Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
ADRIANA brITTON
I startle awake, surrounded by darkness. For one disorienting second, I think I’m still pinned beneath him, choking on tequila breath and sweat. But then, I feel a warmth beside me. I sigh when I feel the heavy and protective arm secured around my waist.
I’m okay. I’m okay. He’s not hurting me anymore. He’s dead.
Jude killed him.
My throat tightens as memory slams into me anyway.
That motherfucker on top of me, pain, then the sound of the gunshot and the wet thud of a body collapsing.
Jude had swayed in the doorway like he was summoned straight from hell.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t stop the images from replaying.
The man had come in grinning and smug, demanding something from me.
Some stupid favor for Alexei that I refused and kept refusing.
He didn’t bother answering with words. But if I could go back in time, I'd still go through this.
Because I will never help Alexei. I'll never help someone hurt Jude again.
Jude’s breathing is steady and deep beside me, his chest rising against my shoulder.
I turn my head slightly, studying his face in the faint gray light bleeding through the curtains.
He looks calm in sleep, the hard lines of pain and rage softening just enough that I can see the amazing man he used to be.
The one who actually used to have fun and be the life of the party.
He even enjoyed my company sometimes back then.
I remember times where we'd smoke weed and laugh at whatever episode of Scooby-Doo was on. He'd order room service and we'd eat so many desserts we nearly exploded. That was before the drugs swallowed him completely.
I can’t shake the way he looked when his gaze crashed into mine last night, right before he shot the man off of me.
His eyes were nearly black. Empty. They weren’t angry or protective.
Just…gone. Sometimes I think Jude's soul has already been taken from this world and his body just hasn’t realized it yet.
My stomach twists with nausea. I hate myself for my part in his suffering. I hate myself for every moment I leaned into Nolan’s lies because I was a stupid girl chasing a dream, running from a nightmare with stars in my eyes. I know now that none of that will ever come true for me.
My life ended the morning I woke up in Nolan’s bed with his threats spilling from his horrid lips. He told me who I would become and what I would do. He promised success if I played my role well enough. I played it perfectly.
And it destroyed everything. It destroyed the little girl inside me who always screamed that I had become evil.
There’s no excuse. None. Abusers are fucking shit, including me.
In my desperation to escape all of Nolan’s abuse, I drowned myself in drugs.
They made me angrier, sure, but I stopped caring.
I stopped thinking of all of the shitty things I'd gone through.
My gaze drifts back to Jude. A lock of dark hair falls across his forehead. There’s a bruise along his collarbone. Needle marks track along his arm like a constellation I helped map. I remember the first time he shot up. I fight the memory, but it comes crashing into my mind anyway.
~ A memory ~
The music is so fucking annoying. This room is full of sweaty bodies, expensive drinks, bass rattling the canal-front Miami mansion where we’ve been invited for a party.
Kami squeals beside me, phone already out, Finnick leaning in as they snap selfies.
I always liked Kami. She thinks I’m kind of a bitch. She’s not wrong.
I glance past them, searching for Jude, and I find him instantly. He’s drunk, laughing with Micah near the bar. They’re together, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, bouncing to the music like they’re teenagers. Jude throws his head back, grinning, and I smile.
I watch him for one more second, and then someone tugs my wrist. I turn, already annoyed, already exhausted, and my stomach drops straight through the floor when I slam into a hard body.
Nolan.
“Ugh,” I mutter. “What do you want?”
He smiles. That wicked, disgusting grin I fucking hate more than anything.
“No,” I say immediately. “Not here. This is a party.”
His fingers tighten around my wrist. “Never stopped us before, baby.”
My heart sinks. I glance back over my shoulder to see Jude still laughing, still riding his post-performance high, blissfully unaware of the horror I experience with this monster behind the scenes. Then I’m dragged away.
The bathroom door locks behind us with a sharp click that I hear too loudly.
Nolan is rough and impatient. He shoves my dress up and takes what he wants, like he always does.
He hisses threats into my ear because I dared to ignore him during the show.
Nolan hates being ignored. He makes sure I remember that every time he hurts me.
Since being in this industry, and close to Hollywood in general, I’ve realized how corrupt and brutal it is.
Wealthy managers, producers, and directors take advantage of people all of the time.
Hell, the majority of the models downstairs have likely been abused by various men who wield power like assholes.
They just wear smiles like masks and continue on with life.
It’s sad…but I suppose it’s no different than what I do.
The abusers think they’re high and mighty, but they’re nothing.
They’re just fucking warthogs who are drawn to beautiful, unbroken people.
They love ripping them apart and watching any kind of light or positivity leave their eyes.
They love being responsible for suffering, stealing passion, and throwing away dreams.
By the time it’s over, I’m shaking, sore, drunk, dizzy, and empty. I clean myself up as best I can, hands trembling, mascara smeared, mouth tasting like all of the hateful words I want to scream at that evil fuck. I just want Jude. I just want to see him and feel okay again.
But I can’t find him.
I search the mansion room by room, the party blurring into noise and faces and laughter that feels obscene now.
My chest tightens with every door I open.
Then I find him in an upstairs bedroom, balcony doors open, letting in salty night air and the distant crash of waves.
He’s sitting on the floor in front of the couch.
And there’s a needle in his arm.
A goddamn fucking needle.
“No,” I breathe. Then louder, panicked, breaking. “Jude, no!”
I rush forward, dropping to my knees, hands scrambling for his face, his shoulders. But it’s already too late. His head lolls back against the cushion, eyes glassy, mouth slack.
My heart shatters.
No. No. No.
Micah bursts in behind me, swearing. He drops beside us, all instinct, all fear. He checks Jude’s breathing and presses fingers to his neck. “Hey,” Micah says urgently. “Hey, man. How much did you take? How much did you fucking take?”
I whirl on the guy standing there—some fucking stranger I’ve never seen before. Some useless piece of shit who wanted a few minutes with Jude Graves. “How much did you give him?”
He doesn’t answer.
Micah doesn’t wait. He slams his fist into the guy’s face, sending him crashing back, then shoves him toward the door. “Get the fuck out!”
I’m crying now, full-body sobs ripping out of me as I cradle Jude’s face, begging him silently to just look at me. Micah keeps listening to his breathing, steady but heavy.
“He’s okay,” Micah says, though his jaw is tight. “He’s okay.”
Is he?
Is he?
Micah runs a hand through his shoulder-length blonde hair, frustration radiating off him.
He’s not happy. He never wanted this. He’s been using needles for a long time, but not Jude.
“It’s too late now,” he whispers, sitting back on his heels.
“We won’t be able to keep him from shooting up after this. You know that.”
Something inside me screams. I do know that. I wish I’d stayed with him. I wish Nolan hadn’t stolen me away. Maybe I could’ve stopped this. Maybe I could’ve saved him from this. My heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.
I don’t know what my role is anymore. I’m supposed to be his handler.
His girlfriend. The one who keeps him safe and presentable to the public.
I’ve been using drugs since I was sixteen.
I know how deep this pit goes. I know how hard it is to crawl the fuck out of.
I haven’t had the strength. Neither has Micah.
Now we’re all fucked.
Jude’s eyes flutter open, unfocused. He lets out a low moan. I sob, pressing my forehead to his shoulder.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Where were you?” I ask Micah, my voice breaking.
“I was talking to Finnick outside,” he snaps back. “Where the fuck were you? You’re always creeping over our shoulders. Aren't you supposed to be his girlfriend?”
I recoil, rage and devastation crashing inside me. “Nolan was raping me in a bathroom. Sorry,” I say flatly.
He freezes, his jaw clenching hard. But he doesn’t say anything else as I cry against Jude. Micah doesn’t follow me when I stumble back downstairs, the party roaring on like nothing has happened. Like the world hasn’t just tilted off its axis. Everything blurs—lights, laughter, music.
Fuck my life.
Fuck Nolan.
I return to the same bathroom he just used me in and lock the door. My hands shake as I pull out the cocaine. I don’t hesitate. I snort it. There’s no better way to deal with this than to numb it. And now Jude…
Now Jude is falling into the pit with us.
~*~
He shifts slightly in his sleep, his grip tightening around me for half a second. The movement is instinctive, and it pulls me from my memory.
He’s good. He’s always been good. Definitely a little reckless and stubborn as hell, but good.
He’s the kind of light that burns too bright for monsters like Nolan and Alexei to leave alone.
They can’t avoid touching it because their own black fucking souls need to smother it.
Just like me. Mine hasn’t held an ounce of light in a long time.
Nolan robbed the last spark from me years ago, and I became the very monster I was once desperate to escape.
I helped drag this beautiful light into their world anyway.
I was drowning in the dark, clawing for anything that felt safe, and aside from Finnick and Micah, Jude was the only person who never took from me.
So I took from him instead. I took my role too seriously and fixated on him.
I sank my claws into him and never let him go.
“Fuck…” The word barely leaves my lips, dissolving into the quiet room.
My thumb lifts, hesitating for a moment before brushing lightly across his cheekbone.
His skin is warm despite the coldness I know lives within him now.
The stubble along his jaw scratches faintly against my fingertip.
The life has been leaving his eyes piece by piece over the years.
I watched it happen. I watched myself help it happen. Just like what Nolan did to me.
But last night…
I think it’s gone now.
Tears blur my vision as I lean closer, pressing my forehead gently against his shoulder so I don’t wake him. “I’m sorry, Jude,” I whisper into the darkness. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
He doesn’t stir or react. His breathing never changes.
I know I’m going to die soon. Alexei has hinted more than a few times about giving me to someone.
And then he introduced us to Vlad...and I’ve been terrified ever since.
Not to mention how Erik looks at me. And if for some reason, they don't sell me, I still don't think I want to live anymore after what I've done.
I lie there, listening to the rhythm of Jude’s heartbeat beneath my ear, memorizing it. Because some terrible, instinctive part of me knows I’m listening to something that probably won’t survive this place, either.