Chapter 4 #2
I pick up the fork. My hands still tremble, but I eat. My body pulls everything in fast. I try to slow myself, but hunger takes over. I breathe through the tightness in my chest and keep going.
Sophie pours water into my glass.
Knox leans back in his chair and takes a sip from his cup. “We were just talking earlier about tomorrow’s schedule. Breakfast at seven. Tasks at eight. Outside work if the weather stays clear.”
Asher nods. “If not, indoor rotation.”
Elliot smiles slightly. “You won’t be expected to do anything strenuous yet. Your first few days are for observation.”
I swallow hard. “Observation for what?”
“For how you adjust.”
Their table manners are perfect. Their voices stay relaxed. It creates a false calm that makes my skin crawl.
Sophie tilts her head. “You should know that we eat together every night. It helps with discipline. It also keeps everyone accountable.”
“Accountable for what?” I ask.
That earns a short laugh from Knox. “You’ll learn.”
Asher cuts into his chicken. “We have fun here…You’ll see.”
Fun. The word feels wrong.
Elliot rests his hands on the table. “Brooke, I want this transition to be smooth. You aren’t exactly a prisoner. You’re a participant.”
I hold his stare. “I didn’t volunteer to be here.”
“You’re right,” he chuckles. “But you’re here now so why not make the best of it?”
My palms grow sweaty. I force myself to breathe evenly and eat more.
Sophie speaks again. “There are house rules, but nothing unreasonable.”
I glance at the television mounted on the wall. “Can we watch the news?”
There has to be coverage by now. The Everspring Hotel massacre. 50 something people dead. A public tragedy. A bloodbath. If Seth is still alive, I’ll see it in a headline.
If he isn’t, I’ll know that too.
Elliot shakes his head. “No. Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because tonight is about us,” he says. “We are getting to know you. And you’re getting to know us. The outside world doesn’t matter right now.”
He sets the drink down and picks up the remote. “How about some music instead?”
He clicks it once.
“Goodbye Horses” by Q Lazzarus starts playing over the speakers—smooth, eerie, and instantly unsettling.
I know this song. Silence of the Lambs. The skin suit scene.
They are playing it on purpose. My skin crawls, heart pounding harder with every note, like the room is closing in, like someone is watching and waiting for me to break.
The door opens.
A guard enters and leans down to whisper something in Elliot’s ear. Elliot nods, eyes still on me.
“Bring tonight’s entertainment.”
The guard leaves without a word.
Knox turns slightly in his seat, studying me. “So John. He’s not your blood uncle, is he?”
I shake my head once.
He smirks. “Figured.”
Sophie leans in, elbows on the table. “I heard he trained you. What kind of training was it?”
I don’t respond.
Asher grins. “Was it combat? Or something more… personal?”
The implication is foul. Revulsion crawls through me as I understand exactly what he means. John never touched me like that, but he still fed me to monsters. That line barely matters in a place like this.
None of them look away. That is when I know they aren’t asking to learn. They are asking to see how much I will tolerate.
That’s when I make my decision.
I push my chair back slowly, careful not to give them the satisfaction of panic. The scrape of wood against tile echoes too loud in the room.
Sophie arches an eyebrow, amused. “Where are you going?”
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say flatly, even as my pulse roars in my ears.
Knox’s chair creaks. “We’ll take you.”
I turn and run.
Chair legs shriek behind me. Someone shouts my name, but no one follows. Their footsteps don’t pound behind me. All I hear behind me is the sound of quiet laughter.
They aren’t chasing me. They’re enjoying the show.
I sprint into the hallway, legs already shaking. My shoes slip slightly on the tile, but adrenaline keeps me moving. I turn the first corner blindly, no destination in mind—just escape. Every door I pass is closed, identical, unmarked.
Somewhere behind me, echoing through unseen speakers, “Goodbye Horses” is still playing. It follows me through the halls.
I run harder.
The hall stretches long and sterile. I turn again and find another corridor. I don’t know where I'm going, I only know that I can’t stop.
Then I see the door. It is heavier than the others, framed in metal. I grab the handle and yank. It opens with a groan. The door swings inward, and I freeze.
And it is covered in blood.
The smell hits me first. Then the details follow. A severed leg on the floor. A hand near the dresser. The sheets soaked through, red, wet and clinging to the mattress like glue. A girl’s head—mouth open, eyes wide, rests crooked on the pillow like some fucked-up display.
Then a girl half-naked, bruised, bleeding, stumbles forward from the far side of the room. Her wrists are shredded, skin hanging in strips where restraints have torn her open. Her body is shaking, chest heaving. She barely looks at me before crashing into my shoulder and shoving past.
I stumble back, hit the wall, barely keeping upright as she runs. I want to go after her. I can’t move. I stand there, breathing hard, bile rising in my throat, vision swimming. I can’t look away from the bed. From the head. From the way her mouth is still open like she died mid-scream.
I recover and follow, half from instinct, half from the sick realization that if she knows the way out, I have to stay close. Her footsteps pound against the tile. Blood drips behind her. She nearly slips twice but doesn’t stop. The hallway opens ahead.
And there it is. An exit door. A real one. Metal bar across the center. Narrow window near the top. Freedom.
She sees it and lets out a ragged sound, something between a sob and a gasp and sprints faster. I chase her, breath ripping out of my lungs, chest aching. I'm only a few feet behind. I can see her hand reaching for the bar. She pushes it.
A mechanical click echoes above us.
I don’t understand the sound until I look up. A mounted shotgun drops from the ceiling. It snaps into position directly above her head.
It fires.
Her head comes apart in a violent bloom of meat and bone. The force flings her backward. Blood sheets across the walls and ceiling, spattering the lights. Wet heat slaps my face. Grit hits my cheek. A chunk of skull skips across the tile and spins to a stop near my foot.
Her body hits the floor hard. One leg jerks, then another, then nothing. Blood pours out fast, pooling under her.
A scream rips out of me. I drop to my knees and my hands sink into it, coating my palms and wrists. The smell, iron and flesh scorched, thick enough to taste.
My stomach heaves. My body shakes so hard I can’t push myself up. I stay there, staring at the space where her face had been.
Guards appear from both ends of the hallway. One kneels beside her body. Another begins collecting fragments of her skull. A third brings a bin.
I stare as they sweep up pieces of her, mop her blood off the walls, zip her into a black body bag like it is just another part of the routine.
Elliot strolls into view. Sophie, Knox, and Asher follow. All three look relaxed and unbothered. Like they have seen this before.
“Damn,” Knox chuckles. “There goes tonight’s entertainment.”
Elliot stops in front of me. I am still on the floor. Blood is smeared across my face. My dress is soaked. I can’t stop shaking. He looks down at what is left of the girl, then back at me.
He sighs. “This is what happens when people don’t follow the rules.”
I stare at him, chest heaving, tears burning down my face.
He smiles.
“Welcome to the Manor.”