26. Briar
Chapter Twenty-Six
brIAR
Isink deeper into the warm water, letting it soothe my aching muscles.
Every part of me hurts in the most intimate, overwhelming way.
My body melts into the heat, but my mind refuses to quiet.
I am completely alone in this enormous gothic mansion, surrounded by stone walls and shadows that seem to watch me.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
I cannot leave. Not with those twins out there.
The memory of them still sends ice down my spine.
I had been running, so careful, so sure I was alone, until a pair of strong, tattooed arms wrapped around my waist like steel bands.
I had screamed until my throat burned, but he lifted me as if I weighed nothing.
Then the second one stepped in front of me, face hidden behind that eerie skull mask.
They are out there as Drystans’ watch dogs… And there are the cameras he has in this place…
I glance nervously at the corners of the ceiling and walls. “Where the hell did he put the cameras?” I whisper into the steam.
I sit up slowly and reach for my favorite orange blossom shower gel and conditioner. Everything here is perfect. Every scent, every texture, chosen for me. The only thing missing is Lucille.
I step out of the tub on shaky legs, wrap a soft towel around my body, and spot the phone he left on the bed. My heart leaps. I snatch it up, unlock it with a simple swipe and stare at the single contact saved, his number.
I have to try.
I tap in her number. The call connects for half a second before the screen flashes: No service.
Of course.
A tear slips down my cheek as I sink onto the edge of the bed. I miss her so much it physically hurts. She must be losing her mind with worry.
The phone pings with a text.
“You can call Lucille. Do not tell her where you are or ask for help.”
My stomach twists. He’s monitoring everything. Can he hear the call too? I don’t care. I won’t put her in danger either way. I tap in her number again. It rings once… twice… three times.
She answers, and I let out a sob.
“Hello? Briar? Is that you? Please, God, tell me it’s you!” Her voice cracks, thick with tears, and the sound breaks something inside me.
“It’s me, Lu,” I cry out, unable to hold it back. “It’s me. I’m safe.”
“Where are you? I’m going to the cops right now—we’re going to find you.” I can hear her moving fast, breathing ragged, keys jingling in the background.
“No, Lu. Stop. Please, just wait and hear me out first.” I stand up, clutching the towel tightly against my chest with one trembling hand.
“Where are you?” she demands, voice rising with panic and hope.
“Lu, sit down, okay? I have a lot to tell you, but I need you to stay calm and listen.” I clear my throat, trying to steady myself. There’s a long pause, then her shaky breath.
“Okay… I’m listening.”
Tears keep falling as I pace the bedroom, bare feet silent on the thick rug. “Remember the stalker I told you about?”
“Yes,” she says softly.
“Well… he saved me.” My voice wavers. “I went to the bar a block from the apartment. There was a man there. He seemed nice, offered to walk me out and wait for my ride. But then he—”
My heart feels like it’s going to shatter my ribs. The words catch in my throat, heavy and painful.
“Briar?” Lucille’s voice softens, sweet and heavy with worry that wraps around my heart like a lifeline.
“He tried to rape me,” I murmur, the words scraping raw from my throat. “He was going to kidnap me, but Drystan—” I slap a hand over my mouth the second his name slips out, terror flashing through me. He’s going to end the call. I know he is.
“Drystan? That’s the stalker?” Her tone shifts to surprise.
“Yes… he saved me. He got there in time and pulled that monster off me.” I swallow hard, carefully choosing every word. “He told me he could protect me, that he had been doing it for a long time. I was so scared, Lu. I didn’t want to drag you into danger too, so I… I went with him.”
“Shit, Briar! Why didn’t you call me? I went to the cops and they said there was nothing they could do. I searched every shitty motel, every bar, every alley. I even got this weird text I knew wasn’t from you.” Her words tumble out fast and breathless, each one laced with pain and relief.
“I know. I’m so sorry.” Tears stream down my face as I keep pacing the bedroom, clutching the towel tighter around my chest. “I did something stupid. He has these… serums with hellebore in them. I took one by mistake and passed out. He took care of me after that.”
The lies taste bitter on my tongue, but I cannot tell her the full truth. She would come looking for me, and Drystan would destroy her without hesitation.
“When are you coming back?” she asks, hope cracking through her voice.
“I don’t know.” My own voice trembles. “I told him, Lu. I told him what happened five years ago… and he wants to find them.”
There’s a heavy pause. “How can I help?”
The offer catches me off guard, love swelling painfully in my chest.
“Lu… he will kill them,” I confess, voice low.
“I know,” she replies, her tone turning ice-cold and fierce. “I hope he makes them suffer.”
“Jesus, Lucille…” I shake my head, a broken laugh escaping through my tears.
“Are you really safe?” she asks, deadly serious now.
I close my eyes for a moment, and for the first time in this conversation, I speak only the truth. “I am. I promise. Drystan is… different. Unhinged in ways I can’t explain. But he would never hurt me.”
She hums softly on the other end. “When will I see you again?”
I take a shaky breath. “Probably once he finds them.” Another lie. The thought that he might never let me see her again twists like a knife in my chest.
“I miss you so much, Briar,” she says, her voice cracking.
“I miss you too. So much.” I smile through the tears, even though she cannot see it.
“So, he’s not some old man creep—” She asks, changing the subject the way she always does when things get too heavy.
“Oh definitely not.” I glance around the room nervously, half-expecting Drystan to appear. “He has nine piercings.”
“NINE?!” she shrieks.
A real laugh bubbles out of me, the first genuine one since this nightmare began. “Yes. And he fucks like the devil himself.”
She lets out a dramatic whimper. “Lucky you!”
We laugh together, the sound wrapping around me like a warm blanket, and for a few precious seconds the mansion doesn’t feel quite so suffocating. I know I need to hang up, I don’t think Drystan will enjoy all the sharing that we usually do and he will probably cut the line.
“I promise I’ll call and text you every day, okay?” I whisper, not wanting to let her go.
“I love you, Briar.”
“I love you too, Lu.”
The call ends and a text appears almost immediately.
“Good girl. Her number will stay unblocked but remember I can see and hear everything you do on this phone.”
“Thank you for letting me talk to her.” I stare at the screen for a long moment, my fingers still trembling as I watch the message deliver but no reply comes.
I get dressed quickly inside the walk-in closet, glancing nervously at the corners and shelves.
I have no idea if he has a camera hidden in here too.
The thought makes my skin prickle with unease, even though he has already seen every inch of me, naked, exposed, and lost in pleasure.
Still, the possibility of being watched right now sends a quiet shiver through me.
I step out and walk down the long hallway, then descend the stairs.
I take a turn and enter the massive living room.
The furniture is all deep black and rich reds, heavy and elegant in the dim light.
Ornamented windows let through a few pale sun rays that manage to slip between the clouds, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.
From here I can see the overgrown garden and the old stone fountain standing silent outside.
I walk closer to the fireplace and take a deep breath before lifting my gaze to the painting.
It is so strange… how something so bloody and violent can still feel heavy with love and obsession.
In it, Drystan looks at me with pure, devastating devotion, his heart bleeding into my hands, his expression strangely peaceful, as if every drop of pain had been worth it.
The sight unsettles me deep in my chest.
I come closer, rising onto my tiptoes, and reach out to touch the bottom of the canvas where the painted blood pools darkest. I still cannot believe that psycho used my actual blood for this. Who steals someone’s blood from a clinic? The thought makes my stomach twist in a complicated way.
I step back, suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion.
Instead of going to the bedroom, I sink onto the large leather couch and pull the soft blanket over myself.
The bedroom feels too intimate right now, too full of him and everything we have done.
I curl up, letting the weight of the day press down on me.
I close my eyes and finally let sleep take me.
A violent crack of thunder jolts me awake. The windows rattle violently in their frames, as if the storm itself is trying to claw its way inside the mansion. The weather has been relentless for weeks, turning this place even more eerie, more alive with shadows.
I glance at the old clock above the couch. Eleven hours. I slept for eleven hours. The realization settles over me slowly, perhaps because I haven’t had a real night’s rest in days, and Drystan has been fucking me mercilessly whenever he wants.
Another thunderclap makes me flinch. I push myself up and spot the stereo across the room.
I walk over, turn it on, and press play.
MGMT’s “Little Dark Age” fills the space, low and hypnotic.
I crank the volume until it drowns out the storm.
Sleep Token and this… so this is what Drystan listens to in the dark.
It’s four in the morning, but there are no neighbors, no one to hear me.
The song’s swaying rhythm pulls at something restless inside me, and I begin to move, slow and languid, hips swaying as I drift between the paintings.
Dark woods, black crows, fields of hellebore.
All of them watching me with silent intensity.
The walls are rough dark stone reinforced with thick wooden beams. A massive rug covers most of the floor, soft beneath my bare feet.
I keep dancing, letting the music sink into my bones. Something wild and unfamiliar stirs in my chest, a darker version of myself I have never let anyone see. Not even Lucille.
I move toward the fireplace, stack some wood and kindling, and strike the lighter. Flames roar to life instantly. I press the button for the fan and the fire surges higher, tall and hungry, casting flickering gold and shadow across the room. The hearth is so large I could lie down inside it.
“Dead Throne” by Arankai begins to play, the guttural screams vibrating through my body. I walk to the bar, grab a bottle, and take a long drink, letting the burn spread through me as I dance harder, hips rolling, hair falling wild around my face.
My phone pings on the coffee table. I slide toward it, still moving.
“Behave, my love. Eat. Stop drinking.”
So he is watching. The knowledge sends a dangerous thrill straight between my legs, heat pooling fast and slick.
I set the bottle down and bend slowly over the coffee table, deliberately pulling my sweatpants and panties down my thighs. Cool air kisses my bare skin. Another ping.
I pick up the phone and smile at the screen.
“Briar. Stop whatever you are thinking about doing.”
My cheeks burn. My heart races. But instead of stopping, something inside me, something newly awakened, something that feels safe only because of him, pushes me forward.
I carry the phone to the center of the massive rug, right in front of the roaring fire and that bloody painting of us.
The flames cast dancing shadows over my body as I kneel, then lie back, spreading my legs wide toward the fire, toward him.
My hand slides down my stomach to my already soaked pussy. Another ping. “Briar. Stop.”
I text back with shaky fingers: “Enjoy the show, Stalker.”
I thrust one finger inside myself slowly, arching my back as I pinch my nipple through my shirt. Pleasure sparks hot and sharp. I look at the phone as it lights up again.
“Fuck, Briar.”
I smirk, drunk on the power I suddenly feel.
I reach for the bottle, hesitation flickering for half a second.
Am I really going to do this? But the thought dissolves almost instantly.
Drystan makes me feel safe enough to be this filthy, this unhinged.
He makes me want to explore every dark fantasy I have buried for years.
I coat the top of the bottle with my own wetness, then press it against my entrance. Slowly, I sink it inside me, not too deep, just enough to stretch and burn in the most delicious way. A loud, shameless moan of his name spills from my lips as I start to move it.
Another text enters my phone and I look aside to see it.
“I need you to be louder my love.”