Before, it was too late.
The icy windcut through the heavy leather of my jacket, but the cold didn’t bother me. Not when I had this hollow rage burning in my chest. My eyes stayed locked on the crumbling monstrosity of the abandoned hospital ahead, its jagged towers looming like broken fingers against the midnight sky. The air was thick with decay, the stench of rotting wood and damp earth pressing into my lungs with every breath.
Lilith moved beside me, her boots crunching in the snow. She had a bounce in her step, completely unfazed by the suffocating aura of the place. She always carried herself like she was walking through her own personal circus—grinning, swaying, taunting. Tonight was no different.
Her outfit, if you could call it that, was as chaotic as herpersonality. She wore a short red leather jacket over a corset laced with black ribbons, paired with a tulle skirt that looked like it had been dragged through hell and back. Torn fishnets clung to her legs, and her combat boots—polished to a mirror shine—seemed at odds with the mess of her other attire. Her hair, streaked with vibrant reds and blues, was piled into two messy pigtails that made her look both playful and sinister, like the ghost of some deranged doll.
Lilith caught me staring and cocked her head, a slow, sly grin spreading across her face. “Careful, Ash. People might think you like what you see.”
I gritted my teeth and turned away, forcing myself to focus on the building ahead. I didn’t have time for her games. Not tonight.
She let out a low, taunting whistle, the sound high-pitched and lilting, like a lullaby twisted into something grotesque. The whistle carried through the stillness, cutting through the oppressive silence like a blade. My muscles tensed, instinct kicking in. The air grew heavier, colder. The wind seemed to die, and for a moment, there was nothing but the echo of her whistle bouncing off the decrepit walls of the hospital.
And then I heard it. Rustling.
From the shadows, they emerged, one by one. The circus psychopaths.
I’d seen them before, but it didn’t make it any easier to look at them now. They were a living nightmare, each one more twisted than the last. The first was a hulking brute, his face hidden behind a cracked porcelain clown mask. His massive frame seemed to swallow the surrounding darkness, his hands covered in fingerless gloves with jagged metal spikes jutting out of the knuckles.
Behind him, a wiry figure skittered into view, moving on all fours like an insect. Her head jerked unnaturally, and herpainted-on smile—crimson and smeared—looked like it had been carved into her face. She wore a tattered leotard covered in sequins that caught the faint light of the moon, making her look almost ethereal if you ignored the unsettling twitch of her limbs.
More followed. A man with eyes so wild they gleamed like polished steel. Another with a face painted half white, half black, carrying what looked like a child’s toy box slung over his shoulder. Each one was a walking caricature of horror—unhinged, deranged, and undeniably dangerous.
They gathered around us, their presence suffocating. My rage simmered just below the surface, my fists curling at my sides. Every instinct screamed at me to tear them apart, to demand they tell me what they knew about Dove, but Lilith stepped in front of me, blocking my path.
“Easy, tiger,” she said, her voice sing-song but sharp. “They’re not here for you. Not yet.”
I glared at her, my jaw clenched so tight I thought it might snap. “Why the hell are they here, Lilith?”
She twirled on her heel, spreading her arms wide like she was introducing a show. “They’re here for the grand finale, of course. To make sure the villain gets what’s coming to him.”
Her words hit me like a brick. “Bentley James,” I growled, the name tasting like poison on my tongue.
Lilith clapped her hands, the sound echoing through the stillness. “Ding, ding, ding! You got it. Thought you might need a little help to take him down, considering how emotional you are about your little pet.”
Rage boiled over, and I stepped closer, towering over her. “This isn’t a game, Lilith. This isn’t some twisted performance for your freak show. Dove’s life is on the line.”
Her grin didn’t falter, but her eyes glinted with something darker. “Oh, Ash, don’t you get it? That’s what makes it fun.Life and death, chaos and control—it’s all one big, messy masterpiece.”
I wanted to yell at her, to grab her and shake her until the madness left her eyes, but I couldn’t afford to waste time. My gaze flicked back to the hospital, its dark silhouette looming like a specter, and the knot of fear in my stomach tightened.
If Dove was inside—if Bentley had her—every second I spent out here was a second closer to losing her forever.
“I don’t need your help,” I spat, my voice low and venomous.
Lilith tilted her head, her grin widening. “Maybe not. But we’re here, anyway. You know, just in case.”
Her words sent a chill down my spine, but I didn’t have time to dwell on them. I turned toward the hospital, the circus psychopaths falling into step behind us like the twisted entourage they were. As we approached the crumbling front doors, the air grew colder, heavier. The stench of rot and mildew filled my nose, and the weight of what lay ahead pressed down on me like a physical force.
I clenched my fists, my jaw tight as I forced myself to take another step. Then another. Dove’s face flashed in my mind—her smile, her laughter, her tears—and the thought of losing her was enough to drown out the fear.
I would find her. I would save her. And I would destroy anyone who tried to stop me.
37
ASHTON
The doors groaned as they swung open; the sound reverberating through the cold, empty halls like a dying scream. The air that rushed out hit me like a wave, thick with the stench of rot, mildew, and something far worse—something acrid, metallic. Blood. My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat as I stepped over the threshold.
