He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. The truth is in his eyes—in the way they darken, a sign of resignation passing through them, as if he has no better answer.
“Because you’re also broken. Just like I was.”
“Fuck you. I’m nothing like you.”
He steps closer, his hand reaching out to touch my cheek, but I slap it away, backing up until my back hits the cold, unyielding wall. “Let me go, Adrian.”
I glance around the kitchen, searching for something, anything I can use to break out. I slip past him and grab a knife from the block on the counter, but Adrian grabs my wrist with a strength that’s nothing short of inhuman. He twists, and the knife falls from my grip, clattering to the floor.
“It won’t work. You can’t break the house. You can’t escape it.”
I wrench my wrist free, then punch him in the face, tears streaking my cheeks. “Motherfucker! Let me go!”
He just takes it as I swing again and again until my arm tire out.
“One last performance, Jasper. Then it will all be over.”
The final words stick in my chest, cold, suffocating. And I know—there’s no escaping this place.
Not for me.
Not for anyone.
Because the house always wins.
Chapter 13
The ballroom is cold. The kind of cold that sinks into your bones, chilling you from the inside out, making your soul feel like it’s been dipped in ice.
I stand on the stage, my chest heaving, the skull mask clinging to my face like a second skin. The air’s thick with a pungent, musky scent that’s clawing its way into my lungs until I can’t breathe anything else.
Adrian hovers to my right—too far to touch, too close to forget. “You’ve come this far. All that’s left now is to let go completely. To offer yourself.”
My teeth clench together as I breathe through my nose.
One final fucking act and then I’m free.
Too bad I can’t burn this place down on my way out.
I move toward the thick, black silicone dildo at the center of the stage, a bottle of lube resting beside it. At least this time Adrian won’t be fucking me. No one will.
It’s a solo act. I can do this.
Taking a deep breath, I drop to my knees and set up the dildo so it stands tall and straight, like the cursed centerpiece of this fucked-up exhibition. Then I pour lube onto my hand and coat the rubber shaft.
“Fucking hate you,” I mutter under my breath as I spread more of the lube onto my fingers.
The audience watches as I reach behind myself, stretching myself open. My pulse is so loud in my ears, it drowns out everything else.
Almost.
I slip in a second finger, then a third, pushing deep and slow. They slide in smoothly, the lube mixing with the heat of my body, and despite everything, my cock thickens between my legs.
“Keep going, Jasper.”
I turn my head, glaring at Adrian. “Shut the fuck up.”
After removing my fingers, I position myself, then lower onto the dildo. My ass swallows the thick head with a slow, wet stretch. I hiss at the burn, at the pleasure, hating how good it feels. Then I push down farther, groaning involuntarily as it fills me.
