“He’s dead. No longer an issue for us. And the others will be dying also. You belong to me, and only me.”
I sputter, my face going pale. He must be lying. My Trikk can’t be dead. I would feel it in my soul.
Besides, he said he just knocked him out. A lie to get me to go with him?
Spit flies from my mouth as I scream in rage. “You’re a dead man, you hear me? My guys will find me, and when they do, you’re cooked! And that’s only if I don’t kill you first!”
Demon slaps me hard, bending slightly to get right in my face. “You have two choices. Cooperate, and you get to stay here with me. Misbehave, and you go to the basement.”
I stare hard at him. It's shocking that this is one of my tormentors from The Morgue—the main one, at that. He's tall, over six feet at least. He's about Purge’s height but appears younger. Closer to my age, maybe. He has long, black hair, and hard, black eyes.
Valley would say he’s hot. I snort out loud with that thought.
“You don’t scare me, fucker. That ship sailed a long time ago.”
Demon stomps away for a moment, and I whirl towards the door, yanking on the handle. It doesn't budge. He comes back after a moment, and I turn back around. He’s holding something white in his hand. He shoves it at me, and I recoil, not wanting to touch it. He shoves it into my chest.
“Put that on, bride. My wife-to-be needs to be wearing white before the wedding.”
Oh my God, he’s a total lunatic.
I hold up the scrap of fabric seeing it’s a sheer, white nightgown. It's long, with a slit in the side. It plunges low, practically see-through.
“Fuck you psycho.” I toss the offending garment to the floor in defiance.
“Wrong decision, Little Bird.”
Demon grabs me, hoisting me over his shoulder. I scream and yell, beating on his back with my fists. He ignores me, marching through the living area and into the kitchen. I see wood cabinets, and an older white refrigerator and stove. I don’t see anything else, though.
Where is he taking me?
I freeze when he goes to the wall at the back of the kitchen.
The fuck?
Demon squats while holding me against him with one arm; feeling around the white tiling until he finds a loose one, prying it up with his fingertips. He puts his hand inside, rooting around. The wall moves, opening to a metal door with a lock.
Holy shit.
He stands back up, replacing the tile and yanks the same key out again, putting it in the old-fashioned lock. It's a large key; I think I’ve heard it referred to as a skeleton key in one of the movies I've seen at the Solomons.
The door opens with a swishing sound, as I continue to struggle to get away. He holds me too tight, though. Stairs appear, stone steps spiraling down farther than I can see. Demon starts down, and I do my best to look at my surroundings carefully. The walls and floors are also metal. What the hell?
Once we get to the bottom, I see hooks coming from the ceiling, tables full of torture instruments, chains, and shacklesdangling from the wall. There's a drain in the middle of the room, like the one in a shower. It sits directly under the hooks in the ceiling. Looking to my right, there’s a small, dirty mattress tossed onto the floor, chains leading to it.
I swallow hard. This is way too much like the setup Synn's father had me in for those two years he had me. The only thing missing is the cage.
Bile fills my throat. My heart starts hammering, and I feel a panic attack coming on. I choke it back somehow, waiting him out.
Demon puts me down, gabbing my chin so I’m forced to look him in his soulless eyes.
“This room is completely soundproofed, and impossible to break into, or out of. You can scream all you want. You won’t be heard. There's no one around for miles. This place isn’t searchable by GPS. Those assholes won’t find you here.” He lets my chin go. “Put on the nightgown. Now.”
I learned the hard way to choose my battles while I was with the Solomons.
I bite my tongue, grabbing it from him. “Are you going to turn around, or...?”
“No. Last time I tell you to put it on.” Demon glares hard at me. “Take everything off.”
