I shoved the door open.
The room was a nightmare brought to life. The faint glow of a single bulb illuminated the space, casting long, twisted shadows across the walls. Chains hung from the ceiling, their ends frayed and rusted. A table stood in the center, its surface slick with blood and littered with tools—scalpels, pliers, saws. The stench was overwhelming, a sickening blend of iron, sweat, and decay.
And there she was.
Dove was strapped to a chair, her wrists bound with thick leather straps, her head slumped forward. Her hair clung to her face, damp with sweat and streaked with blood. Her breaths were shallow, her chest rising and falling in weak, uneven rhythms.
“Dove,” I choked, the sound barely audible over the pounding in my ears.
Her head lifted slowly, her eyes glassy and unfocused. When she saw me, a faint spark of recognition flickered in her gaze, but it was quickly overshadowed by fear.
“Ashton,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, broken. “It’s a trap.”
The words barely registered before I heard the creak of a floorboard behind me. I turned just in time to see Bentley lunging at me, a scalpel gleaming in his hand. I raised my arminstinctively, the blade slicing through my jacket and grazing my skin. Pain flared, hot and sharp, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it.
I swung the flashlight, the heavy metal connecting with Bentley’s temple. He stumbled back, blood trickling down his face, but the grin never left his lips.
“You’re too late, Riley,” he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “She’s mine.”
I surged forward, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall. “She’ll never be yours,” I growled, my voice shaking with rage. “You’ve already lost.”
Bentley laughed, the sound grating and unhinged. “You think you’ve won? You think you can save her? Look around you, Riley. This is her fate. This is what she was born for.”
My fist connected with his face, the impact sending a jolt of pain through my knuckles. He crumpled to the ground, his laughter fading into a low, guttural groan.
I didn’t waste a second. I turned back to Dove, my hands shaking as I worked to free her from the restraints. The leather straps were stiff and unyielding, but I pulled and tore until they gave way. She collapsed into my arms, her body trembling, her skin cold and clammy.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered, cradling her against my chest. “You’re safe now.”
Her fingers clutched at my shirt, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.
“He… he won’t stop,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “He’ll never stop.”
I pressed a kiss to her hair, my heart breaking at the pain in her voice. “He won’t touch you again,” I promised, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “I’ll make sure of it.”
As I carried her toward the door, I glanced back at Bentley’scrumpled form. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his eyes fluttering closed. For a brief moment, I considered ending it here and now, putting an end to the nightmare he had created.
But Dove’s weak, trembling voice pulled me back. “Please,” she whispered. “Just take me home.”
Home.
The word hit me like a punch to the gut, a reminder of everything I had taken from her, everything I still had to make right. I tightened my grip on her, my resolve hardening.
This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. But for now, I had her in my arms, and I wasn’t letting go.
39
LILITH
The room reeked of blood, sweat, and desperation. My boots clicked against the cracked tile as I stepped through the doorway, the shadows welcoming me like old friends. The dim light from the single dangling bulb cast long, jagged shadows across the walls, making the grotesque tools on the blood-streaked table look like instruments of the devil himself.
And there he was.
Bentley James lay crumpled on the floor, a heap of flesh and malice, his grin smeared with his own blood. He twitched, a weak laugh bubbling up from his throat, even in his broken state. It was pathetic, really. A man who had terrorized so many brought so much pain, reduced to this.
The psychopaths entered behind me, their movements deliberate, each one exuding a madness that barely clung to the leash I held. Grin, the wiry one with the painted face, slithered toward the table of tools, his bony fingers twitching with anticipation. Brick, the hulking brute, cracked his knuckles, his eyes gleaming with unhinged excitement. And then there wasViolet, her dark lips curling into a smile as she twirled a scalpel between her fingers like a toy.
“Well, well,” I drawled, crouching beside Bentley. My red leather jacket creaked as I rested my elbows on my knees, tilting my head to examine him. “You look like shit.”
