Chapter Twenty-Eight Aria
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Aria
A scream tore out of me as shards of glass and fragments of splintered wood blew into the room and rained onto the bed, landing like tiny spikes against my exposed flesh.
The alarm screamed. So loud that I couldn’t make sense of where all the sounds were coming from.
Pelting and piercing.
Chaos and confusion reigned, and I tried to orient myself to what was happening. To what had jerked us from Faydor and to an even more terrifying reality.
Pax scrambled to cover me in an effort to hide me within the darkness that shrouded the room.
“Aria!” he shouted over the disorder. “Are you—” His plea was clipped off when he was suddenly yanked away, taking the covers with him.
It left me whipping around on the bare bed, blinking into the mayhem and trying to process the obscured, darkened scene.
A cold chill snaked through the frigid air. It had nothing to do with the cold wind that gusted in through the broken window.
It was the evil that clouded the room.
Like dipping into Faydor.
Drenched in the sickness that curled and wept.
“Aria!” Pax shouted.
I gasped and flew up to sitting, peering through the hazy light.
Fear slicked through my consciousness when I found Pax.
I was barely able to make out his silhouette.
But he was there.
On his knees on the floor, next to the bed. Pale, pale eyes wide in the night, nearly glowing white with fury.
Only, his arms were pinned behind him by a man wearing a ball cap.
“Aria!” Pax roared against the restraint as he thrashed, trying to break free and get back to me.
Horror ripped through me when I saw the man restraining him lift a metal rod, and my heart seized when he brought it down hard against the side of Pax’s head.
The crack ricocheted against the walls.
Another scream ripped out of me when Pax slumped face-first to the ground.
“No, no, no, no,” I begged into the mayhem, rasps of terror cleaving from my lungs.
I scrambled to move.
To do something.
My mind whirring as I tried to figure out how I could get to him.
How I could help him.
How I could fight off the man, who towered over Pax where he’d fallen to the floor.
All while I prayed and prayed that Pax was okay. That he would get up.
Fight for himself.
“Pax.” It clogged in a stagnant cry at the base of my throat when he didn’t move.
A riot of pounding feet resounded on the opposite side of the door, crashing down the hall.
Timothy and Dani.
I tried to shout to warn them. To warn that there was a man right there who was turning toward the door to stop them.
But I was snatched by the ankle, caught unaware.
My attention flew to my left.
Panic pierced through me.
There was a second man in the room.
Alarm dumped into my system, hot adrenaline that flooded my veins and stirred me into venom. I tried to kick him off. Flailing and twisting, warring to free my ankle from his brutal hold.
He yanked me toward the end of the bed.
“You little bitch. Whore. Didn’t you know we’d be coming for you? He’ll be pleased, and his rewards are generous.” He leaned over to hiss the last word into my ear, his sickness oozing out with the vile sound.
My spirit screamed, revolted by the stench of his malignity rather than compelled to heal it.
All hope was lost for his soul. His being was fully decayed and defiled.
The door blew open, and I found a shout, a scraping of desperation that I heaved from my throat. “Timothy, get back!”
But the man’s rod was already coming down. It connected with the top of Timothy’s shoulder and dropped him to his knees.
Roaring, he doubled over in pain.
And I could hear Dani sobbing, her cries as she rushed for him. She slid onto her knees at his side.
“Timothy. Oh my God. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
Her confusion was thick as her attention swept into the havoc that seized the room.
Dismay widened her eyes when she saw the second man ripping me from the bed, though I tried to stop him, my fingers digging into the mattress, but I couldn’t hold on.
He jostled me around and pinned my back to his chest, his massive arm as heavy as a steel band around my waist. The other he wrapped around my throat, that hand clinging to a knife.
Still, I clawed and kicked and struggled to break free.
To fight.
To get to my family.
“Aria,” Dani wheezed as the man started to haul me back toward the window.
I flailed, kicking my feet in the air.
But it was no use.
Nothing I could do.
The man was fully overpowering me as he ducked us out through the opening. A jagged piece of shattered glass hanging from the broken frame cut into the back of my arm as he dragged me through.
A scream streaked up my throat.
Torment and a plea.
A meaty hand clamped down over my mouth to mute me just as the second man climbed through the opening behind us.
“You might as well not fight it, because you already know what’s coming for you.”
“No. No. You can’t. You can’t listen to him. You don’t understand what’s going to happen if he wins.” But the words were nothing more than garbled pleas issued into his palm. Garbled pleas that continued to pour out of me as he hauled me across the yard toward a pickup truck idling out front.
Three more men were in the bed, each taken over by the salacious. High-pitched calls of their deranged excitement escaped their mouths.
The one who had me tore open the passenger door, the knife pressed up under my jaw when he dragged me onto his lap, then slammed the door shut.
The other man jumped into the driver’s side, and the one holding me shouted, “Move!”
The driver gunned it, the tires squealing as he peeled out onto the road. Houses whipped by as he sped through the sleeping neighborhood, the night so thick and dark it didn’t feel real.
It was as if the blackened sky had drooped down low, cloaking the earth in a deformed canopy of debasement. Dark, heavy clouds began to move, churning in a toil of wickedness.
A crack of lightning blistered through, and the man who held me captive muttered in my ear, “It’s time.”
While my spirit moaned, weeping as it called out, Pax.