Chapter 33 Seven
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
SEVEN
Next week…
Grace is finally coming around.
I can see it in the way she looks at me—full of raw desire and need instead of the fear I was accustomed to. Even though she told me last week she’s mine, I still have a sick suspicion Grace will flee at the first chance she gets.
She still won’t give in to me fully, and I’m beginning to wonder if she ever will.
If there will come a day when I won’t wake up with a jolt, terrified she snuck out while I was resting.
I had gotten too comfortable before, had given her too much freedom, thinking she had chosen me—I won’t make that mistake twice.
Although I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to let her out. I hate keeping her in the cage. I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep with her in my arms, to wake up and be whole, knowing she’s by my side. Maybe tonight…
I gaze down at my phone, reading the text message again.
Dorian
Need you for cleanup at 21 Toller Ave. Unit 321.
“Great.” I turn, gazing at the roast dinner I prepared for Grace and me tonight. I was looking forward to dining with her, but if I want to keep a low profile, I need to do my work and not cause a fuss.
Sighing, I grab a set of plastic cutlery from the pantry, pick up Grace’s plate, and hurry into the white room. As soon as I step through the door, Grace looks up with wide, hopeful eyes, licking her lips at the smell of the roast.
“Where’s yours?” Her lip juts out in a slight pout. “Are you not eating with me?”
My chest clenches with disappointment. Joint dinners with Grace have become one of my favorite parts of the day—and to learn she also enjoys them is more than I can take.
“I can’t.” I crouch down to unlock the feeding slot. “I want to, but I need to take care of some Sanctum business. I’m so sorry, angel.”
Grace frowns as she reaches up to take my offerings. “What kind of business?”
I sigh, reaching through and thumbing her pouty bottom lip. “I don’t want to spoil your dinner by going into detail. But it’s… nasty work.”
“Okay,” she says. “I hope it’s over with soon.”
“Me too,” I whisper. “Me too.”
I show up at the apartment with my duffel bag in hand, filled with all the tools I need to clean up a dead body—or several—but I’m hoping it’s just the one.
As soon as I step inside the unit, I gag, my eyes watering as a nauseating mixture of scents assaults me.
It reeks of shit and cat piss, tinged with the unmistakable metallic tang of blood.
I breathe through my mouth as I step deeper inside, glad to have my mask.
If the smell is this bad with my filters, I can’t imagine what it’s like without them.
Which means this is going to be a long one. Yayy.
I follow the stench into the primary bedroom, my lips pressing together at the sight of bloodied footprints disappearing past the closed door. I push it open, fighting the urge to recoil at the sight in front of me.
My absolute worst nightmare—white shag carpet.
“Sweet fucking lord.” I reach up to pinch the bridge of my nose. “This is going to take forever.”
I haven't even looked at the bodies yet. I’m too busy staring at the blood coating the carpet, covering the walls, and the bedspread. Whichever Mask killed these people was clearly going through something—that, or he’s just a really sick individual who likes to make my job harder.
Sighing, I place my duffel bag on the bed and get to work wrapping and dismembering the corpses.
Several hours later, my back is aching, my fingers are cramped, and it feels like a thousand tiny men are hammering against the inner wall of my skull. But at least the job is done.
I check my watch, noting it’s 3:30 in the morning. “Fuck,” I curse.
It will take me at least another hour to lug the body parts down to my van.
Technically, I could do it a lot faster if I didn’t hide them in my duffel bag, but I really don’t want to be caught with an armful of body parts by an innocent civilian.
I’m trying to keep my head down and stay out of trouble—and that’s just asking for it.
Grumbling, I shove a few pieces into my bag and throw it over my shoulder, dreading the upcoming task.
I’m halfway to the exit when the doorknob jiggles, and I freeze in my tracks. The fuck…?
I watch with wide eyes as the brass knob turns, knowing there’s nothing I can do to hide from whoever is entering the apartment. They’ll have to be disposed of. Which means more cleaning…
I stifle my groan as three police officers stomp through the door, their faces set in stone as they gaze around the apartment.
“Moriton police department!” one of them shouts. “We got a call about a disturbance?”
What the fuck? My hands curl into fists as I back further into the shadows. Someone in the building must have called the police when they heard the commotion in this unit earlier. It figures they’d show up now, right when I was finishing the job. Just my fucking luck…
The officers walk deeper into the apartment, searching for any sign of struggle. If they had come an hour earlier, the smell would still be permeating the apartment, but thanks to my handiwork, they have no idea something horrible happened here. It gives me a few more seconds to plan, at least.
“Anyone home?” the second officer asks, finishing it off with a deep sigh. “Zack, I don’t think anyone’s here.”
“Well, we came all the way out. Might as well sweep the place,” the man—Zack—replies.
“Come on. It was clearly a bogus call. Let’s just head back.”
“If you want to get chewed out by the chief, be my guest,” Zack says, walking in the direction of the master bedroom. Or, more specifically, the place I’m hiding.
As the two unknown officers devolve into a heated discussion, I place the bag softly on the ground and retreat behind the door of the bedroom, watching Zack approach from a slit in the door, my heart thrumming with excitement.
Just before he reaches the threshold, he stops, gazing down in confusion at my duffel bag.
“The fuck…” He reaches down, unzipping the bag and pulling out one of the body parts—from the looks of it, a forearm. He turns the wrapped arm over in his hands, then begins peeling the tape back, revealing a thin strip of pale flesh.
“Oh my God.” His eyes go wide with horror. “Tom! Jake! Get the fuck over here!”
“What’s wrong?” Jake asks. “Holy fuck. What is that?”
“It looks like… like a fucking arm,” Tom gasps. “Fuck. You don’t think…?”
“I do.” Zack raises his head to stare at the bedroom door. “I don’t think the call was bogus…”
Zack pulls out his pistol while the other two retrieve daggers—strange, but I’m not going to question it. All three stalk single-file toward the door, and I back up, pulling my own dagger from its holster, poised to strike.
As soon as Zack steps through the door, I lunge, stabbing my blade hilt-deep into the side of his neck.
I rip it out with a wet squelch, and Zack falls to the floor, gurgling and clutching his throat, the gun lying useless on the floor.
Before one of his buddies can grab it, I deliver a powerful kick to the weapon, and it slides underneath the dresser.
“Zack! No!” Jake storms through the doorway next, jumping over his friend's body and slashing his blade wildly through the air. He’s powered by rage and sheer adrenaline, and though I’m far more skilled than Jake, his sheer brutality allows him to deliver a few painful slices to my arms and torso.
I lunge for Jake, but I don't realize Tom has slipped behind me. Just as I’m about to bring his blade down, Tom’s dagger stabs into the flesh of my shoulder, and I double forward with a soundless wheeze.
Gritting my teeth, I redirect my momentum, spinning around and jamming my blade into the side of Tom’s upper arm. It was supposed to connect with his throat, but I misjudged Tom’s height, and what should have been a fatal blow becomes a mere inconvenience.
As I’m ripping my blade out, Jake comes up behind me, slashing wildly for my throat. I dodge at the last moment, but his blade still manages to connect with my collarbone, slicing a deep gouge into the flesh.
Tom lunges forward, slicing at my arms, trying to get at my neck like his friend, but I take a step back, crouching low to avoid Jake’s unskilled attack. Grabbing a second dagger from my boot holster, I lunge forward, sinking both blades deep into Tom’s chest.
Sensing Jake about to attack, I swipe the blade from Tom’s hand and jam it back over my shoulder, smiling when it connects with Jake’s eye socket.
Both officers slump to the floor, the life draining out of them as the seconds tick by. I stand over them, breathing heavily, listening to my blood drip down onto the carpet beneath my feet.
“I fucking hate carpet…”
I close my eyes for a moment to collect myself, and that’s when he stabs me in the thigh.
My eyes fly open, connecting with Zack’s smug grin. One hand is pressing to the wound on his neck while the other grips the hilt of a dagger—the one I forgot to check his body for.
“Fuck you.” He uses the last of his strength to force the blade sideways, cutting a deep gash into my inner leg.
I cough, and bile bubbles up my throat, coating my mouth with an acrid taste as blood seeps from the fresh wound, soaking the fabric of my pants and dripping down to the floor in a puddle beneath my feet.
That’s… not good. I’m pretty sure he nicked an artery, but I can’t worry about that right now. I have to kill this asshole.
Vision fading, I reach out, wrapping my hands around Jake’s throat and squeezing hard. I stare deep into his eyes, watching the life drain slowly from his dull green eyes.
He dies in my hands. Though I should feel some sort of satisfaction, I can’t bring myself to feel much of anything. My fingers are strangely numb, my movements slow, my head unusually heavy. In the back of my mind, there’s a voice screaming that I’m dying—that I need to get help.
But the only person I want to see right now is Grace.
Somehow, I manage to make it back to my apartment in one piece. I’m pretty sure I passed out from the pain and blood loss at least three times during the ten-minute drive, and right now, I’m not quite sure I’m still alive.
I park on the side of the building on the grass, leaving the car running as I stumble toward the entrance. A trail of blood follows me into the elevator, and my vision is so blurry that when I try to push the button for Grace’s floor, I end up selecting the one below.
A few failed tries later, I stumble out of the elevator, my vision doubling as I make my way to the white room door. Shoving it open, I stagger into the room, falling forward on my face when my legs decide to give out.
“Fuck me…” I pull my body across the ground, desperate to get to Grace’s cage.
She stares with wide eyes, her body trembling like she’s in shock—and honestly, I can’t blame her. I probably look more like a monster than a man at this point.
“Seven…” She scrambles forward, clutching the cage bars with a terrified expression. “What happened?”
“Knife.” I pull myself the last few feet to the base of Grace’s cage. “Many knife. Much stab.” I’m delirious and not making any sense—but I can’t seem to get my brain to focus.
I think I might be dying…
As my vision darkens, a horrible thought occurs to me. If I die here, Grace will be stuck in that cage. She won’t be able to get out, and she’ll starve to death, forced to watch my body rotting at the foot of her cage for her last days on earth.
I need to ensure that does not happen.
With trembling fingers, I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small gold key that unlocks her cage. I try to stretch my arm out to give it to her, but my body fails me, and my arm falls to the floor a few inches from the bars.
Oh God. Not now. Not before I get to show her how much she means to me. Not before I’m able to hold her one more time.
As the thought passes through my mind, my stomach hardens with cold realization. I will never get to hold, or touch, or kiss Grace ever again. I’m going to die here, bleeding out at her feet.
Though, I suppose in a way, it’s fitting.
Picking my head up, I stare deep into her eyes as I choke out, “There’s… cash… in the bedroom dresser… will take you… anywhere you want to go.” I take a shuddering breath, wishing I had more time. Wishing I could have been happy with her.
“Seven, don’t you dare…”
“You… you’re free…” I reach out, touching the bars with a tiny smile. “I’m… sorry… so sorry…”
The world goes dark.