Chapter 5
Brooke
The water hits my skin and runs red in thick streams.
I stand under the showerhead with both hands pressed to the tile. The blood on me doesn’t move easily. It clings to my arms, my neck, my chest, and the front of the dress I've peeled off. My chest feels tight. Every inhale scrapes the back of my throat.
I scrub my arms until my skin burns, but pieces of her still stay on me. My hair is stiff with dried blood. I run my fingers through it, trying to untangle the knots, but something catches between my fingers. I pull it free.
A tooth sits in my palm.
It is small and white with blood around the root. My breath rips out of me. I drop it into the shower floor and watch the water push it toward the drain. My stomach lurches so hard I have to grip the wall to stay upright.
My vision blurs. The ringing in my ears gets louder. I wipe my face again, but more blood smears across my cheek. My hands shake so badly I can’t hold the soap.
I fold to the tile and press my forehead to it, skin burning against the cold. Water runs over my spine, but none of it matters. I can’t stop seeing Seth. Couldn’t stop thinking about what was growing inside me. Whether this level of fear could hurt it. My palms press against my stomach.
This place is built to overwhelm people just long enough to kill them. That won’t be me.
I wipe my face and breathe through the adrenaline still crawling up my neck. I don’t need everything to make sense right now. I need one opening. If I can separate them, I can dismantle them. If I can turn their confidence against them, I can get out of this.
The bathroom door opens without warning.
Sophie steps inside and pauses, her gaze moving over me like she is assessing damage.
“Wow,” she tsks. “You really went for it.”
I keep washing, dragging my hands over my arms like I can scrub it all off if I just keep going.
She moves farther in, heels clicking against the tile.
“You know,” she goes on, “most people don’t even make it after breaking rule one.”
I swallow hard. “Can I finish washing?”
She doesn’t answer.
Instead, she cuts the water off. Before I can react, her hand wraps around my arm and yanks me forward. My feet slip against the tile as she drags me out from under the shower.
“Stop. Please—”
“You already took more time than the girl before you,” Sophie says flatly. “You get nothing.”
My knees buckle slightly when she lets go. I catch myself against the wall, my hand slamming against the sink to stay upright. Pain pulses under my ribs as I try to steady my breathing.
Sophie straightens, her expression shifting back into something bored.
“Get dressed. Elliot wants to meet with you in the study.”
She turns and walks out.
I stand there for a second, dripping water onto the floor, my body still shaking as the cold settles into my skin.
I grab a towel, and wrap it tight around my body before stepping into the bedroom.
Sophie stands near the bed with a dress draped over her arm. She holds it away from herself like it offends her.
“You destroyed the other one,” she sighs. “Do you know how irritating it is to scrub blood out of silk?”
She shoves the dress into my hands.
“Put it on.”
I pull it over my head.
The fabric stretches tight across my chest, pressing painfully against my breasts that feel heavy and sore. The fit clings in ways I can’t hide.
Sophie notices immediately.
Her gaze drags over me, taking its time. “Hmm, Elliot’s going to clock that the second you step inside.”
Heat climbs up my neck.
She smiles. “He has a habit of breaking things that stand out. And right now, you stand out.”
I turn away to adjust the hem.
“Hurry,” Sophie says. “You already wasted enough time crying in the shower.”
I smooth the dress down with shaking hands. Sophie leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with open contempt.
“Let’s go.”
A knock hits the door. Sophie opens it. Knox and Asher stand in the hall. Both look at me the way someone looks at an animal that needs training.
Knox smirks. “You clean up fast.”
Asher’s eyes stay on my face. “Move. He's waiting.”
They escort me down a staircase I hadn't seen earlier. The Manor feels larger at night. The hallways are colder, the lights dimmer. Every step I take feels heavier as they lead me toward a room with double wooden doors.
Sophie opens one door and gestures for me to enter. Elliot stands inside, leaning against the desk with both hands rested on the edge. He looks calm, collected, and freshly showered. Not a drop of blood anywhere on him.
“Brooke, come in.”
I step inside. My feet feel unsteady. My throat still burns from earlier. Knox, Asher, and Sophie line up behind me, silent. Elliot stays focused on me.
“We need to talk about what happened…Sit.”
I sit in the chair across from him.
He studies my face for a long moment, then nods slightly.
“You can’t escape this. Running is not allowed. Opening unauthorized doors is not allowed. Approaching exits is not allowed.”
His tone is slow and stern, each line delivered with the patience of someone lecturing a stubborn child.
“What happened tonight should make that very fucking clear.”
I clench my hands in my lap. “You told me I’d be safe.”
He lifts his gaze to mine.
“I said the Manor is safe,” he chuckles. “No one in and no one out.”
My stomach drops.
He continues. “The woman you saw tonight broke three rules. The Manor responded. It will respond the same way every damn time.”
My jaw tightens. “What did she do?”
Elliot tilts his head slightly. “She made a choice. Choices have consequences here.”
I swallow hard. My hands tremble again.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If you attempt to run again, or break the rules, the result will be worse.”
Knox lets out a soft laugh. Sophie smiles. Asher shifts his weight, watching me closely.
My heart pounds, but I force the words out anyway. “I don’t know the rules.”
“I’ll tell you now,” Elliot says.
I hold his stare.
He stands slowly, pushing off the desk with both hands. His posture shifts, and the room feels smaller as he steps in front of me.
“There are three rules,” he continues.
Elliot raises one finger. “You do not try to escape.”
A second. “You follow the instructions you are given, exactly as they are given.”
A third. “And you do not try to fight us. Ever.”
His eyes stay on mine. His voice stays calm, which makes it worse.
“You break any of those,” Elliot adds, “and the response will be immediate. You saw the first example tonight. That wasn’t even the harshest outcome we have.”
A tremor runs through me.
He leans down just enough that I have to look up at him. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nod.
“Use your words, Brooke.”
“I understand.”
He steps back. “Good. Tonight, your initiation begins. You will follow what we say, when we say it. And you won’t test boundaries again.”
He gives a small nod toward Knox.
“Knox will take you to your room. We’ll call for you when we’re ready.”
Knox steps forward and grabs my arm. His grip is tight and unyielding, a silent reminder that I have no control here. Asher opens the door. Sophie follows behind me calm and composed, as if this is just another routine part of the night.
Elliot watches me leave with the same casual smile on his face, completely at ease, like he is commenting on the weather instead of delivering a threat.
The study doors click shut, and Knox steps in close behind me, his mouth near my ear.
“You better follow every rule in this house,” he murmurs. “Or you end up just like the last girl.”
Asher lets out a low chuckle.
Knox shoves me through the open door and slams it shut behind me without a second thought.
I lean back against the wall, too exhausted to move, too on edge to sit down. Every part of me feels stripped bare.
I can’t stop thinking about the girl who ran. I can still see her face before the shot went off. I can still hear the sound of her body hitting the ground.
And then there's that room.
The severed limbs. The head on the bed. The blood that painted everything like it was done with intention. It isn’t random. It is staged. It is meant to shock, to unnerve, to leave fear inside me.
Now I understand exactly what kind of people I am dealing with. They aren’t just dangerous. They are methodical, cruel, and sadistic. They don’t want me scared, they want me broken.
Whatever this initiation involves, I know it will not end with them earning my loyalty. It will end with them trying to destroy every part of me. And I have no idea how much of myself they plan to take.
I take a seat on the edge of the bed with my palms pressed into the mattress, forcing myself to stay upright.
The exhaustion runs deeper than muscle or bone. My limbs feel heavy, my thoughts slow and thick, like I'm moving through water.
My hand slides to my stomach before I can stop it.
I still don’t know how far along I am. I don’t know if it has been days or weeks.
All I know is that fear has been living in my body nonstop, and the stress feels relentless.
I can’t stop thinking about whether all of this is already hurting the baby.
I keep trembling. The movement is small but constant, a quiet shaking in my hands and legs that I can’t control.
Seth’s voice cuts through my head. He always said to find something, anything to use to fight.
I push myself to my feet and search the room. The space is intentionally stripped of options. There are no loose objects. There are no cords. There is no exposed metal. The lamp on the dresser is the only thing with enough weight to matter. I grab it and pull hard.
It doesn’t move.
I yank again, panic flaring when I feel the resistance. The base stays fixed in place.
It is bolted down.
I move into the bathroom. The toilet lid is secured tightly to the base. I try anyway, fingers straining until my knuckles ache. It doesn’t shift.
My eyes lift to the mirror.