A breath hisses from between my lips. Finneas’s logic never fails to amaze me—and not in a good way. It doesn’t escape my notice that Hayze has gone stiff, but I sure as fuck hope no one else has noticed. As I exchange a glance with Cross, the only indication that he has an opinion about what’s coming is that his jaw twitches ever so faintly. Arrow’s hands have a death grip on his thighs. And this girl who has found herselfin increasingly dire circumstances—I can guess internally she’s throwing a fit—she’s my spitfire, after all.
My father lets loose a low growl as he scrubs his hand over his hair. “Well, then… let’s get on with this.” The words eject from his mouth at a furious clip.
Nolan shoots to his feet. “Wait.”
All eyes in the room dart to him, then almost immediately to Finneas to check for his response. This is like watching a fucking three-ring circus.
Finneas stares blandly at him, shrugging. “Corrections wait for no one,” he murmurs low and lethal, “but go right ahead, Nolan, have your say. Give the girl another few moments to let the particulars of what’s about to happen really sink in.”
Nolan wets his lips before leering at Delilah. “If I’m not mistaken, Cross is the only one who hasn’t dipped his wick inside her cunt. I think it’d only be fair to allow him to take part in this correction.”
Leaning forward, I glance to the side, noticing how Hayze’s jaw is rigid and his fists are clenched where they rest on his thighs. Beside me, Cross is unflinchingly calm. He simply readjusts in his seat, then stands, waiting for further instruction. “I’d be happy to, if that’s what’s needed of me.”
Finneas’s brows raise, and he checks in with his heir with a jut of his chin. “Hayze?”
If I were near enough to jab him in the ribs without anyone noticing, I’d have done it. The possessiveness he feels toward Delilah is edging into the light. He needs to shut that shit down.Now.After severalbeats too long, he finally clears his throat. “I’m fine with that. He’ll make sure she regrets what she’s done.”
Finneas seems to chew on his son’s response for several long seconds before acquiescing. In the end, he gestures to Cross with a flourish like he’s the king of this castle and we’re his subjects, only here to do his bidding. “Very well, then. For assisting with her last night and for aiding us with the medical situations, you’ve earned it.”
As Cross forces his feet to carry him to the front of the room, I eye the way tension weighs heavily across his shoulders. One step. Two. Three. Then a fourth. Finally in front of the fireplace, he solemnly nods to Finneas.
Eyes narrowed on him, the leader of this absurdity growls each of his commands slowly, drawing it out like this is some motherfucking performance. “Follow. Honor. Nourish. Kneel.” Cross lowers himself to the ground and bows his head. With a nod, Finneas’s lips curve. “Good. What’s mine is yours.”
Cross rises to his feet. “And what’s yours is mine.” Turning to face Twenty-Three, his expression is blank, void of emotion. I don’t know if anyone else notices the mask he’s dragged over his features to hide his true thoughts, but I sure do. And he’s not letting a single one of us in. He’s purposely shutting out everyone in the room, his eyes pinned to Delilah, whose chest jerks with every awkward breath she manages to suck in.
His tongue slicks over his lower lip as he ducks hishead to get her attention. Hand going to his belt, he works it open, letting the end with the buckle hang as he unfastens his pants. Her eyes narrow, jaw working like she’d like to bite his head off for going along with this so readily—or maybe hisdick.
Fuck me.I breathe through tightly clenched teeth. It’s not obvious what Cross is thinking. If there’s one thing I’m certain of, though, it’s that his astute mind is working furiously behind those oddly colored hazel eyes. I’ve known him long enough to recognize the signs of a plan brewing.But what could he possibly be about to do?
Like a hawk, Cross watches every one of Delilah’s ragged inhalations. Every shudder. Every movement that tells me she’s not handling this nearly as well as she’d like us to think. “Come closer,” he murmurs thickly, pointing to the hardwood floor in front of him. “Crawl to me.”
I refrain from allowing my expression to falter, but a jolt of awareness zaps down my spine at his firmly stated demand, and I shift in my seat to hide my interest. Her lips part, and a flicker of surprise dances over her features. Swallowing hard, I continue to observe as Delilah leans forward, placing her hands on the floor.
Her bare ass is clearly visible through the sheer material of her gown, and after a careful study, I can also make out the shadow where her pussy is. I exhale unsteadily, the desire to remember what her body had felt like under my control warring with the understanding that wanting to bring forth those memories isboth wrong and absolutely fucking disgusting. Yet I can’t help myself.Fucking asshole. Fucking depraved deviant.
And just as I’m chastising myself, my eyes catch on the inside of her slim thighs… where evidence of Finneas’s earlier correction slides down her legs.Oh, fuck.I was hoping he was just boasting. But no. He really did fuck her. My fists clench, fingernails leaving crescent moons in the flesh of my palms.Dammit.I exhale harshly, though there’s not a fucking thing we could have done to stop it. It makes me ache to think she was trapped down there, literally caged, and he decided to exact his revenge on her. I’m surprised he didn’t want an audience. I don’t know if that made it easier or worse for her. My stomach forces bile straight up to the back of my throat.
I swallow it down. Let it burn. There’s no other choice. Eyes trained on her, I watch as one knee and one hand plant at a time until she’s closed the distance between them, honoring his request. Living in this society that is ruled by grotesque behavior has messed with my goddamn moral code.The sudden impulse to take a whip to my own back shudders through me as I watch Delilah sit on her heels to await further instructions.
“Twenty-Three”—her head tips back, attention snapping to Finneas—“do you accept your correction for all the havoc you wreaked last night?”
Her spine goes ramrod straight at his question. Does he really expect her to disagree when she alreadyknows he won’t accept anything less? Every person in this room is aware he’d only come down harder on her—I think even she realizes the horrible reality of her situation. There’s no way out. No amount of begging or sweet talk. Fuck, no words at all will work with Finneas. There’s not a cheat code to save her from what’s coming and definitely no prayer that will ever be answered in this godforsaken place.
As she stares at him, her lips are pinched so tightly shut that they leach of blood and her chin wobbles. After an audible exhale, the only answer she gives is a nod of acceptance.
“Get on with it, Cross,” Finneas growls, his expression leaving no question about his expectations.
My dick gives a violent twitch behind my zipper as I watch Cross dip a tattooed hand inside his waistband, taking his cock out. A staring contest ensues between him and Delilah, but this is no fucking game. Shit’s about to get real. Cross is semihard already, his erection stiffening by the second the longer her eyes are on him. With a glance around the room, I note that most everyone’s focus is on Delilah. But me? I hardly know where to direct my attention. Her? Him?
My worry for how she’ll handle what’s about to happen is increasing by the moment. I can’t believe they’re going to correct her. Again. And again. This fuckery is not what I was anticipating first thing this morning, but maybe I should have seen it coming. It’s not the way of the Collective to sit on an issue. They are more likely to act first and ask for details laterwhen they’ve taken offense to something. And the hell of it is, no one in this room would argue with anything Finneas said he wanted to do, anyway. Do I think this correction is merited? No. Definitely not. Especially considering he already took his pound of flesh from her down in the cell. But to disagree with him would only invite trouble that I can’t afford. Not yet.
When Cross finally looks this way, he scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, and my attention flicks downward. Heat washes over me because I can tell he’s aware of what I’m focused on.His dick.That girthy cock of his twitches and, in response, a tiny grunt expels from his throat. My lungs are about to explode from the pressure of holding my breath. A moment later, it’s as if shutters come down behind his eyes, and his expression goes impassive. No one notices our exchange, and silence hangs heavily in the room as the seconds tick slowly past. I scrub a hand over my face, uncertain how much more of this I can handle.
Cross’s jaw grinds before he juts his chin toward Delilah. “Take my cock in your mouth, Twenty-Three.” The words scrape and drag from his throat as he eyes her, a challenge that he has no choice but to issue glinting there.Dear fucking god.If we were in a different situation, that would have been so fucking hot. But leave it to the unscrupulous men here to gather around to watch this disaster like it’s a form of entertainment. I don’t know how I can be disturbed yet also crave every second of what’s about to happen.My eyes crash shut, shame worming its way through every cell of my being.
When I resume my observation of the fuckery ensuing before me, it’s to find that the pair have locked on each other. Delilah’s chest jerks as she haltingly reaches out with one hand to grasp the front of his thigh. Twisting her head to the side the tiniest fraction, she closes her eyes, almost as if she can pretend this isn’t happening. My gaze wanders over her. She may appear docile at the moment, but to me, the anger she radiates is a vibration that shakes the room.
“Open your eyes.” Cross slowly tugs on his cock, grip firm as he shuttles his hand from root to tip, right in front of her face. Because he really has no other choice.
