My chest heaves, and my pulse screams in my ears with terror, and the need to flee. I attempt to pivot, my eyes the only part of me unfrozen, looking desperately for an exit that isn’t there. The walls stretch and breathe with my rapidly increasing panic. Beads of cold sweat trickle down my skin, leaving an itch in their wake. Cheyanne makes a dreadful gasping noise, her eyes rolling into the back of her skull, as the mixtures of Rawdon, Cross, and shadows, laugh as they pull out of her mouth and cum all over her face, caking her in a mess.
My body begins to tremble as my own throat tightens. “Stop,” I whisper. “Please stop.” But the shadow only leans closer, and laughs as he murders my best friend ruthlessly, and sadistically, before my helpless eyes.
More shadows seem to fill the space, closing in and blocking my view of Cheyanne. I can feel their anger, hate, and lust. Their breaths skate over my naked flesh, pebbled with goosebumps, and their heavy, musky, masculine scents fill mynose, until every drop of air entering my lungs is drenched with it. The weight of the nightmare presses in, helping to convince me that I'm going to die now. My body remembers, before my mind does, the pain of losing Cheyanne, of losing myself, and it shatters me until all I feel is burning despair in every molecule of my being. Every muscle locks tight, and my lungs seize. This is it, this is when I die too. I didn't make it out. I've been trapped in this hell the whole time.
Nightmare! The thought penetrates through my spiraling panic, even as I feel something touching my most intimate parts. I try to pull away, but my body still resists. I can’t tell if I’m awake, asleep, or somewhere in between. "Fuck, so tight and warm, shit. If I put my cock inside of her, I might just welcome death."
My skin crawls with the sensation of various fingers sliding along my legs, arms, and gripping my breasts and pussy lips. A finger circles my clit, rubbing back and forth before darting inside of my tight hole, thrusting once, twice, and then disappearing as if it were never there. "No! No, please!" I beg, but it's useless; no one is listening.
My vision fractures, the darkness abating, that voice, I know it. A flash of the library, and a cage, blares through my consciousness. Damon’s wild hazel eyes burn with a feverish light, too bright and alive in complete contrast to the shadowed version of Rawdon. The green in them shimmers like glass on the edge of shattering, while the gold flickers with something feral and unspeakably wrong. You can clearly see the moment any sanity he possesses has slipped, the way a flame gutters before it consumes everything in its path, just like he's going to do to me.
Somehow, I manage to blink, and when my sight refocuses, the music is loud again, and someone is screaming and calling my name. A door slams, rattling my teeth, and harsh handsreach for me. My heart is once again clawing at my ribs, desperate to get out, as I fight to breathe, to move my limbs, to wake up and escape this fucking nightmare that is plaguing me, and wrapping me in a cyclone of desperation and madness.
The shadows twist, blinking in and out of nothingness, and into faces I almost know, bringing me further into awareness. River’s smirk, Cross’s fury, and Damon’s whispering madness greet me, all blending into one monstrous reflection that leans down and says, “You can’t escape what you are, Olly. You're already dead, you just don't know it yet.”
My mind is muddled and confused by too many sensations and scenes, and my senses can no longer tell which way is up.What the fuck is happening to me?This is so much more than just a dream; there's a feeling of realness to it that is even more frightening, but why can't I move and fight what's happening to me?
CHAPTER 28
RIVER
Ishouldn't be carrying her, not like this. Not unconscious, her head bouncing against my chest, as if she trusts me, as I carry her out of her room and down the stairs to her destruction, with Damon and Cross following closely on my heels. The thought twists something sharp under my ribs, and makes it challenging to take a deep breath. Livy is a dead weight in my arms, utterly limp, breathing slowly, and somehow, all of it feels wrong. It makes me miss the fight in her. Seeing her vulnerable like this is doing things to me that I don't understand.
Her warm body temperature seems to penetrate through my clothes and burn right into my flesh, as if trying to brand me. Her breath escapes her through her plump, parted lips, deep in slumber, and her delicate, intoxicating scent invades my nose until she's all that I can smell. It makes me want to drag my nose through every single part of her, breathing her in, memorizing all of her soft elements, and leaving my mark on her tender flesh. This small woman, this fighter, has bewitched me, evoking a mixture of emotions within me that I shouldn't want any part of.
The reasonable, humane side of me knows that drugging her, and taking her to the woods for one of our sadistic games, iswrong. I should try to save her from what Cross has in store for her, but I know I won't. The truth is, I want to see her frightened, and attempting to run from us. It makes me just as much of a monster as my best friends. The escalation of her fear is an aphrodisiac that I mean to taste by any means necessary.
Cross believes this is a form of control, one that he can use to win against her. Damon, the fucking psycho, thinks this is justice for the way she fought, and has won against him, at every turn, and I… I don’t even know what I believe anymore. I always knew that we were messed up, like fuck, look at our world and who raised us, but this... fuck, this is unhinged even for us. We don't drug girls, we've never needed to. We also have never had one turn us down, and tell us as eloquently as my little Hellstorm to go fuck ourselves.
The lavish hallway is dim, as I walk with my precious cargo in my arms. It's filled with long shadows swaying across the floor, each step leading me closer and closer to something I won't be able to take back. The house is silent and filled with judgment, except for the soft creak of the boards beneath our feet. Her hair brushes my arm when I adjust my tight grip, light, soft, and painfully human. Too human for any of this. Fuck, I should turn back around with her. I should barge out the door and run with her, even though I know, if I do, Cross will beat my ass for defying him.Might be fucking worth it though, if she stays safe,my mind plays devil’s advocate.
"Your thoughts are too loud, bro, fuck your guilty conscience. This bitch deserves this and so much more." Damon slides in front of me and opens up the garage door, the keys to her shitty car swinging on his finger with his excitement. He's like a kid in a candy shop, filled with anticipation for all the sugary sweets he's about to consume, and he won't be denied, not by me or anyone else.
Cross, on the other hand, is silent and deadly, like the grim reaper pulling up the rear. Deep down, I know that he's filled with annoyance and wrath that I got to her first, once she passed out. His need to control every situation often supersedes my own, but not this time. For a moment, as I watched her panic, when she realized something was wrong, and succumbed to the'G'hidden in her water bottle, I felt a hint of remorse and sorrow that it had to be this way. A part of me wishes she hadn't fought so hard against the chains we've been attempting to wrap around her. I'm not saying we wouldn't have gone to these unhinged methods anyway, fuck knows Cross is a psychopath, and doesn't need an excuse to unleash hell on anyone, but maybe things could have been different. It doesn't matter now, though. There's no going back from here. Once my little Hellstorm wakes from her drug-induced nap, she's going to be out for blood, and that has excitement, and my own blood, rushing to my cock, with the anticipation of her fury and violence.
Her breath catches sharply once, shallow, ragged, and loud, and I freeze as I step into the massive garage, heart slamming against my rib cage, and my breath refusing to leave my lungs. I prepare myself to have to restrain her, but she doesn’t wake. She can’t with the dosage we gave her, Cross made sure of that. Her body twitches, and her lips move silently, as I place her carefully in the back seat of her car, and watch as Cross gets behind her wheel, with Damon riding shotgun. It's almost a relief that I get to stay with her alone in the back, a few more moments in this fucked up, sinister bubble where she belongs to only me, before I have to share her with my best friends. I've never once considered wanting someone for my own that I wouldn't share with Cross, Damon, or both, but all of a sudden, that desire is a fuse being lit within me.Get it together. Neither of them will give her up and let you have her.
Cross drives us out toward the woods outside of Soule, while Damon plays with her radio settings, like this was some sort of road trip we were all taking, instead of us having drugged and kidnapped a woman. My eyes dart around the interior of her car, a shudder racing down my spine when I notice the disarray of empty water bottles, plastic bags, and haphazardly thrown clothes, around the floorboards and back seats.Ugh gross.I force my eyes away from the mess so I don’t trigger myself, and I allow my finger to softly trace Livy's velvety lips, even as her mouth grimaces, and her closed eyelids twitch, as if she's having a bad dream.What are you dreaming of, pretty girl? Who or what has made you into this fierce creature that refuses to bow to us?
Before I even realize it, my time with her is up, as I feel her wheels hitting rough dirt instead of asphalt, and tree limbs scrape against the side of her vehicle. I lean forward, pressing my lips against the delicate shell of her ear, while allowing my fingers to stroke her soft, purple, and brown tresses. "I'm sorry it had to be this way, Hellstorm," I whisper, hoping the other two don't hear the pathetic weakness inside of me where she's concerned.
Cross stops the car, and his eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. In their deep, brown depths, I witness a lack of regret or compassion, just a hint of curiosity. He won't stop this. The need to hurt her, to bring her to heel, runs too strongly within him, especially after she was with Sim Melfort. We are out of time, and the only thing I can do for her now is make sure they don't kill her. It's the only mercy I can grant her, and even that's not much of one, ‘cause let's be honest, she'd be better off dead than in any of our hands.
I reach forward and pull her from the vehicle, once Damon opens the door like a savage, wrapping my arms once more around her form, and lifting her like one would a small child.Outside of the car, the night air is cold and biting. I watch with fascination as the exposed skin on Livy's arms breaks out in goosebumps. I have to force my glance away from her. Instead, I take in the trees that loom dark and sinister against the star-filled, opaque, navy night sky, their bare branches tangled like ominous fingers reaching out for us. The path deep into the woods stretches out ahead of us, long, winding, and hungry, its greedy darkness ready and waiting to devour all of us.
We walk deeper and deeper into the shadows, the sound of our breathing and steps muffled by the dense forest floor. The sound of creatures scurrying to hide from us, sensing we're predators entering their domain, is the only other noise to reach my ears. My stomach knots as Livy stirs once again in my arms, this time a pained whimper escaping her. This is wrong, all of it. What the fuck am I going to do?
"Noooo,"whispers from Livy's lips, and I have to strain to hear it. Her limbs tighten as if, even in her sleep, she's desperately trying to flee, and her body is in a panic.
"Cross..." I attempt to get the words past my lips to reason with him, but the minute he turns his dark eyes in my direction, I know there's no further point in pleading my case.
"Save it, River. She’ll run, we’ll chase, and she’ll finally comprehend where she belongs. She'll learn how to bend, bow, and beg Mayhem on her knees, or she'll never leave this forest." Cross’s voice is confident, certain, as it echoes around the morbid trees, and bounces in my skull like something rotten, but I know she won’t cower to us. Livy would never agree to this, and the worst part is that I know she shouldn’t have to. What is provoking all of this is our bruised pride, and a need for an outlet from our fucked up everyday lives.
I keep walking, because stopping means standing up to Cross and Damon, and standing up to them means bloodshed, mine, hers, someone’s. I don't want to break our precariouspeace, and lose all the years of our friendship. They won’t back down; they’re too far gone now with their obsession, rage, and entitlement. They see her as a lesson they’re owed, a correction to the insult she dealt them, and I... fuck, I’m the coward who didn’t say no.
Cross stops in a clearing, with a beam of moonlight glowing across the darkened forest floor. "Put her down here and strip her naked," he demands between clenched teeth, his jaw so tight it looks like it might snap. I pry my lips open, ready to deny his request, to put a stop to any further defilement, but before I can, Damon reaches over and removes her shoes.
"Fuck, I can't wait to taste all that pretty skin." I attempt to push away from Damon's pale fingers, denying his touch, but my resolve caves like my courage, and I lower her to the cool ground. Damon doesn't hesitate for a second, reaching forward, and pulling her pants and underwear off, leaving her bottom half exposed to the frigid air.
