Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
JUDE GRAVES
I don’t need to open my eyes to know where I am. My body already remembers. The basement lights are bright as shit, and these restraints are too tight. I’m shaking from not being allowed my morning dose yet.
It’s probably the afternoon, now.
The tremor in my hands isn’t fear, though. My nerves feel like they’re on fire, with every breath scraping on the way in. I flex my fingers against the restraints and feel the bite of metal at my wrists.
Unhurried and confident footsteps echo behind me. “Good,” Alexei says calmly. “You’re awake. You blacked out after the first round.”
I don’t answer because my jaw is locked too tight for words. A bright phone screen suddenly flashes in front of me, and I don’t look at it at first. I know better. My body has already started to react anyway.
“You see,” Alexei continues, “I’ve been extremely patient with you. More than I'd like to be. But I believe in you.”
The image sharpens in my peripheral vision.
Her.
It’s not a new photo. It’s an older one from her Instagram. Her head is tilted just slightly, with a soft smile. Looks to be in her studio. My chest seizes before my brain can intervene. Breath stutters. Muscles lock. He’s gonna—
Pain detonates down my arms.
A gasp tears from my throat despite myself. My vision blurs, stars bursting behind my eyes as electricity rips through my tired body.
“Observe,” Alexei commands. “Your body understands the truth before you do.”
The current cuts off.
I’m panting now, sweat collecting along my spine, heart slamming like it’s trying to escape my ribs. I force my eyes open to look. Her face swims back into focus again.
“Still,” Alexei goes on. “You insist on clinging to the idea that she is…innocent. Good.”
I swallow hard. My tongue feels thick and heavy.
“She is not,” he says simply. “She is a weakness. A liability. A distraction that cost you everything. She is the reason you're hurting.”
Another jolt. Shorter this time, but sharper.
I cry out before I can stop it, my back arching against the restraints. My teeth chatter when it ends, humiliation burning hotter than the pain itself.
“That girl is the reason you’re sitting here right now,” Alexei continues, unbothered. “Feeling pain.” A pause. “And she will continue to be the reason for it until I can get her out of your head, boy.”
The screen changes. Another image of her. Different angle. Different day.
“Tell me,” he says softly, “how much longer are you going to let her run your life? Hmm?”
My head lolls forward. I shake it weakly.
No.
Stop.
This isn’t—
Pain again. Longer.
My vision whites out. Something animal claws up my throat—rage or fear or grief, I don’t know which—and when it finally cuts off, I’m sobbing. And then, worse than the pain...a thought slips in. About…her.
Why won’t you just leave me the fuck alone? I hate seeing your face.
I freeze.
That isn’t my thought. It can’t be.
Terror pools through me, colder than anything Alexei has done to me so far. I clamp my eyes shut like I can crush it back into nothing, but it’s already there, echoing in my useless fucking skull.
Alexei hums, satisfied. “Ah,” he murmurs. “There you go.” He walks away for a moment. To where, I have no idea. I’m still shaking. I hear movement to my left then. I open my eyes just enough to see two men leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, watching me like I’m a fucking exhibit.
One of them smiles in a way that makes me feel sick. “Pretty boy doesn’t look so tough anymore,” he says, amused. His dark eyes are a disturbing contrast to his short white-blonde hair.
The other doesn’t speak. He just lets his blue gaze drag over my arms, my chest, my throat like he’s deciding something. He has black hair, shaved close.
“Different rules here,” the first one adds lightly. “You’re not under anyone’s protection now.”
My stomach drops. I glance past them and see Adriana standing near the door, arms wrapped tight around herself.
Her eyes meet mine for half a second before she looks away, jaw trembling.
She’s been crying since they dragged me in here.
Terrified of being alone, she forced herself to come even though she hates this. They’re watching her, too.
The silent one finally leans forward, pushing off the wall. “Relax,” he says, mockingly gentle. “If we decide to do anything to you, we’ll drug you. You won’t remember it anyway.”
A feral fear snaps awake inside me at that.
My pulse roars in my ears as I test the restraints again.
The two men keep fucking drooling over seeing me like this.
Alexei finally returns with a bottle of water.
But it’s not what I need. I need a dose.
Without saying anything, Alexei’s hand snatches my hair and yanks my head back.
Water is forced down my throat, and I struggle not to choke and sputter.
“Good boy,” he praises, stepping back with a sadistic grin.
I stare at him, my heart racing. The poor thing keeps thinking it’s fighting off death. It’s then that I truly understand that my body isn’t mine anymore. And whatever they’re turning me into...it’s happening faster than I thought.
I’m unstrapped without warning. Just the sudden absence of pressure and the sharp rush of blood back into my limbs that makes me hiss through my teeth. My wrists burn, and my shoulders scream. I barely get my feet under me before a hand clamps onto the back of my neck.
“Not so fast,” Alexei says mildly. A bottle appears in front of my face. It's a clear glass without a label. I know exactly what it is before the cap twists off. “For the pain,” he adds, almost kindly.
I shake my head once. That’s all I get, because he tips it anyway.
Vodka floods my mouth, harsh and burning, spilling down my chin when I cough.
He doesn’t let up. My throat convulses, instinct kicking in, and I swallow just to make it stop.
It burns all the way down, lighting my empty stomach on fire.
“подчиняться.” Obey.
I don’t fight it the second time. I can't. By the time he pulls the bottle away, my head is floating somewhere above my body.
“See?” Alexei says. “I do take care of my boys. Isn’t that right?” He glances at the two men, who peel off the wall and approach.
“Walk,” one of them says, gripping my arm tightly.
Adriana steps in close immediately, looping her arm through mine. Her body is tense, but she doesn’t let go. She keeps her head down as they steer us out, her shoulder pressed into my side like she’s holding me upright through sheer will.
“Such a pretty pair,” the other man murmurs as we’re shoved toward the guesthouse. “You should be careful what you eat here.”
I laugh under my breath. It comes out broken and slurred.
“Food, water,” he continues lazily. “Anything could knock you out. Accidents happen.” His gaze slides over Adriana in a way that makes my vision go red. “We’d hate for you to miss a…visit. I assure you, it’d be memorable, sweetheart.”
Adriana recoils.
They laugh as they leave us at the door.
Inside, I barely make it to the bathroom before I’m stripping out of my clothes, hands shaking too badly to be remotely useful. I turn the shower on and lean my forehead against the tile, breathing through the spin.
The pain is gone. The vodka did its job.
Adriana joins me without a word, stepping under the spray and guiding me fully beneath the water. Pink runs down the drain as she washes the blood from my arms, my ribs, my shoulders. She’s crying again.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, scrubbing carefully. “Jude…I’m so sorry.”
I close my eyes and let her do it. Let myself be held upright by warm water and the only familiar hands I know anymore.
When we’re finally done, we dress in silence. Sweatpants and a t-shirt for me, and pajamas for her. We notice that dinner has been delivered and is sitting on the dining room table. But neither of us moves to touch it.
“I need to tell you something,” she says suddenly.
I groan, rubbing my face. I need to dose. “Not now. Please.”
She steps into my path. “No. I can’t hold this back anymore.” Her hands are shaking. “You’re going to hate me,” she says. “You already do, but…this will make it worse.”
I squint at her, the room swaying. “Spit it out, Adriana.”
She steadies a breath. “You never killed anyone in LA, Jude.”
My chest hollows out. “What?” I ask flatly.
“Nolan set it up,” she whispers. “All of it. The body. The evidence. The threats. You didn’t kill anyone—he just needed you to believe you did. To control you.”
My brain clicks, and my body moves before my thoughts catch up. I slam her back against the wall, forearm braced beside her head, my chest heaving as I cage her in. “You mean my entire fucking life,” I snarl, “has been based on a lie?”
She squeezes her eyes shut, terrified. “Jude—”
I punch the wall next to her head. Plaster cracks, and pain explodes through my knuckles. “I became this,” I choke, voice breaking apart, “because you guys lied to me?”
I hit the wall again. And again. Then my strength evaporates, and I sag forward, my forehead dropping to her shoulder as uncontrollable sobs rip out of me. My body folds in on itself, skyscrapers collapsing inward, nothing left standing in the face of utter destruction.
I was twenty. I was scared. I thought I was a murderer. I...could have walked away. I could have been free.
It was all a lie.
A lie a lie a lie—
When I finally pull back, my face is wrecked.
Hers isn’t much better. We stare at each other like strangers who survived the same disaster.
I turn away before she can say anything else and head into the living room.
I need my goddamn kit. Now. I fumble it open with shaking hands, desperate for something, anything, that will drag me under and make it all just fucking stop.
As the needle bites and heroin floods my veins, one thought loops relentlessly. ..
I became a fucking monster for nothing.
I don’t realize I’m standing until I’m already swaying.
The room tilts sideways, the walls breathing in and out like the time I ate too many mushrooms, and something hot and acidic crawls up the back of my throat.
My stomach clenches hard enough that I gasp.
I stagger forward, bare feet slapping against the floor, my shoulder smashing the doorframe.
“Jude—?” Adriana’s voice spikes instantly. There are panicked, scrambling footsteps behind me. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did you take too much? Talk to me—”
“I’m fine,” I snap, even as my vision tunnels. “I said I’m—”
I don’t make it to the toilet. I drop to my knees instead, hands bracing against cold tile as my body betrays me completely.
The nausea hits, and I retch hard, violently, my whole spine bowing as bile and vodka burn their way out of me.
My throat spasms, tears forming in my eyes as my stomach keeps convulsing, even when there’s nothing left to give.
Adriana’s hands hover uselessly near my shoulders. “Oh god, Jude—”
“I told you,” I choke, gagging again. “I’m not—overdosing.”
I don’t know why that matters so much to me.
It’s not like it fucking matters anymore.
Sweat breaks out across my back, my skin cold and clammy in the worst way.
The heroin is like oil in my veins. It dulls the pain in my ribs, my shoulders, and the places they hurt me earlier.
But it doesn’t even remotely touch what’s happening in my head.
My thoughts start looping, skipping like a broken record.
A lie.
A lie.
A lie.
I laugh suddenly—this ugly, wild sound that doesn’t feel like it comes from me at all. It actually startles me. Adriana freezes behind me, horrified.
I press my forehead to the rim of the toilet, breathing hard. The room feels like it's shrinking, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. My reflection stares back at me from the shower glass—pale, hollow-eyed, pupils blown. A stranger.
A ghost.
“I ruined my life,” I say, and my voice sounds far away. “I ruined it for nothing. I left her...for nothing.”
Another wave of nausea hits, but this time nothing comes up. My body just heaves uselessly, muscles clenching, throat burning. I laugh again, sharper this time, because of course, even my body doesn’t know what to do with the truth.
Adriana crouches beside me now, closer.
“I don’t know who I am,” I say. The words spill out before I can stop them. “I built everything on that. Every choice. Every fucked-up thing I did to survive. And now you’re telling me it was all—”
My voice breaks. Hard.
I slam my fist into the tile. Once. Twice. It doesn’t hurt the way it should. That scares me more than if it did. “I became a monster,” I whisper, laughing and crying at the same time now, my chest ripping the fuck open. “For nothing.”
I can’t stop repeating it.
The drug pulls at me, trying to drag me under, trying to blur the edges of the realization before it can finish carving me open.
I wish it would, though. I wish I could just bleed all over the fucking floor.
My head lolls, my forehead knocking gently against the porcelain.
I feel unreal. Disconnected. Like I’m watching myself from somewhere else…
like in a dream. This sensation keeps happening. What…what is it?
“Why did you tell me?” The words are barely a whisper. Then I look up at her terrified expression. “Why did you fucking tell me?” I yell, my words breaking on another sob.
She flinches as I bow my head again. Her hand finally lands on my back. Her touch is light and careful. “I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice breaking apart. “I’m so sorry.”
I don’t answer. I honestly don’t think that I can. Because if I open my mouth, I think I might scream or sob again. Or laugh. Instead, I sit there on the bathroom floor, shaking, sick, high, and fucking empty.