Chapter 41
Indie
my songs know what you did in the dark (light em up) - fall out boy
Goosebumps are rippling over every inch of my skin. Even with my thick hoodie and leggings on, the damp air still manages to seep through to my bones.
It’s definitely not the winter chill making its way down here; it’s death.
It leaks from the walls of the Pit’s cells, turning the air potent. Its screams have been captured within the hallway.
Conrad is chained up in the very end room. There’s only four in this basement, but they’re big. Where his was built to trap as many souls as possible, Saint’s are to give the illusion of freedom.
Most people die at Ultio’s hand. Only the ones they promise to release after getting them the information they need are brought down here.
Though I’ve been told none of them ever made it out.
The handle of the knife bites into the palm of my hand, my knuckles bleached white with the grip I have on it. I drag the air in through my burning lungs one last time, pulling in the darkness I hope I no longer need to call upon after this.
I don’t need it anymore; there’s no one to hunt down.
The end of the road sits just a few feet beyond me.
So I plead with evil, asking him to send me his sickest, most deranged parts of him, and course it through my veins.
I’m surprised when Saint doesn’t appear by my side.
A small part will still remain within me—it’s just who I am now, weaved into the person I had to become to survive. It won’t be needed for its initial purpose. I’ll keep that secret part for my own devil.
When I step up towards the cell door, my eyes are slow to open, and I’m confident they’re dipped in black.
Conrad is strapped to a chair in the middle of the room. His hands are now chained from the ceiling to hold them out in front of him, the podium Saint had made removed for my arrival. Locks of dark hair cover his face as his head is slumped forward, likely sleeping.
Every so often, an alarm sounds down here when he thinks he’s getting some peace. He’s a fucking idiot if he’s ever getting that from us.
From me.
I swing the key in a circle on my index finger from my free hand, the other letting the blade drag along the bars slowly. The clank of metal hitting steel claps through the basement.
His head rolls upwards, and what a sight he is to see. It brings a smile to face. His bare chest is a chaotic pattern of dark blues and musty yellows, rippled and angry red lines where metal has sliced through flesh.
Tally marks are sliced into his chest all the way down his legs, one for every woman Saint and Rex made him confess to harming. When I notice Saint and I’s name is carved into each one of his arms, it sends a wicked streak through me.
He’s been held here for over a month, Saint delivering just enough damage to make his life hell, but keeping him alive. Kyle comes in after Saint and Rex have had their hands on him, making sure the evil shit doesn’t die on us early.
I unlock the cell, kicking it open, and my hateful gaze locks with his empty one. This time, I don’t cower.
I don’t show vulnerability.
I don’t even flinch.
This time I’m in charge of the fear that festers between us.
Conrad tries and fails to wet his chapped and cracked lips, revealing his broken teeth. “Sending the woman to finish me off. Pathetic.”
My chuckle skids off the walls, running back to caress along my skin. “A woman brought you into this world, Conrad. It’s only right one takes you out.”
My feet guide me further into the room, treading slow circles around him like a lion herding its prey into a kill zone.
When I step close to his side, the chains rattle as he tries to shift, head twisting over his outraised arm to see what I’m doing.
I come to a stop behind him, letting the tip of my knife rest against his shoulder blade. The skin is thin, seeing as he’s lost weight from captivity, and a trickle of red runs down his pale skin when I apply pressure.
“We’re going to play a little game, Conrad,” I whisper close to his ear, making him flinch as he fights to get his eyes on me. “There’s only one outcome.”
“Stupid bitch,” he grits out, yanking on the chains again, letting out a whimper when the metal bites into the cuffs that have his skin raw. Saint has them coated in a toxin, and the infection on them has the skin swollen and angry; each time Conrad moves will cause him pain.
I make my way around, making sure the serrated knife carves a line along his back, causing him to hiss out in pain.
When I stand in front of him, he drops his head to his chest, and I place the blood-covered knife under his chin, tipping it upwards. “Theres also only one rule. Want to know what it is?”
To my surprise, he laughs, baring his cracked teeth. “You and your fucking psycho of a dog sure know how to play your theatrics.”
“You just have to answer one question.”
He dips his brows, normally confident voice cracking with the lack of water he gets. “And what is that?”
“Why did you want me to join?”
My jaw fights the grind when his smile grows. And he has the audacity to call Saint a psycho. This man has clearly spent too much time in his own world if he can’t see exactly who he is. “Barry didn’t tell you?”
I huff a laugh. “Nah, there wasn’t much room for conversation with him. It’s kind of hard when your skull detaches from your spine to form words. Morgan? Well, I’m sure Saint ripped out his voice box after I gutted him from balls to breastbone. He kinda stopped speaking after that.”
The smugness falters on him for a beat, and then I watch as the side of his neck tenses, red seeping over his cheeks. “Shame, guess that dies with him.”
His scream makes my ears prick back when I ram the knife just above his knee. “That’s one. I’ve got plenty more. Once I run out, I’ll pull them out and start again.”
Conrad’s chest expands as his shaky glare focuses on the knife impaled in his flesh. That will be a fucker to get out with the serrated edges.
He doesn’t answer me, so I slide the other out of its holder beneath my hoodie, sticking in his opposite leg.
“FUCK!”
I stifle a yawn, dragging a seat from the corner, letting its feet screech along the concrete, sitting myself down on it to face him. One thing Saint taught me was that silence was golden.
When the question is directed to your captive, you holding out causes them to get uncomfortable.
And I seem to be very fucking comfortable right now.
“You fucking Kent women don’t even deserve what we had planned.”
I roll my eyes, despite the bite my heart feels, crossing one leg over the other and folding my arms along my chest.
That pisses him off as he watches me with narrowed eyes. “You didn’t deserve to bear my name. Your sister wasn’t worthy of what we built.”
That…hits my nerve. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
I’m up on my feet, wide eyes filling with wrath as I whip another knife out, and it edges Conrad on. “You two were supposed to create a new blood line, a new era, as Barry pitched it.”
He laughs, weakly shaking his head. “Get these two dumb bitches at a position of power, make them think they’re doing a good job, then breed our name out. A new type of pedigree, and Kingstone would fully be ours.”
My stomach rolls, and I have to snap my gaze away from him before the flashbacks sneak in and ruin my performance.
“That’s right,” he taunts, “our night together would have been a taste of the rest of your life. And I was going to remind you of it in the tunnel. In fact, we both were.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I bark, my heart racing as I take a step backwards.
Barry wanted me to marry Conrad? To get me into a position of power like my sister, using us to infiltrate the government?
Are these people that fucking insane?
Conrad’s laugh is manic. He tugs on his chains as his head throws back, and the sound of it screeches through my ears.
When his head rolls forward, the smile instantly drops as his glare casts behind me, and a familiar voice ghosts along the nape of my neck. “Go on, Indie darling. Show him the real monster that lurks inside you.”
I turn to see Saint leaning on the cell, letting the cigarette smoke slowly blow out his mouth, hands gripping the bars at either side above his head.
The menacing look on his face has it like we’re being contained from the true animal.
“Did you ever get your letter?”
My head snaps back to Conrad.
“Some nice words in it. Brought a tear to my eye. I would have read it out to you if you hadn’t taken so long to get home.” The corner of my lips flicker upwards.
“Give me a hand, would you, Saint?” I purr, and Saint’s boots thunder off the ground, making Conrad falter as he presses back into the seat, not getting much movement as the straps and chains keep him in place.
“Get them off.”
Conrad’s eyes widen. “W-What?”
My hands wrap around both of the knives in his knees, slowly pulling them out as the torn-up flesh leaks red along his bony knees. The more he struggles, the louder his scream makes my pulse race.
Once they’re out, Saint stubs his cigarette out on Conrad’s wrist with a look of boredom, gripping the corners of his blood-covered briefs without hesitation, cutting them off with his knife.
“I promised your dad I’d tell you about his last moments,” I say, tugging the knife I have strapped to my back. It’s sharper than the rest, something I found in Saint’s belongings.
I’ve kept it until last, just in case my own didn’t get the message across.
“He begged and cried,” I add, twisting the tale to get a reaction out of Conrad.
I run my finger along the blade. “Your brother? Well, his smart mouth didn’t really get him anywhere in the end. I’m sure Gina’s done a lot of people a favour, shutting that idiot up for good.”
It works.
He thrashes in the chair, teeth bared and hair sticking to his sweat-coated skin as he tries to get out of a situation where every odd is piled up against him.
“He actually used the same comeback you two only seem to have when it comes to Gina and I. Sadly, it doesn’t have the impact you think it does. ”
My eyes drop to Conrad’s groin, then up to Saint. He gives me a look but obliges anyway. “You know why?”
Saint grabs Conrad’s dick, his other hand yanking a fistful of hair, pulling him back so he has no choice but to look at me when I speak.
“We were always going to end your reign. I’d never belong to you, Conrad.
The only man who’s able to truly capture me is standing right beside you.
” The laugh I release has a smirk tilting Saint’s lips.
“And he’s holding something you won’t need where you’re going. ”
The knife slices through flesh, blood spilling and pooling on the floor between his legs as he screams upwards to the heavens. It leaks all over my hands, finally revealing the invisible liquid that’s always coated them.
It’s fucking glorious, but the darkness within me is slipping, fading to grey.
Saint tosses the bundle of skin to the side, the noise a sickening slap as he marches over to the back wall to grab what he needs from the shelf. When he reaches a pale Conrad, he zaps a taser into his skin. “You’re staying wide awake for this part,” he growls.
Conrad’s body goes rigid, his chest caving and the vein in his neck protruding.
It’s now or never, Indie.
I ram the blade in his chest, watching how his eyes bulge and stare through me as I force it in with all my strength. The pupils rattle back at mine, and I twist it in harder, gritting through my teeth, “Run in hell, Conrad. I’ll be coming for you there too.”
Then, I pull it out and do it again. Blood coats my trembling hands, my arms, my face.
I watch life finally leave the man who tried to take mine from me.
When the gurgling stops, my hands snap away from the handle like it burned me, and the breath I was holding slams out my lungs.
I can hear my name, but it sounds like I’m underwater.
It’s over. It’s all fucking over.
I’ll never have to wonder where this man is again, never have to look over my shoulder for him.
Yet, the weight that’s laid over me for the last six years doesn’t lift itself like I expected. Like it’s always going to be there, permanently reminding me of the pressure of its impact.
Blood-stained hands grip my jaw, and that’s when I realise that tears have fallen from my eyes, landing on a blurry version of Saint.
His voice finally penetrates through the static. “Look at me, baby. He didn’t break you. I did. Keep those fucking eyes on the only man responsible for truly ruining you.”
And ruin me he did.
He drags me from the cell into the other, stripping us of the red-soaked layer that keeps us apart, and when his lips find mine, the euphoria only he can conjure from me replaces every dark thought I’ve ever had, corrupting me with his own.
Each touch feels like minefields are exploding all around me. And if I ever die caught in the crossfire, I want it to be known that it was the devil who took me.
You shouldn’t grieve me, because I’m exactly where I want to be.
I’ve finally gone home.