Chapter 27 Fox
TWENTY-SEVEN
FOX
Ihadn’t seen E in weeks.
I didn’t know if it had been weeks, but I knew it had been a long time. There were no windows here, so I had no concept of time except that it felt like an eternity. I felt like a broken record with the thoughts, but it was all I had.
Dante Church was a monster.
But his friend Asylum terrified me more, and that was saying something.
They certainly put me through my paces. In the beginning, I believed Dante wanted to help me because I was so fucking hopeful for anything.
After days of torture, I was beginning to think that maybe he was enjoying himself. E had told me it was all psychological down here.
My body would beg to differ, though, because I was torn to fuck beneath Dante’s brand of terror.
It didn’t help that another man had tortured me during my stay. That man didn’t speak. He cut and burned me on repeat until I’d pass out, then he’d wake me and do it again.
I assumed it was because Dante and Asylum had been MIA recently. Days, maybe a week, had passed since I’d last seen them. In their absence, the big piece of shit came in and tortured me.
Fucking touched me. Laughed. Taunted me.
If I could get loose, I’d kill him and make him eat his own cock, then I’d save E.
I didn’t know how I was still alive. Maybe because Dante didn’t cut as deep as he could have to end it all when he was here and had called dibs.
Asylum took his time as he ran his fork along my cheek before pressing it into my skin. Maybe he was the one with dibs.
I had no fucking idea.
I hated it here.
I wanted to die to save Rosalie before. Now I simply wanted to die.
I had no idea whether my girl was alive or not.
Whether Cole or Enzo had made it out. I assumed they did, but since no one came looking for me and E, I was beginning to have my doubts.
I refrained from asking, but I was about to just kill what little bit of hope I had left as I was tied back to the metal chair in the same torture room as always.
I hated the smell in there. Like death. Like torment.
Blood stained the walls and floor. The lights were too bright, so they really illuminated the madness around me.
Heavy footsteps sounded out in the room, and I sent up a silent prayer that it was Dante and not the wordless prick that had been sent in the last few sessions.
It was worse.
Everett Church.
“Fox Evans. The man of the hour. Mr. Heisman himself,” Everett proclaimed, smiling widely at me as the door banged closed behind him.
I swallowed hard and stared up at him.
“Where’s Ethan?” I demanded, my voice rough as I tried to twist out of the bindings. A hiss of pain escaped me as my shoulder screamed in protest, but I’d tear my fucking arm off if it meant I could get E out of here.
“He’s around,” Everett said as if we were just discussing the weather. “Not giving me everything I want.” He smirked. “But he does give some things. He’s an excellent lay. Such a tight asshole. He comes like you wouldn’t believe.”
I snarled and fought harder. I would kill him. I’d kill this motherfucker.
Everett let out a booming laugh.
“You want me to stop fucking your best friend?” Everett stepped closer and gripped my face tightly. “Tell me the recipe for sugar.”
“It’s one cup of fuck you.” I spit on him.
He punched me so hard in the face that my ears rang. I spat the blood onto the dirty floor and glared at him.
He gestured behind me, and four men entered the room, Ethan between two of them.
He was beaten to shit and looked half dead. They had his arms restrained behind his back, and his shirt was missing.
“E! Ethan!” I choked out, desperate to get to him. Fighting against the bindings was useless, though.
Two more men came in, bringing some strange table contraption with them. This couldn’t be going anywhere good.
“E,” I rasped.
“F-Fox.” E’s bottom lip wobbled, his barely open eyes filled with tears.
“I-It’s OK,” I rasped. “It’s OK.”
Tears dripped down his cheeks as he stared back at me, so much fear in his green eyes, my heart broke just a little more.
One of the men pushed a needle into my vein, the burning ache of the drug searing through my body.
I could hear Ethan sobbing softly in the distance as I hung my head, so much fog filling my brain.
Fighting wasn’t an option. Not when my limbs were made of lead. My remaining clothes were taken off, and I was moved from the chair and placed on my stomach on the small table. The men wasted no time strapping me down, so I was bent over on my knees and unable to move with my ass in the air.
“Don’t. Don’t hurt him,” E wept. “Please…”
“Here is what’s going to happen,” Everett said calmly.
“I’m going to hurt him until you give me what I want.
And then I’m going to hurt him some more because I think he’s going to be a lot of fun.
Then I’m going to hurt you, my sweet Luka.
If you give me what I want, I’ll make the hurting less.
I may even put sweet Fox out of his misery. ”
“No,” E choked. “P-Please.”
“Don’t fucking tell him anything, E. Nothing. He’s going to fucking hurt us anyway. Don’t give in,” I garbled out. “Let him keep fucking trying. Fuck you, Everett. Fucking prick. Fuck you!”
Blazing heat surged through my body as something came down hard on my back. I screamed through the pain, Ethan’s cries even louder as he begged Everett for mercy.
None came.
Only more hits. More screams.
I was grateful for the drugs because they dulled a lot of the agony.
I wasn’t sure how long the torture went on for. After a hot iron was pressed to my wrist and I was branded with a number, I passed out, only to be woken by the drugs wearing off and more pain.
Ethan had lost his voice by then, but he hadn’t broken and given up the sugar.
I didn’t want him to.
I’d rather die than this prick take E’s work.
“You’re fucking wearing my patience thin,” Everett snarled, striking me again. My skin tore, and more blood blossomed out, but I only ground my teeth, doubling down.
Fuck him. Let him kill me.
More strikes. The blood was running freely from my body. I’d likely not be able to walk for days.
The hot iron was pressed against my feet, making everything that much worse.
I wept, continuing to take it.
Vomit erupted from me as the pain intensified. Everett pulled back, giving me a moment of reprieve.
I turned my head to look at E after a long moment, who stared back at me on his knees, his face a mess of tears and blood because they struck him too when I wouldn’t talk or break.
I heard a zipper come down.
“No,” I groaned, knowing what was going to happen next. “E, no. P-Promise. You don’t fucking give in.”
He stared back at me, his green eyes filled with so much pain it was killing me.
“Close your eyes,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “It’s OK. Close them, E. I-I’ll be OK. P-Promise. Go to your happy place. I’ll meet you there.”
He did as I told him, his chest heaving through his panic attack.
I didn’t scream when Everett hurt me. When he pushed into me and robbed me. Ethan didn’t need my trauma.
I simply closed my eyes, praying for death to find me soon.
“Fox,” Dante’s deep voice sounded out as he stepped in front of me, dressed in all black, days after Everett.
I stared up at him through my swollen eyelids.
I wasn’t nearly healed enough to go another round.
I’d been given time off from my beatings.
I assumed it was so I’d heal a little before they began again.
I couldn’t even fucking walk. My feet were fucked right now.
Ugly blisters covered them. I knew there was no compassion when a doctor was sent in to bandage me and dose me with God knew what.
It was a matter of keeping me alive for the next round. For the next fucking.
I wanted to throw up just thinking about it. In fact, I’d spent every night since curled into a tight ball in my small, cold room on an old mattress with no blanket. I cried and cried until I’d fall asleep, then wake and do it all over again.
Dante studied me, no emotion on his face.
“Will you kill me today?” I asked, my voice low.
“No,” he replied just as softly. “If I wanted you dead, you’d have died two weeks ago.”
“Is that how long it’s been?”
“Yes.”
“Is E… Is he still alive?”
“He is in much the same position as you are,” he replied. “Wanting to die. He, however, is suffering far greater since you both wouldn’t give up the recipe during your last encounter with the devil.”
“Why?” I rasped. “He’s done nothing wrong—”
“My father wants his sugar recipe. You know this. He refuses to give it up. So he’s being fucked on repeat and beaten. Drugged.
Bile burned my throat at his words.
E….
FUCK.
“I have to get out of here. He needs me. HE FUCKING NEEDS ME! Why don’t you fucking help him!”
“What would you have me do? Bend over and take my father’s cock for him?”
I ground my teeth as I glared at him.
“You’re his heir. Fucking do something. Please. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything you want. I will give you anything. Get E out of here. Take my life instead if you need a life. Just… anything.”
He surveyed me for a long moment before grabbing another chair from along the wall and placing it in front of me. He sat in it and leaned forward, staring at me. His eyes were so intensely green.
My Rosie’s eyes.
Tears prickled my eyes as I stared back at him.
“Dante, please. Rosalie is your sister. She loves Ethan. Please. Please don’t hurt her. Let him go. Let him return to her.” I was willing to try to play on his emotions if it would free E.
“Let me tell you a story,” he said softly, his eyes still fixed on me, ignoring my plea.
Fuck, he was a tough son of a bitch. It was like he had no emotions at all. Detached. Not… human.
Was this what insanity looked like?
I shivered as I stared back at him.
“I have a girlfriend,” he started. “My specter. I’m sure you’re thinking she must be fucking insane to be with me, huh?”
I swallowed. “Is she?”