Chapter 37 Ashton
ASHTON
The doors groaned as they swung open; the sound reverberating through the cold, empty halls like a dying scream.
The air that rushed out hit me like a wave, thick with the stench of rot, mildew, and something far worse—something acrid, metallic.
Blood. My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat as I stepped over the threshold.
The interior of the hospital was a cavern of shadows, its walls coated in years of grime and decay.
The peeling paint hung like dead skin, exposing the rotting wood and crumbling plaster beneath.
The faint light from my flashlight barely penetrated the suffocating darkness, illuminating jagged scars etched into the walls—words and symbols scratched deep by desperate hands.
Lilith followed close behind me, her boots tapping against the cracked tiles with an almost mocking rhythm.
She hummed softly to herself, her voice echoing eerily through the empty space.
The circus psychopaths trailed behind us, their movements unsettlingly quiet for creatures that seemed born from chaos.
I scanned the room, my jaw clenched so tightly it ached. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of what might lie ahead pressing down on me. My chest felt tight, my breathing shallow. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the building itself was alive, watching, waiting.
“This place,” Lilith said, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife, “it’s delicious, isn’t it? All these memories. All this pain. You can practically taste it.”
I ignored her, my eyes darting to the shadows that danced along the walls.
Every creak of the floorboards, every distant drip of water, sent a jolt through me. My mind raced, conjuring images of Dove—bound, broken, screaming for me. Or worse, lying lifeless in some forgotten corner, her body discarded like the countless others who had been lost here.
I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to me like the stench in the air.
“Focus,” I muttered to myself, my voice low.
Lilith leaned close, her breath hot against my ear. “Oh, darling, I am. Aren’t you?”
Her laugh was light, almost musical, but it carried an edge that set my teeth on edge.
She twirled ahead of me, her red leather jacket catching the faint light like a beacon of madness.
“Tell me, Ash,” she said, her voice sing-song, “what do you think he’s doing to her right now? Something fun, I hope.”
I spun on her, my flashlight beam catching her face. Her grin widened, her eyes sparkling with sadistic delight. My fists clenched, and for a moment, I considered ending her here and now. But I needed her—for now.
“Shut up, Lilith,” I growled, my voice barely masking the rage boiling inside me. “This isn’t a game.”
“Oh, but it is,” she said, spreading her arms wide as she turned in a slow circle. “Everything’s a game if you know how to play. And Bentley James? He’s a master.”
I swallowed hard, the mention of his name sending a chill down my spine.
I didn’t know him—had never met him—but the case files had painted a picture vivid enough to haunt me.
A man obsessed with chaos, with power, with control.
A man who had taken Dove’s parents from her in the most brutal way imaginable. And now he had her.
My hands shook as I imagined what he might be doing to her, the scenarios playing out in my mind like a horror film I couldn’t stop watching. Her screams, her tears, her silence. My knees threatened to buckle under the weight of it.
“Ash.” Lilith’s voice snapped me back to the present. She was standing at the end of the hall, her hand resting on a door that hung loosely on its hinges. “You coming, or are you going to keep brooding?”
I forced my legs to move, stepping into the hallway where the walls seemed to close in around us. The smell was worse here, the metallic tang of blood almost unbearable. My flashlight beam flickered across the floor, illuminating dark stains that had seeped into the tiles.
The sound of our footsteps echoed endlessly, distorted by the oppressive silence.
The circus psychopaths moved ahead, their grotesque forms blending with the shadows.
One of them—a wiry figure with a painted-on grin—dragged a rusted chain along the floor, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.
Another carried a sledgehammer over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with unhinged anticipation.
“Why are they even here?” I muttered, more to myself than to Lilith.
“To enjoy the show,” she replied, her tone flippant. “And to clean up your mess if you can’t finish it.”
I stopped, turning to face her. “If you think this is some kind of entertainment—”
“I don’t think,” she interrupted, her grin sharp enough to cut. “I know. And so do you.”
I stared at her, my rage simmering just below the surface. But I couldn’t waste time fighting her. Not when Dove was out there, alone and afraid.
We reached a staircase, the banister warped and splintered, the steps covered in debris. My flashlight caught movement above—a fleeting shadow that disappeared before I could process it. My heart raced, a cold sweat breaking out along my spine.
“She’s close,” I said, my voice low.
Lilith’s grin widened, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between us. She knew something. She always did. But whether she would tell me… that was another story.
“Then let’s not keep her waiting,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery.
I started up the stairs, my grip tightening on the flashlight as if it were the only thing tethering me to sanity. Every step felt like a lifetime, the shadows pressing closer, the sounds around us growing louder—whispers, laughter, the distant thud of something heavy.
And through it all, one thought consumed me:
I had to find her. No matter what it took. No matter what it cost.
“Hold on, Dove,” I murmured, the words a prayer, a promise. “I’m coming.”
The stairs creaked beneath my boots as I ascended, each step threatening to give way under my weight.
The air grew colder the higher I climbed, the chill biting at my skin like icy needles.
It wasn’t just the cold that made my body tense, though.
It was the stillness, the oppressive quiet that wrapped itself around me like a noose.
Every breath felt heavier, the air thick with decay and something far worse—fear.
I paused at the landing, my flashlight barely cutting through the darkness.
The beam trembled in my hand, the faint light illuminating streaks on the walls—smudges of dirt, blood, and what looked like claw marks etched into the peeling paint.
The smell here was suffocating, a nauseating mix of mildew, rot, and copper.
My stomach churned, and I fought the urge to gag.
Behind me, Lilith hummed softly, her boots tapping against the warped floorboards as she trailed behind with an almost playful stride.
Her hands swung at her sides, her red leather jacket catching the faint light and adding a sickening vibrancy to the muted grays and browns of the decaying hospital.
“You feel that, Ash?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “That itch at the back of your neck? The little hairs standing up? That’s fear.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My throat felt tight, my jaw locked as I scanned the hallway ahead.
Doors lined both sides, their frames sagging and warped with age.
Most of them hung open, revealing dark voids that my flashlight barely penetrated.
A few were shut tight, the paint peeling away to reveal rusted hinges.
Lilith came to stand beside me, her head tilted as she studied me with a grin that made my skin crawl. “You’re so serious,” she teased. “So focused. It’s almost admirable.”
“Lilith,” I said, my voice low and sharp. “Shut up.”
She laughed, the sound echoing down the empty hall. “Touchy, touchy. Fine. I’ll be good.” But her grin didn’t waver, and the glint in her eyes told me she wouldn’t stay silent for long.
I stepped forward, my flashlight sweeping across the floor.
The tiles were cracked and uneven, dust and debris scattered across their surface.
Faint footprints trailed through the dirt—small, delicate.
Dove’s. The sight made my chest tighten, a mix of relief and terror surging through me.
She had been here. But was she still alive?
“Keep moving,” I muttered to myself, my grip tightening on the flashlight.
The sound of distant laughter drifted through the air, faint and haunting.
It wasn’t Lilith’s laugh—it was lighter, higher, like the laughter of a child.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I froze, my flashlight jerking toward the source of the sound.
But there was nothing. Just the shadows, shifting and writhing as if mocking me.
Lilith leaned close, her breath warm against my ear. “Did you hear that?” she whispered, her voice tinged with excitement. “They’re watching us.”
I turned to glare at her, my blood boiling. “Enough,” I snapped. “If you’re not going to help, then stay the hell out of my way.”
Her grin widened, and she took a step back, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “Relax, darling. I’m just here for the show.”
Ignoring her, I pushed forward, my footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. The laughter had stopped, but the feeling of being watched lingered, crawling over my skin like a thousand invisible insects. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of fabric, set my nerves on edge.
I reached a door at the end of the hallway, its wood splintered and warped.
A faint light seeped through the cracks, flickering like a dying flame.
My heart raced as I pressed my hand against the door, the rough wood scraping against my palm.
The air on the other side felt different—heavier, charged with an energy that made my skin prickle.
Lilith sidled up beside me, her grin replaced by a look of genuine curiosity. “This is it, isn’t it?” she murmured. “This is where he’s keeping her.”
Her words sent a fresh wave of panic crashing over me, but I forced myself to stay focused. I couldn’t afford to lose control. Not now.
I pushed the door open, the hinges groaning in protest. The room beyond was dimly lit, the source of the light a single, flickering bulb that hung from the ceiling by a frayed wire.
The walls were covered in graffiti and scratch marks, the remnants of some long-forgotten torment.
Chains dangled from the ceiling, their rusted links swaying gently, as if moved by an unseen hand.
In the center of the room was a chair, its surface stained and cracked. And beside it, a table littered with tools—scalpels, knives, pliers—each one more sinister than the last. My stomach turned as I imagined what those tools had been used for, the screams that had echoed in this room.
But there was no sign of Dove.
“Dove!” I called, my voice cracking with desperation. The sound echoed back at me, mocking in its emptiness.
Lilith leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed as she watched me with a mixture of amusement and pity. “You’re really falling apart, aren’t you?” she said softly.
I turned to her, my fists clenched, my chest heaving. “If you know something—anything—about where she is, you’d better tell me now.”
She tilted her head, her grin returning. “You really think I’d let you have all the fun?”
I took a step toward her, my rage boiling over. “Lilith—”
But before I could finish, a sound echoed through the room—a low, guttural growl that sent a shiver down my spine. It came from the shadows, from somewhere just out of sight.
I turned, my flashlight trembling in my hand as I aimed it toward the source of the sound. The beam caught movement—something shifting, lurking just beyond the edge of the light. My pulse thundered in my ears as I took a step back, my breath hitching.
And then, from the darkness, a voice. Low, menacing, dripping with malice.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
My blood ran cold. Bentley James.