There’s nothing, at least at first. But beyond the two couches and the bar, light seeps out from the propped-open door. It leads to what I suspect is a massive room positioned right underneath that swimming pool upstairs.
Staying at the front, I creep closer, using the furniture for cover. Tommy is right on my heel, his face stiff and concentrated and his hands formed into fists. For a moment, I regret letting him tag along, but then again, it’s better to have him here with me, because if anything was to go south, at least I will be able to protect him. If I’d left him in the room and got caught snooping around, it would be but trivial for Isidoro to grab him and use him for leverage.
The door where the strange humming song is coming from is just a few feet away. With a hand signal, I instruct Tommy to move out and take the left side. Meanwhile, I shuffle over and get in position on the door’s rightside. Nodding at each other that we are ready, we both take a look.
I’ve never seen anything like this before.
Gold and crimson red intertwine into a twist of regal colors. Cushions are scattered around the white marble floor, and mirrors cover half the walls. The other half is adorned with grotesque paintings, depicting all sorts of bodily harm—decapitation, torn limbs, cut flesh. In the far end of the room, elevated on a platform and surrounded by tools of torture, sits an altar like the one that used to grace the church I served. It glitters under the soft light of a chandelier with real candles, and atop it, a naked man is jerking and tossing and trying to get free from his unforgiving chains.
“Oh my god! How did this guy get here? Should we help him?” Tommy gasps, frowning at the unexpected scene.
I stop him before he rushes to the altar. “Wait. There’s something… off.” I squint, scanning the man’s arms. They are heavily tattooed with all kinds of unfinished pieces, but among them is one I can never mistake—a heart and snake. “He’s Crimson Crew…”
“Huh?” Tommy narrows his eyes, his body tensing. “What? No way! Are you sure?”
“Left arm, just above the elbow.”
A sharp inhale. “Oh, shit! You are right. What the fuck is he doing here? Did hefollowus?”
Those are all great questions. But my hunch tells me that the answer isn’t that simple, because if it was, why didn’t Isidoro just tell us?
15
Tommy
TheCrewdudechainedto the altar squirms and struggles, growing more agitated by the minute. He doesn’t notice us, too preoccupied with his very unfortunate circumstances to pay much attention to his surroundings.
Did Isidoro capture him? He must have. Why? To question him about the Crew? I glance at the ominous iron maiden, at the terrifying guillotine just off the platform. To torture himandsend a message to the Crew?Don’t mess with my friends, or this awaits you?
Would he do that for Niko? Aw, that would be so nice of him! But then, why didn’t he say anything…
Just as I am about to ask Niko where his thoughts have taken him, the crimson curtains behind the altar stir. The guy strapped to it growls or groans or screams, but it’s hard to say which one because he’s gagged.
Four figures in black robes emerge from what must be a backroom or another corridor, all of their faces obscured. One of them holds an ornate dagger. I stare at it, then stare some more, because,hell, I recognize it. It’s an exact copy of the one the men used to kill Zac at the party on that fateful night. Shivers rush down my spine, the scene so hauntingly similar to the one I witnessed in that damned basement.
“Niko,” I whisper, trembling as the figures approach the restrained man. But I can’t even push the words out, to let him know what I’m seeing.
Niko’s eyes dart to my face, softening a notch from their single-minded focus. He glances at the scene inside the crimson-gold room, then rushes over to my side of the door, gathering me in his arms.
“It’s okay, Tommy. I’m here. You’ll be fine.”
I bury my face in his chest, inhaling his soothing scent. It reminds me of pine trees and mountains. “What are they doing? Why does Isidoro have the exact same dagger? Why does this feel so similar to what I went through at the party?”
It’s what started all of this. A scene like this led to the gem and the gem to this life on the run. Is it a coincidence that I ended up here? Or…
Words I can’t understand leave the robed figures, their lilting voices like silk dragging across my skin. It’s almost arousing in a strange way, like a spell is being cast on me or like they are trying to hypnotize me.
“Do you feel this?” I say, my breathing choppy and my voice dipping lower. I dig my fingers into Niko’s arms, needing his solidity to stay anchored to reality.
“Ye—Yeah,” he groans softly, tipping my head back to look into my eyes.
His are dark, so, so irresistibly dark. Ready to devour me.
“They are doing something,” I grit out, fighting the need to give myself over to the budding desire as I feel Niko’s cock press against me through layers of clothing.
“Yeah… Just… Just don’t give into it, Tommy. You are stronger, you can resist it.”
Can I? Especially when Niko looks so deliciously on the verge of losing it himself? And more importantly, do I even want to?
