Page 70 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)
`Devin
T he padded room spins around me, like a cyclone of muted colours and stifled sounds, as the world beyond these walls becomes an echo of the madness inside my head.
My reflection blurs in the metallic sheen of the mask’s surface, a horrific visage that stares back at me with hollow, rimmed eyes. It’s a wicked twist of fate, a mask designed to confine my teeth and quiet my very soul, but oh, how the irony ignites my spirit.
Because it doesn’t quieten me. It doesn’t dull me.
Instead, it sets the beast in me free.
I embrace the chaos, licking at the fringes of insanity like a moth to flame.
With a frantic growl, I writhe against the straitjacket that confines my movements. The canvas is stiff and unforgiving, and just like always, it tightens its grip as I attempt to free myself. It feels like a cage constructed not of wood or steel, but of my own decaying sanity.
The dim lighting dances across the walls of this prison cell, taunting me with the absence of any escape.
My body and mind are at war, playing a sick game where I crave liberation while simultaneously dreaming of a blissful surrender.
In my desperation, I summon every ounce of strength I can muster, and I thrust my right shoulder forward, feeling the sharp, delicious pain blossom as the joint dislocates with a sickeningly loud pop.
Nausea seeps through my veins. Adrenaline surges with it.
I tear at the fabric, forcing my damaged limb to work, and like a bird released from its cage, I find my hands have some semblance of freedom.
I claw at the mask, my teeth gnashing wildly against the leather restraints. I grasp at the edges, while the coarse material burns against my skin, but with one final desperate pull, I fling thing off.
Air rushes into my lungs like a long-lost lover, invigorating, electrifying. Pure fucking bliss.
My fingers tremble in the wake of my liberation, the raw sensation flooding my senses like heroin. But this moment of triumph is fleeting.
The sound of the door opening slices through my euphoria.
The doctor steps in, his white coat stark against the muddled grey of my surroundings. I see him approaching, but all I can think of is the primal urge surging within me, the untamed beast that threatens to spill forth.
But why should I stop it? Why should I hold back? They treat me like a beast, they act like I’m a monster.
Well, if it’s a monster they want, then that’s what I shall give them.
I roar, a feral sound that echoes off the walls and sends a smatter of goosebumps along my forearms.
The thrill of violence surges through me as I charge full pelt.
The doctor’s calm demeanour crumbles into shock as I leap. My senses sharpen, the air infuses with a metallic tang.
It paints the walls. It illuminates them.
I taste salt and iron, the sharp tang of blood bursting forth beneath my frantic assault.
A sense of ecstasy cascades over me as the warmth spreads, flowing like a dark river down my chin, feeding the insatiable beast within.
More. I need more.
More blood. More violence. More…
I shudder, blinking, burying the memory of what I was, what I am.
The sound of my heartbeat echoes in my ears, a rhythm that matches the pulsing urgency of my thoughts.
I can feel it, the beast, wanting to get out, needing to.
He calls to me, he screams in my head, he whispers so seductively and a part of me knows if I give in, I will become everything my brother believes me to be. And yet, would that be such a bad thing? Would it?
My hands flex, my heart thrums in my chest as I see the vehicles coming up over the brow of the hill.
It’s always moments of silence that bring this out in me. Always moments when it’s quiet and still that I get a chance to think.
The dust kicks up behind the vehicles, the heat beats down and the ground around me is so baked it feels as hard as concrete.
It hasn’t rained in weeks. But I can see the storm clouds on the horizon, I can feel it in the air.
Something is coming. And if that isn’t prophetic, then I don’t know what is.
Beside me, Malik shifts his weight. His eyes bore into the trucks as if he thinks this is some sort of trap.
When they come to a stop, he doesn’t move, he stands still as a statue, glaring.
“Devin.” Noah grounds out as he practically jumps from the first vehicle.
His face is etched with scars, his body looks aged far beyond his years.
I incline my head before he clasps my hand and brings me in for an embrace.
“It’s good to see you, brother. Damn good.” He mutters.
Elijah follows him, practically pushing him out of the way to embrace me.
“Jesus,” He mutters as he breaks apart. “You look more fucked than we all are.”
My lips pull into a tight grin. The years have not been kind, not to any of us, but we’re here, we’ve survived, haven’t we?
When they spot Malik and they both still, staring at him like he’s an apparition. A reminder of all our pasts that might be better off forgotten. As if we could.
Elijah moves to embrace him, but I hold up my hand to stop him. “He doesn’t like being touched.” I state.
They exchange looks, glances that say it all.
As the rest of the guards clamber out of the trucks and gather around, I can sense the uneasiness.
I guess it’s to be expected. All of us have paid the price these last five years.
These bastards here were the last of us to get free.
The Brethren were smart enough to separate us.
Do I feel guilty about not finding them sooner?
Guilt is for the weak. Guilt is for lesser people.
What’s done is done. And now, we will get our revenge.
“Come on,” I mutter, jerking my head for them to follow. “Cooper and Mace have sorted out a nice little welcome for you all.”
Elijah’s eyes light up. Noah practically jumps with the prospect.
As I walk into the compound the sound of screams reaches my ears. Apparently, they got the party started early then.
“What the…?” Noah says, staring at the carnage, at the mess, at the naked women who are half trying to escape, half already giving in and submitting like the whores we know they are.
“They were being trafficked by some small-time prick.” I mutter. “I decided we had more use for them than they did.”
Cooper spots our new friends and jumps to his feet. He’s naked, his cock is standing up to attention and in his tight-fisted hand, he has a tearful redhead with a bloodied nose.
“Fuck me.” He growls, before looking at me. “You did it. You got them out.”
I shrug. “Said I would, didn’t I?”
He grins more. “Yeah, you did, but you’re a crazy bastard, hard to tell what’s real and what’s just in your head.”
I throw my head back and laugh. Like I don’t have the same problem these days.
“Get your fill.” I say to the men behind me. They don’t need telling twice.
The few girls that haven’t been claimed scream when they see them coming towards them. I let out a sigh, swiping a beer and watch it play out. I have no interest in fucking now. I have no need for it.
My only focus is on finding that blonde bitch, finding Paitlyn, and making her pay.