Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
JUDE GRAVES
I half expected Alexei to hurt me for killing that piece of shit who raped Adriana. But he didn’t. Honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised.
I’m strapped to the chair, wrists bound, ankles locked, my body shaking so hard the restraints are rattling. My skin feels like it’s crawling off my bones, nerves screaming for something they aren’t getting. Morning dose denied. Again.
Erik stands off to the side with my kit. Rubber tourniquet, syringe, and vial. He’s ready, just waiting for permission. He’s shit at shooting up because my veins are blown to hell. He always fucking misses and digs. Doesn’t matter. Pain is part of the point, I suppose. These sessions are daily now.
I glance past Alexei and spot Adriana sitting against the far wall, knees pulled to her chest, chewing her nails down to nothing. Alexei hasn’t even looked at her. He’s barely acknowledged her since executing Nolan in front of us, and I think that’s what’s scaring the shit out of her.
Unfortunately, it tells me more about what he eventually plans to do with her. She, like the thin, frail girl he keeps prisoner here, is inventory. Someone he can trade and sell, without a care in the goddamn world. I wonder, distantly, if that’s what tonight’s event is really about.
“Alright,” Alexei says, finally stepping into my line of sight. He looks annoyed. “Someone is still poking around my defenses, little rockstar.” He crouches until we’re eye level. “Who the fuck would be doing that, hmm?”
I stare at him.
Fuck.
It has to be Rook. Which means Micah. Which means—
Goddammit.
“I don’t know, man,” I mutter.
Alexei straightens slowly, towering over me. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with your little friends, would it?”
I snort despite myself. “No. Micah’s a drummer. Heather’s a fucking nurse. And—”
Stop.
Don’t say her name.
“And she’s a goddamn art therapist,” I finish. “No one’s a technical genius. They’re nothing.”
Alexei studies me. His eyes narrow, but he seems to drop it. Then—
CRACK.
His fist slams into my face.
My head snaps to the side, vision exploding into pure white light. Blood floods my mouth, and I taste copper. One of my teeth cut my lip.
“Paparazzi’s finally fucked off trying to find you,” he says calmly, like he didn’t just hit me. “Everyone assumes you’re a lost cause now. Drugged-out. Close to death. A burnt-out star that has fallen from grace. A fallen star, if you will.” He huffs a quiet laugh.
I clench my jaw and swallow blood.
He smiles faintly. “Anyway,” he says, straightening his cuffs. “Let’s get to work.”
He gestures, and Aiden steps forward.
Fuck.
They attach the electric clamps methodically, one to my collarbone, one to my rib cage, one on my thigh. The shakes are getting worse in anticipation.
Please, no. Please, stop.
Alexei circles me as he speaks, voice conversational. “You know what’s fascinating about the human brain, Jude?”
No answer required.
“It loves patterns. Associations. You show it something often enough, pair it with the right stimulus…it rewires itself for you.”
The first shock hits without warning, and my back arches violently against the restraints. A scream tears out of me, the world collapsing into pain. When it stops, I’m gasping, sweat pouring down my spine.
Alexei nods to someone behind me, probably Aiden.
He snatches my jaw and forces my gaze to the screen Alexei is holding in front of my face.
My stomach drops. It’s another old Instagram photo of her.
She’s laughing, with sunlight in her hair, reaching toward the camera like she doesn’t want her photo taken.
That stupid soft smile she used to give me.
Another shock. Longer.
I choke on a sob, and when I glance at Adriana, she has a hand clamped over her mouth, crying. There’s been so many days just like this that I can barely tell them apart from one another.
The fucker just won't give this up.
“You see,” Alexei murmurs, crouching again. “I saw all of your texts. You really loved her, huh?”
I refuse to answer. Then the screen changes to another image of her with Heather, grinning on her father’s sailboat.
Shock.
I scream this time. Can’t stop it. My vision blurs, and my body shakes uncontrollably.
“She’s dangerous to you,” Alexei continues, voice almost kind. “Every time you think of her, I want it to fucking hurt.”
Another photo.
“I showed her to Vlad, and he seemed to salivate,” he growls, snatching my jaw and forcing my gaze to his. “So you’re going to be good. You’re going to break, little rockstar. And we won’t touch her.”
"I don't fucking care about her anymore," I rasp. "This is futile. You're just pissing me the fuck off now."
He grins. "Unlike you, I know how this works. I can't shape you overnight. It takes time. Plus, you're an addict. You'll chase whatever makes you feel good. I need to make sure that little bitch doesn't feel good, you understand? Because this is your life now."
Shock.
My chest hurts so bad I want to die. I can feel myself going numb, and the worst part is knowing what I’m losing first. I’m sobbing openly now.
I thought I was past this. I thought I was past feelings.
Fuck. My head hangs forward, spit and blood dripping onto the concrete.
Somewhere in the haze, I hear Adriana whimper.
Alexei stands, satisfied. “Again,” he says. And in my head, I’m begging for my heart to just fucking give out already.
Erik forces that needle into my arm, and I let out a small moan that I loathe.
Finally. The meth burns through me too fast. By the time Erik finally unlocks the restraints and hauls me to my feet, my hands are already shaking in a different way, jittering instead of craving.
My jaw aches from clenching, and my thoughts feel like they’re sprinting ahead of my body.
How can the human body take so much? How have I not fucking died yet?
“Seven o’clock,” Alexei says from behind us as we head for the stairs. “Be ready.”
The basement door shuts behind us with a heavy metallic thud, sealing the smell of blood and sweat down there where it belongs. Cold air hits my face when we step outside, and I inhale hard, chest expanding like I haven’t breathed all day.
Adriana walks quietly beside me, arms folded tight across herself. She hasn’t said a word since the session ended. Neither have I.
By the time we reach the guesthouse, my mind has made up what I need to do. I stop as she goes to open the door. “You should go inside,” I tell her.
She hesitates, studying me, like she’s trying to decide whether I’m about to do something stupid. Fair concern, honestly.
“I’ll be right there.”
Another second passes, then she finally nods and slips through the door.
I stand there alone for a moment, breathing.
The world feels brighter than it should for a gray November afternoon.
The pool has been covered with a white tarp, stretched tightly over it.
We’re supposed to get snow tonight. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.
For a second, I just stare at the screen. Then I scroll down.
Micah.
My thumb taps the contact and unblocks him, hesitates for half a heartbeat, then I start typing.
Back the fuck off.
I pause, jaw tightening, then keep going.
You have no idea who you’re messing with. I know exactly who he plans to sell her to if you keep poking around, and you don’t want that. None of you do. He’s a bad fucking man, Micah. Just leave me alone.
My fingers move faster, anger bleeding straight onto the screen.
If you want Heather and her to stay alive, you’ll stop. Right now. Walk away before you get them fucking killed.
I pause before I write this last message. I’m pissed the fuck off right now. Not worried, or hopeful. I’m just furious.
If you show up, I will kill you myself. All of you.
I read it once, and without thinking too much about it, I hit send.
Then immediately block the contact again.
The phone goes back into my pocket, and I stand there another moment, breathing hard, watching my own reflection in the small window on the door.
My pulse is pounding so loud it almost drowns out everything else.
Let them hate me.
I push the door open and step inside. Adriana is already stretched out on the couch, some random movie playing on the TV. It looks like a comedy where the characters are supposed to be doing something funny. But she’s not laughing. She barely even moves when I come in.
I drop onto the couch beside her, kick my feet up onto the small coffee table, and let my head fall back.
The cushions swallow me. For a while, we just sit there, watching the movie without actually watching it.
The meth keeps my body wired, but my brain feels strangely distant, like I’m floating in the middle of my brain or some shit.
Adriana doesn’t reach for me as she would normally do. I’m fine with that. Every day, she looks a little more horrified by what they’re doing to us. Every day, I feel a little less.
I glance sideways at her and see that same empty stare I catch in the mirror sometimes. The movie light flickers across her face, but her eyes aren’t following anything on the screen. She just turned it on so there’d be noise.
A timer on the cable box catches my eye. Lovely. We only have a couple of hours before we need to go to this stupid fucking party. Thankfully, I don’t have to perform tonight. That’s why Alexei seemed fine with beating the fuck out of me.
A sudden knock sounds at the door, and a moment later Erik steps in carrying a paper bag and a drink tray. He sets them on the table without saying much and leaves just as quickly.
Yeah, motherfucker, I’ll kill you, too.
I nudge Adriana lightly with my elbow. “Hey. We should eat something.”