Chapter 38 Ashton #2
The corridor stretched endlessly ahead; the darkness swallowing the faint beam of my flashlight.
My breathing was labored, each inhale rattling in my chest as if the walls themselves were pressing in.
The air was colder now, damp and thick, carrying a metallic tang that made my stomach churn.
Blood. I pushed forward, gripping the flashlight tighter, the distant echoes of Bentley’s mocking laughter ringing in my ears.
I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. Every second counted, every heartbeat brought me closer—or farther—from Dove. The thought of her, broken and terrified, was enough to fuel my legs even as exhaustion gnawed at my bones.
Her scream pierced the silence.
It was faint, distant, but unmistakable. A raw, guttural cry of terror that ripped through me like a blade. My blood turned to ice, my muscles coiling with a mix of dread and determination. She was alive. And she was in pain.
I broke into a run, my boots pounding against the cracked tiles as I followed the sound.
The hallway twisted and turned, each corner revealing more of the hospital’s grotesque secrets.
Chains dangled from the ceilings, their rusted links swaying in an unseen breeze.
Graffiti and scratch marks covered the walls, the remnants of the madness that had once thrived here.
Her scream came again, louder this time, closer. My heart slammed against my ribs as I reached a door at the end of the hall. The wood was warped and splintered, the paint peeling away to reveal dark stains beneath. Blood.
I hesitated for only a second, my hand trembling as I reached for the handle. The cold metal burned against my skin, and I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay beyond.
I shoved the door open.
The room was a nightmare brought to life.
The faint glow of a single bulb illuminated the space, casting long, twisted shadows across the walls.
Chains hung from the ceiling, their ends frayed and rusted.
A table stood in the center, its surface slick with blood and littered with tools—scalpels, pliers, saws.
The stench was overwhelming, a sickening blend of iron, sweat, and decay.
And there she was.
Dove was strapped to a chair, her wrists bound with thick leather straps, her head slumped forward. Her hair clung to her face, damp with sweat and streaked with blood. Her breaths were shallow, her chest rising and falling in weak, uneven rhythms.
“Dove,” I choked, the sound barely audible over the pounding in my ears.
Her head lifted slowly, her eyes glassy and unfocused. When she saw me, a faint spark of recognition flickered in her gaze, but it was quickly overshadowed by fear.
“Ashton,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, broken. “It’s a trap.”
The words barely registered before I heard the creak of a floorboard behind me.
I turned just in time to see Bentley lunging at me, a scalpel gleaming in his hand.
I raised my arm instinctively, the blade slicing through my jacket and grazing my skin.
Pain flared, hot and sharp, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it.
I swung the flashlight, the heavy metal connecting with Bentley’s temple. He stumbled back, blood trickling down his face, but the grin never left his lips.
“You’re too late, Riley,” he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “She’s mine.”
I surged forward, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall. “She’ll never be yours,” I growled, my voice shaking with rage. “You’ve already lost.”
Bentley laughed, the sound grating and unhinged. “You think you’ve won? You think you can save her? Look around you, Riley. This is her fate. This is what she was born for.”
My fist connected with his face, the impact sending a jolt of pain through my knuckles. He crumpled to the ground, his laughter fading into a low, guttural groan.
I didn’t waste a second. I turned back to Dove, my hands shaking as I worked to free her from the restraints. The leather straps were stiff and unyielding, but I pulled and tore until they gave way. She collapsed into my arms, her body trembling, her skin cold and clammy.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered, cradling her against my chest. “You’re safe now.”
Her fingers clutched at my shirt, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.
“He… he won’t stop,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “He’ll never stop.”
I pressed a kiss to her hair, my heart breaking at the pain in her voice. “He won’t touch you again,” I promised, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “I’ll make sure of it.”
As I carried her toward the door, I glanced back at Bentley’s crumpled form. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his eyes fluttering closed. For a brief moment, I considered ending it here and now, putting an end to the nightmare he had created.
But Dove’s weak, trembling voice pulled me back. “Please,” she whispered. “Just take me home.”
Home.
The word hit me like a punch to the gut, a reminder of everything I had taken from her, everything I still had to make right. I tightened my grip on her, my resolve hardening.
This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. But for now, I had her in my arms, and I wasn’t letting go.