59. Victor
Victo r
“Run!” I grab Clara’s hand and we bolt through the open door of the nearest room. I know, logically, that this is all a show. Fake. But my instincts and my alpha aren’t getting that message at all.
I slam the door behind us and throw the lock just as the thing from the hallway slams into it from the other side, scratching, moaning and clawing.
Clara’s gone from holding my hand to clinging to my arm, fingers tight enough that I know I’ll have bruise marks tomorrow. I won’t do anything to discourage her. This is the first contact she’s allowed since the asthma attack.
Tentatively, I lay my hand over hers on my bicep.
She doesn’t pull away, and that fragile connection terrifies me more than any of the insane “patients” in this place.
At least until the same woman from the hallway blinks into existence in the far corner of the room.
My heart stops. How the hell can she even see through all that makeup?
“Shit!” I haul Clara with me through another door.
This room’s worse. Too clean. Sterile. It looks like a regular doctor’s office. Except for the man behind the desk. The one in the white coat. The one with the perfect hair… and the deep, bleeding slit across his throat.
The lights flicker. The whole office shudders . Darkness swallows everything before a black light clicks on, painting the walls in a sickly glow. Thick rivulets of black blood ooze from the ceiling, dripping in slow, obscene lines.
A d eep, gong-like sound reverberates through the room. The doctor’s lolling head snaps upright, making that wet, squelching noise that crawls under my skin. More blood gushes from the slit in his neck.
Clara whines a small, instinctive omega sound and my alpha takes over.
I pull her tight against my side, shocked when she doesn’t resist. Her arms wrap around my middle, her body molding to mine.
Her warmth and scent are enough to make me forget, just for a moment, where we are. Then the room blackens.
Absolute darkness.
I can feel all of her. Knees bumping mine, fists clenched in my shirt, her nose buried against my chest. My alpha purrs at her nearness.
Which is why when a cold, wet hand slides against the back of my neck, I completely lose the dignity I’ve been clinging to and yell. It’s a manly yell. Definitely not as high-pitched as I think it is.
Clara screams at my shout.
A hot, feminine breath brushes my ear. “You’re next.”
I scoop Clara up without thinking, her feet dangling as I carry her away from the voice.
A light snaps on across the room. An elevator, one I swear wasn’t there before, stands open. I don’t care where it goes. Anywhere is better than here.
We sprint inside, still tangled together. I hit the only button. The elevator jerks into motion, groaning downward. I ease back slightly, but she keeps her face pressed into my chest. I hook my fingers under her chin, tilting gently until her eyes peek up at me.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods and tries to pull away, but I hold her there, my arm snug at her waist. Her eyes widen.
“Please,” I say quietly. “I’m so, so sorry, Clara. I— ”
The elevator lurches hard, almost toppling us. I brace one hand against the wall, my other arm locking her close again. She whimpers into my chest, and my alpha aches with the need to keep her there.
The doors creak open onto a vast, filthy basement. Bloody, shuffling patients crowd every inch, all turning toward us at once.
From the back, a man in a lab coat lets out a piercing scream and charges, scalpel raised high.
Clara trembles in my arms. My alpha demands I meet him head-on. My rational mind reminds me that it’s all a show. If I punch this guy, I’ll be arrested. Worse, I'll scare her away again.
So I compromise. I spin Clara so her back’s against the elevator wall, shielding her with my body. A rush of cold air. Then… nothing.
The doors close and open again. Fluorescent light floods in.
We’re staring at a gift shop. Halloween props. T-shirts.
Bram, Jack, and Dagan are waiting, trying, and failing, to hide their smirks at whatever’s written all over my face. Clara leans under my arm, sighing out relief. Her body softens, and I keep her steady until she finds her feet.
“Welcome back from beyond insanity!” the “doctor” says in his gruff announcer voice.
I untangle from Clara. Being that close to her has my alpha pacing inside me.
We’re herded to a viewing area where the guy plays clips from our run. Clara breaks into a belly laugh, and I can’t help smiling, even though my own reactions are… less dignified.
They show moments from the others’ trip too. Jack jerking when something whispers in his ear, Dagan wide-eyed the entire time, Bram shouting “ Shit shit shit! ” when the slit-throat doctor comes to life.
The n ours again, those tight, unexpected moments where she’s in my arms. I glance at her, but she’s watching with that faraway look, and my chest aches. What if I can’t ever fix what I broke?
“We appreciate you joining us. Please leave us a review. Every star helps,” the fake doctor says, turning to leave.
Clara stops him. “We saw a clip from every room we visited, but not the basement. Why not? That place was insanely realistic.”
The man frowns. “The basement?”
My stomach drops. I know exactly what he’s about to say.
“We don’t use the basement. You should have gone straight from the lab to here. That elevator doesn’t go to the basement.”
Clara lets out a nervous giggle. “What?”
But he’s already turning away. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
Another group steps off the elevator, and he goes to greet them.