yeah,” I said, pulling out the chair beside him and sitting down. “Twins got Jeremiah.”
Josh nodded slowly, gaze fixed on the table. “I helped you,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t a question.
I rested my forearms on the table. “You did.”
His fingers tightened together. “I told him we could let him go.”
“I know.”
“I don’t like that I gave him false hope,” he murmured sadly.
I reached over and nudged his knee under the table. “You did it to protect us, angel. Besides, you have to remember the guy was a serial rapist. He doesn’t deserve your guilt.”
Josh stared at me for a moment, then he sighed and dropped his forehead briefly to the table. “I guess you’re right,” he muttered into the wood.
“You did the right thing,” I assured him, scratching his scalp with my nails. He leaned into the touch. “Are you ready to head home?”
He rolled his head to the side to look at me. “Are you? Don’t you want to hang around and swap murder stories or something?”
I huffed out a laugh. “I can do that another day.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin the fun…”
I dropped my head to the table in a similar fashion, my cheek pressed against the wood. “You’re not ruining anything, sweetheart. The others will probably start to leave soon, too. So what do you say? Should we go home and take a long, hot shower?”
Josh studied me for a second, like he was trying to decide whether I was serious. “Yeah,” he finally said. “A shower sounds really good right now.”
“Thought so.”
He pushed himself upright and rubbed his hands over his face. “I feel… gross.”
“Reasonable reaction to the evening,” I said.
Josh chuckled. “I did like it when you made me come, though. Just to be clear.”
“Oh, we’re clear,” I joked, still keeping my voice soft.
We sat there another moment in the quiet dining room. The distant murmur of voices drifted faintly from the living room, punctuated by Lane’s unmistakable laugh somewhere down the hall.
“Okay,” Josh said, pushing his chair back. “Let’s go home.”