Chapter 55
I follow Varsha further into the underground gym, wrapping my arms around myself when my nipples pebble against the chill.
The overhead lights flicker on occasion – a usual trait here – and the smell of wet stone and sweat permeates the air.
I’ve only been here a handful of times in the last few months, but this place has never ceased to make me shiver.
Varsha had woken me up earlier and told me that Dorran wanted us all at the gym.
I’d still been half asleep when I’d grabbed a random sweatshirt and shorts from his closet and dressed myself, and had only gained a full sense of myself after Alex had shaken me awake multiple times during the ride here.
“Nettie.”
I blink and look ahead, and find Mave standing next to a small dumbbell rack.
What is he doing here?
I smile, despite the confusion, then start making my way to him, but he rushes forward and wraps me in his arms, all but engulfing me in his warmth.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when it all happened,” he says against my ear.
I hold onto him and close my eyes, sighing against his familiar presence. “You couldn’t have known, Mave.”
“But we know Miranda’s impulses. We know she’s a goddamn psychopath.” He pulls back and looks down at me. “And I should have fucking been there – this time, of all.”
I shake my head. “Maybe it was time for me to finally stand up for myself the way I should’ve since the very beginning.”
He works his jaw as he studies me. “What you did was…huge. It’d be stupid to ask how you feel about it, but I really wanna know if you’re okay.”
I hug myself and shrug. “I guess I am. The event flashes in my mind in fragments; in bits and pieces. Maybe it’s because I haven’t let myself think about it fully. I’m scared that once, or if, I do, it’ll take over me completely.”
“I can understand that. It’s not something you can just forget, or ignore indefinitely. But remember why you did what you did, Nettie, and know it’s in the past now. And if you need to talk to someone about it when things get too hard to handle, there’s always me, or we can get help–”
“I don’t want that,” I cut in, then swallow. “I… I can take it. I’ll get over it.”
Mave’s brows knit together as he looks at me. “That’s not how it works.”
I shift on my feet and avert my gaze from his. “Dorran doesn’t need therapy, and he’s killed more people than you and I can count.”
“You’re not him,” Mave argues. “And you never will be.”
“But I’m getting there, aren’t I?”
He places his hands on my shoulders and steps close to me. “Look at me.”
I grit my teeth and keep staring at the dumbbell on the lowest shelf. The rubber around its middle has peeled off a little, and is hanging loose, ready to be pulled off. My fingers itch to do just that, but I also don’t feel like moving my body.
“Nettie.”
I reluctantly meet Mave’s eyes. “What?”
He sighs. “You wanna tell me why you think you’re like Dorran?”
I lift a shoulder. “He killed his mom for what she did to him all those years ago, and tonight, I got close to doing the same. I was consumed by something unnamable, and I wonder if I’d just done
it instead of walking away…” I chuckle. “I think that’s the thing I can’t stop mulling over in my head the most.”
Something like surprise takes over his features. “Done what?”
“Killed my mom, Mave,” I say, then let go of a breath.
“I don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud, or even thought about it consciously, but the idea has always been there, isn’t it?
The desire, the will.” I scoff and rub my hands over my face.
“I want her dead, and I wanna do it with my own hands. I want her to beg me, to fall on her knees and just…beg.”
Mave cups the side of my face and tilts it upward. “Then you’ll be glad to know that your wish will be fulfilled tonight.”
I frown. “I don’t understand.”
“Dorran called me earlier and told me what’d happened, then asked me to track Miranda.
She was hiding at the airport’s parking lot, waiting to leave for Paris for a meeting.
We ended up finding her before she did, though, and fuck-face plans on killing her.
It’s why you’re here; why we’re all here. ”
I suck in a breath. “You have Mom?” A spark of something hot burns in my veins, and I suddenly don’t feel so numb.
Mave nods, then gestures behind him at the open hallway. “He’s in there with her. Go.”
I swallow and step away from him. “You’ll be here when I get back, right?” I ask.
Silver lines his expressive eyes. “Always, Nettie.”
I squeeze one of his hands, then head towards the hallway. It’s a wide piece of area behind a concrete wall, with nothing in or around it but a glass paneled door that leads to a dimly lit room, and an out-of-place leather couch Solo is sitting on, reading a Marvel comic.
“Ah, there you are,” he says when he sees me, then drops the comic on the couch before getting to his feet.
“He’s in there,” he tells me, jerking his head towards the door.
“And now that you’ll be joining him, I’ll be outside.
I’ve got stuff to prepare.” He reaches me, touches one of my arms gently, then walks away.
Wow.
I make my way towards the door, and the closer I get to it, the more I can see what’s beyond it through the glass panel on its top half.
Saws, knifes, hammers, belts, cleavers, and some needle-like rods.
Goosebumps mar my entire body upon seeing how well each and every one of these items is lined; how easily accessible they must be to the person who wants to use them.
I reach close enough to the door that I can twist its knob if I want to, and look inside, only to gasp and place a hand over my mouth when I see Dorran, all but bathed in blood, crouched before a body.
He’s got a kitchen axe in his right hand, and because his back is turned to me, I can’t exactly see what it is that he’s chopping off, off the corpse in front of him.
I’m beyond shaken, even though I know I shouldn’t be. This is who he is, after all – dark, unforgivably unapologetic; insane in the face of ending lives. And God, I still love him, despite seeing him practically cut a human to pieces.
I look towards the other side of the room, and find Mom – her wrists and ankles tied, and her mouth taped shut – crying as she watches Dorran.
Her face is streaked black from her mascara, and her hair is a dirty mess around her.
Her grey pencil dress is smudged black, and so are her legs.
The sight she makes is beyond satisfying, and if I had my phone with me, I’d have taken a photo of her and nailed it to my bedroom wall.
She must’ve felt a presence or something, because she turns in my direction, and when our eyes meet, she starts fighting against her restraints. Every time she jerks to free herself, her back bangs against the steel cabinet behind her, making a loud thump-like sound.
Her actions make Dorran turn as well, and when he sees me, he grins and gets to his feet.
Gone is the man who’d stood behind me and uttered words of encouragement in my ear only hours ago.
Who’d fucked me in his shower and cleaned me up after.
Because who I see before me is death itself – materialized; made human.
Dorran walks over to the door and stands in front of it, then places his left hand on the glass panel before looking down at me.
I align my hand against his, then scan his blood-splattered face. “What are you doing?”
He cants his head slightly and taps the tip of the kitchen axe to his earlobe. “I can’t hear you.” Whether he speaks those words or mouths them, I can’t tell.
I gesture downwards, asking him to unlock the door. He nods, then steps back and pulls it open for me. Just as soon as he’s done it, a too-strong wave of ice-cold air hits me, followed quickly by the overpowering smell of raw meat and blood.
“Christ,” I whisper, then press the back of my hand over my nose. “Dorran, what the fuck?”
He chuckles. “Too much for ya?”
“You’re cutting open a human being, damn you. And the air fucking stinks.”
“Correction: I’m dismembering Toby over there, not cutting him open.
” He clicks his tongue, then waves towards Toby, whose bleeding arms are placed near his head instead of being where they actually should be.
“Besides, your mother needed a bit of entertainment before her reckoning, and that’s exactly what I was providing.
It is, after all, the least I can do for her. ”
I can’t help but laugh. Like, a full-blown outburst. Anyone else would see me and think I’ve lost it, but Dorran just grins, making me laugh harder.
“You’re unbelievable,” I say with a shake of my head.
“And you’re fucking priceless, Little Swan,” he muses.
Six simple words, and yet, they warm me from the inside out. Only because he’s the one who said them.
I take my hand away from my nose and try not to focus on the stench, then enter the room and stand directly in front of Dorran. He arches a brow at me, and I rise on my tiptoes to bring my face close to his.
“Say that again.”
He smirks. “You’re fucking priceless, my Little Swan.”
I glance at his lips, and watch as they spread into a deviant smile. “Yours, huh?” I meet his gaze.
His pupils are flared, and the glint in them is unmistakable. “Did I stutter?”
I chuckle. “Kiss me, then,” I say, and erase the space between us before fisting his soiled vest.
He lets go of a slight hiss, drops the kitchen axe, and pulls me to him. He then wraps the fingers of his right hand around my throat and squeezes, cutting off my air supply.
My lungs burn as I struggle to breathe, and when I let go of a strangled groan, Dorran laughs and presses his lips to mine.
My senses go haywire at the taste of blood, and for the man holding me at his mercy. I moan and kiss him harder, opening him up enough to suck on his tongue.
Dorran moans out loud, and it’s a sound devoid of inhibition; it’s husk and lust, molded together.
He loosens his grip on my throat, and I in turn bunch his hair in a fist.
“You’ve consumed me entirely, Cignette,” he rasps against me. “And my God, I’m mad for you. Fucking ravenous.” He all but crashes his mouth to mine, making me arch against him. I’m wet, I’m hot, and it’s…too much.
“You’re one to talk,” I tell him, and when he chuckles, I press my teeth to his bottom lip, puncturing the soft skin there.
Dorran moans again – louder this time – then thrusts his hips forward, and his rock-hard cock pushes against my stomach.
I grin, then suck on his bottom lip, relishing the taste of his blood on my tongue. Getting high on the very essence that’s a part of every inch of him. The thing that makes him who he is.
Dorran pulls back, then presses open-mouthed kisses to my jaw, my neck, and my collarbone.
He licks a path from my throat, all the way up to my chin, then travels lower again.
I close my eyes and massage his scalp as he bites and sucks on the skin behind my ear, and bring my other hand down between us to cup his growing boner.
He grunts and presses his nose to the side of my neck while he rocks his hips into my hand. His breathing is hard, heavy, and it only serves to make me wetter for him.
Something bangs against the steel cabinet – once, twice, and then a third time.
I blink myself out of the trance I’d fallen into, and let go of Dorran’s hair. He scowls and turns around to face my mom, who is glaring at us from the floor.
“Too eager to die, are you, Miranda?” he taunts, then kicks at her tied-up feet, making her cry out. He then points at Toby’s body, which is now turning blue in the face. “Wanna end up like him, then, or would you like the special treatment?”
Chills rake through me at the ice in his voice. It’s leveled and calm – a deadly combination when it comes to him.
Mom thrashes against her binds, just like I’d thrashed under Riley, pleading with him to stop. Images from earlier assault my mind, but I swallow and push them away.
You’re not the pain you’ve endured, I tell myself. Chin up; stay strong.
Dorran faces me, just as I steady my breathing and look at him.
“You alright?” he asks, then touches his knuckles to my cheek.
“I will be,” I answer honestly, then give him a small smile.
He places a kiss between my brows, then presses his forehead to mine. “I’m here, okay? Always. Whatever you need.”
Countless emotions tighten my chest. “I know,” I whisper, then give him a brief kiss. “I know.”