The room is all brick, with high, vaulted ceilings and a fire crackling in a fireplace on one side. There’s a sitting area with two couches, a makeshift kitchen with piping for a sink coming out of the wall plus a fridge, and a bed.
But none of that is what has my jaw hitting the floor.
Vaughn is shirtless, his chest heaving and his broad shoulders trembling. Blood trickles down his body from a myriad of horrible whip marks crisscrossing his muscled back.
The instrument of those marks—a leather riding crop glistening with blood—is inhis own hand.His face is twisted demonicallywith rage, his eyes bulging and his jaw clenched as he brandishes the riding crop almost like it’s a gun.
But it’sthe other personin the room—a much older, gray-haired man standing facing him—who actually has a gun wrapped in his fingers, his cold gaze and the barrel both trained lethally on Vaughn.
Everything freezes. Slowly, the older man turns, and when he sees me standing in the doorway, his lips curl wickedly.
“Ahh, so she arrives,” he murmurs.
The gun is suddenly pointing atme.
I gasp, going stock-still as the man with the dark look in his eyes and the gun in his hand smiles venomously at me.
“Won’t you come in, my dear.”
“No!” Vaughn roars when he sees me, his whole face going white. “No, Evelina! RUN!!”
The older man shakes his head. “I wouldn’t advise that,” he growls as he glances significantly at the gun in his hand.
My pulse skips as I turn to look at Vaughn. There's a visceral fear in his eyes I’ve never seen before.
“Get out, Evelina,” he chokes. “Please. Just go.”
“Oh, she’s not stupid enough to do that,” the older man smiles, chuckling.
“He won’t hurt you!” Vaughn roars. “I WON’T HURT YOU!”
“Vaughn—!” I scream. “Vaughn, who?—”
“No one!” he blurts, his face haggard and lined as he turns to me. “Justgo, princess. Please, before I do something terrible!!”
What?
“Vaughn, I—who?—”
“Get OUT!” he roars.
Suddenly, he’s raising the riding crop and whirling to point it at the other man.
“Stop it!” he bellows. “Put the fucking gun down, Quentin!!” His lips curl as blood drips down his body. “Quentin,quit pointing thatfucking gun at her!!”
A shudder wrenches through me as my eyes dart between them.
“Vaughn—” I choke. “Vaughn, who?—”
“He’s not real, Evelina!” Vaughn’s face crumples. “He’s just in my head! He’sme, and if you get the fuck out now, I can stop him from hurting you!”
Horror washes over me.
“Vaughn,” I murmur, staring at him and then at the man holding a gun. “Vaughn, he’s?—”
“He’sme, baby,” he chokes, dropping to his knees and shaking his head.
“Vaughn—”
