Page 51

Story: Princes of Chaos

Marcus looks me in the eye. “Exactly our thought.” He finally opens the door, sweeping out an arm as if he’s revealing a prize.

I guess in some ways it is.

Bruce Oakfield is shackled to the bed, naked, a ball gag in his mouth. One scan of the room tells me these things were part of a BDSM setup. Meant for the girls, no doubt, but now it’s holding him. He has a black eye and what looks like scabbed over nail scratches down his neck. His eyes widen when he sees us, fear and hope both flickering in them.

A figure moves in the hallway. I reach for my gun, but it’s Killian Payne, the King himself. He pauses in the doorway, hands up. The stern look on his face dares me to finish pulling out my weapon.

Jaw clenched, I release it.

“Thank fuck you’re here,” Killian says, jerking his chin toward Bruce. “One more day and I would’ve put the bullet in his head myself.”

“Why didn’t you?” Lex asks, assessing the scene.

Killian smirks. “Because Auggie gets pissed when we bloody the sheets.” Marcus snorts beside him, but any levity in Killian’s eyes falls away. “But mostly because you have an arrangement with the Dukes, and I know it’s about more than simple body disposal.” He turns his gaze to Bruce, eyes full of violent promises. “We had to burn over the brand you put on her, you know. It was the only way to get rid of your fucking initial.”

I recognize the simmering fury in his eyes too well, and my eyes go to Lex. That feeling of having to hurt someone you don’t want to hurt… it always lingers in the pit of my stomach, like a sickness.

Lex opens his bag and pulls out a small glass bottle, followed by a syringe. “I understand.” The look he shoots me says Lex knows that feeling a bit too well himself. “Hold him,” he tells me.

The Bruce guy struggles. They always do. His face is red and contorted as he bucks and thrashes, but it’s easy enough to plant my knees into his chest and bear all my weight down, making him wince. Lex injects the sedative into his veiny arm, and I watch as he fades, the anger draining out of him against his will. Heavy eyelids. Sluggish limbs.

“These girls he burned…” I tilt my head, assessing Bruce’s ring. It’s big and gaudy, bearing an ‘O’ with a slash through it. Looks more like a zero to me. “They good girls? Loyal and all that?”

When I turn, Killian is standing with his arms crossed, mouth pulled into a pensive frown. He hears what I’m not asking, loud and clear.

Do you want revenge?

“Depends,” he answers, eyes narrowing. “What do you want?”

I climb off Bruce, shrugging. “Access to one of your southmost cam feeds.” Before he can protest, I assure, “It’s not for my dad.”

Killian scoffs. “Why should I believe that?”

“You probably shouldn’t,” I admit. “But it’s the truth.”

There’s a beat of tense silence as Lex packs up the supplies, shooting me a curious look.

Ultimately, Killian dips his chin. “You know all those feeds are just trees and fields?” At my nod, he sighs, deflating. “In the past, we’ve had… incidents here at the Hideaway. Debts that never got paid.”

Ah. The Duchess. Everyone pretty much knows how Bruin came to have her–by breaking into this place and violating her. I have to imagine his whores want their pound of flesh. Giving him a nod, I wager, “Loyal girls won’t stay loyal very long if you let shit like this go.”

Killian glowers at me. “Don’t coax me, Ashby. I know how to handle my girls.” Still, he looks away, thinking about it. “I’ll give you one of the upper trail cams. Take it or leave it.”

I take a moment to make it look like I’m considering. An upper trail cam will be nothing but sky and tree scape. Probably any sign of human life will be so distant on the ground, they’ll be specks.

“Deal,” I say.

Effie’s gonna fucking love it.

Raising his chin, Killian glares at Bruce. “Make it slow.”

I think about the outfit that’s waiting for Rosilocks on her bed. Smirking, I reply, “I always do.”

10

Pace

After tuckingBruce into a safe spot down in the dungeon, I feel a sense of anticipation when I can finally sit down at my computer, flipping on the monitors and watching the screens hum to life. Effie bobs along to the beat of the song playing over the speakers, but when I open the door to her cage, she doesn’t come flying out like usual.

Table of Contents