Page 16

Chapter 15

Juliet

Brandon hands us white nightgowns, and Autumn and I take them with shaky fingers. My stomach churns with nausea, legs weak and trembling.

He’s going to make us sleep here. After everything those men did to us between these walls, he expects us to somehow close our eyes and turn our brains off for the rest of the night.

The tears on Autumn’s face have dried, her hair a mess, and I can barely stomach looking at her. But the only other options are looking at Brandon or the floor, and I refuse to let him see how much he’s broken me.

I slip out of the white dress I wore for him, now covered in disgusting fluids, and toss it as hard as I can at his face. He catches it with ease and I slip on the nightgown while Autumn does the same. She’s a robot beside me, each movement stilted and awkward without a hint of emotion on her face.

The thin fabric reeks of mothballs, but at least it’s clean. At least our torment is over.

I’m going to kill him for this. For all of it.

Brandon takes us both by the elbows, and I jerk away from him. “Don’t touch me!”

Before, his touch was a strange, confusing mixture of nauseating and comforting. His touch made me special. Now, it’s nothing but repulsive.

A crease forms between his brows, mouth curving down. An expression I’ve never seen on his face before.

One that scares me.

Brandon’s grip on my elbow is sturdy as steel this time, unshakable as I try to jerk out of his hold. Autumn lets him guide her without protest. She’s done fighting.

Wordlessly, he leads us out of the room and down an empty hallway, our echoing footsteps the only sound until he drops Autumn’s elbow to turn the knob on another door.

Run , I mouth to her. For these few seconds, she’s free. At least one of us will escape.

But she only stares at me with empty eyes, and she doesn’t budge.

She’s too late.

Brandon opens the door to reveal another man waiting inside, preparing a lineup of tools beside a workbench. The buttons on his shirt are open halfway down, revealing the plane of his chest. Before he even speaks or turns to face us, I know he’s different from the other men. His slacks and shiny shoes would be a costume on them, but they’re a second skin on him.

When he finally turns to face us, he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and gives us a close-lipped smile that, in any other situation, I might mistake for warm.

But the tools beside his workbench are sharp, glinting under the singular fluorescent lightbulb above his head.

“Welcome.” That one word is enough. Enough to make my mind scream at me to get the hell out of here.

I try to wrench out of Brandon’s grasp, but he shoves me and Autumn into the room, keeping the door shut from the other side as I scream and try to pry it open.

“Fuck you!” The shout tears through my throat.

When we’re dead, I’ll find him in hell and kill him all over again. Make it long and insufferable.

Someone pulls on my arm, and I jerk away like a feral cat, but it’s not the man in the room with us.

It’s Autumn.

Her eyes are round with fear as the man pulls her toward him with a twisted smile.

My heart lurches as I grab for her hand. “Don’t touch her!”

But I’m too late. He tugs her toward him harder, her cry like a kitten caught in a predator’s jaws, its mother too far away to save it.

When he’s got her fully encased in his arms, the man gives me a sour smile that turns my stomach leaden. “Pay attention. You’ll do everything she does.”

I can’t watch what he does to her. I drop to my knees and cover my ears, but I can’t drown out the sounds of her gags, her heaves, her cries.

But none of it compares to her screams.

They rattle my eardrums, worse than something from a horror movie, and all I can do is rock and hum and cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut, the tears still flowing out because there’s nothing I can do. I can’t help her. I can’t stop him.

My eyes are still glued shut when I realize Autumn’s screams have stopped. When I feel the warm liquid seeping around my knees.

I dare to open my eyes.

A crimson pool flows around my knees. Stains my white nightgown.

Blood. Autumn’s blood.

And she’s not screaming anymore. She’s not Autumn anymore.

My heart pounds harder than it ever has in my life as I slowly straighten, trying not to make even the smallest sound.

At his workbench, the man is busy with Autumn’s body, arms and hands moving methodically, but I focus my gaze on the door. I don’t want to see it. Don’t want to witness what he’s done to her.

When Brandon brought us to this room, he knew we wouldn’t be leaving it alive. He left us here to die. To be murdered.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

The only other escape is a tiny window. But in the time I’d waste pushing it open and crawling out, he’d catch me.

That only leaves the door. Where the other men wait somewhere on the other side.

Autumn . Fresh tears blur my vision, but I blink them away. I’ll cry for her later. I’ll break into a thousand pieces knowing what happened to her, but right now, she’d want me to escape. She’d want me to run.

Before the man can spot me, I lurch for the door and yank it open.

A shout and a pair of footsteps thunder after me. They’re hunting me. They won’t let me leave this place of horrors alive.

But I’m a runner. I’m fast. The fastest on the team.

That’s what Coach liked about me. That’s what he told me, anyway. But what he really liked was that I was a vulnerable girl with absent parents and no one looking out for her. No one to stop him.

Another set of footsteps joins the man’s behind me, both of them shouting at me to stop.

But I reach the front doors, yanking one open and bursting out, surrounded by darkness and no one to help me.

I race for the woodline while the men shout into the night. Autumn’s blood trickles down my legs, my heart drums in my ears, and my bare feet scream as I sprint over rocks and dirt and branches, disappearing into the woods.

If they find me, I’m dead.

“Did you manage to get into Trey’s phone?”

For a second, I’m sure I must’ve misheard Sienna over the din of the hockey fans shouting to each other and the players from the stands after the game. But then I remember the lie I fed her. Right, Trey’s phone. Not Ned’s phone. “Not yet.”

“Ask Finn when they leave the locker room.” She nods to the Devils leaving the ice, eager to strip off their gear and hit the weight room for a postgame workout.

I spot Finn’s jersey amongst the players. Right winger. I’m slowly learning the positions as Sienna repeats them to me every game. Most of my knowledge about hockey I’ve acquired against my will.

At this point, I don’t have a choice but to ask Finn for help. I’m obviously not getting into Ned’s phone on my own, and who knows how long Brandon will stay wherever he is. Who knows how long it will take him to grow suspicious of his friend’s silence and take off. “Yeah, I’ll ask him.”

As most of the crowd makes its way out of the exits, a brunette remains seated, chin lifted, purse on her lap, and eyes trained on the Devils. On one Devil, in particular.

The back of Trey’s hair is damp, sticking to his neck with sweat. He smirks when he spots me watching him and gestures to his own chest before mouthing, Nice jersey .

Why the hell is the brunette watching him like that?

He disappears into the locker room with the rest of the Devils and the brunette stands, descending the bleachers and heading for the exit. Her burgundy wool trench coat and shoulder-length, layered haircut tell me she’s not a student or a puck bunny. Something about her face is artificially youthful. Botox, probably. But by the slight lines around her mouth and eyes, she must be at least in her forties. Her nose turns up at the end, brown eyes soft, lipstick a matte pink, the rest of her makeup elegant but minimal, freckles across her cheeks that make the dark shade of her hair seem unnatural, and a mole near the corner of her eye that somehow makes her more regal.

I nudge Sienna and nod to the woman. “Do you recognize her?”

Sienna tilts her head, lips pursing. “Hmm. I think I might’ve seen her around before? She looks vaguely familiar, maybe? Definitely not a student, though. Maybe one of the moms.”

I jump to my feet, rush down the steps, and march over to her before she can slip out of the building. She can’t be Trey’s mom back from the dead, so who the hell is she?

“Juliet—” Sienna calls.

Her shout catches the woman’s attention. She glances back and moves faster when she spots me. Oh, hell no.

“Wait!” But she’s out the door before I can catch up, and by the time I burst out of the exit, she’s disappeared into the crowd leaving the dark campus.

By the time I give up searching and head back inside, most of the Devils have emerged from the locker room. Trey, Damien, and Knox are swarmed by puck bunnies while Luke and Sienna are wrapped up in each other. Finn manages to extract himself from the group. Sometimes, he seems to like the attention; other times, it’s the last thing he wants.

I race to him and grab his arm, and he grimaces. “I need a favor.”

His brows furrow and he stares down at me wordlessly. Jesus, it’s going to take a special girl to deal with his silence.

I thrust Ned’s phone toward him. “Can you get this phone unlocked for me?”

He shrugs and takes it at the same time Knox appears behind him with his usual goofy grin, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Whose phone are you trying to break into?”

“Trey’s.” I return my attention to Finn. “So are you going to do it or what?”

Finn is my last hope. I need to get into Ned’s phone and find texts or emails or something between him and Brandon. This is my only tether left to finding him.

Wordlessly, Finn shoves the phone into his pocket.

I glance at Knox for a translation, and he smiles. “That’s his way of saying he’ll do it.”

The Devils are absolutely trashed after partying to celebrate their victory. Nearly all of them are stumbling home, even typically graceful Finn. Knox has fallen twice, and Damien has hip-checked a car’s side mirror and a lamppost, which he then proceeded to scold for five minutes. Sienna leans almost all of her weight against Luke, who isn’t exactly stable himself.

I’m not used to being the only sober one in the group. One of two.

Beside me, Trey is steady on his feet. We held onto the same plastic cups all night, eyeing each other as we both refused to drink. I wasn’t in the mood to get drugged, and apparently, neither was he.

Sienna’s drunken smile falls away as she narrows her eyes at Trey, his hand wrapped protectively around my waist. Uh oh. I love my best friend—she’s the sweet puppy to my feral black cat. But when she’s drunk, the teeth come out. “Do you even know what her favorite color is?”

Trey lifts an amused brow before gesturing to my typical monochrome outfit. “Gonna have to go with black.”

“We all could’ve guessed that,” Knox crows.

Sienna rolls her eyes. “That was an easy one. What’s her favorite number?”

“Got to be thirteen.” Luke fakes a shiver running down his spine. I flip him off.

“You know, I don’t think we’ve gotten around to discussing that very important information,” I tell her.

Without hesitation, Trey says, “Seven.”

I nudge him with my elbow. “How did you know that?”

My favorite number is completely unimportant information and yet Trey knowing the answer somehow feels important.

“What was the name of her childhood dog?” Sienna challenges.

“Is this an interrogation?” I blurt.

“Max,” Knox guesses.

Damien runs into another lamppost, but it barely fazes him. “Bella.”

“She’d definitely name her dog something cute like Teddy,” Luke says. “Ironically.”

“All of you shut up,” Sienna calls. “This is Trey’s test.”

He snorts. “Her parents didn’t let her have a dog.” Wow. He’s a better stalker than I realized. “She’s lived in Wakefield all her life, she was the fastest runner on her cross-country team, she’s majoring in psychology, her middle name is Anne, her birthday is February twenty-seventh, and she wants to be a school counselor when she grows up. How did I do?”

“Great, actually.” Sienna brightens, satisfied as she flashes a smile my way. Trey is officially bestie-approved.

My skin tingles. Even if Trey learned all of this information by stalking me, no man has ever cared enough to know this much about me before. Even Brandon barely knew specifics about me when he was manipulating me into believing he cared about me. Marcus definitely never gave a shit. All any man has ever cared about is what’s beneath my clothes, not what’s in my head or my heart.

I poke his ribcage. “And your major is economics, your favorite color is red, your middle name is Aries, and your birthday is July third.”

He grins down at me, squeezing my hip. “You’re almost as good at stalking as I am.”

“Better,” I whisper.

Sienna can’t stop smiling, a knowing glint in her eyes.

When we reach the Devils’ house, Luke fumbles with his key until I snatch it from his hand with a huff and unlock the door myself. The Devils manage to squeeze their giant, stumbling bodies over the threshold.

“Everyone drink water,” I bark.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Luke tells Sienna as he ambles into the living room and flops face-first onto the couch. “I can’t make it to my room. Too far.”

“That’s okay.” She flops onto the couch next to him, flinging her arm across his back and curling close. “Me neither.”

Trey smacks my ass with a hard sting before growling in my ear, “Get in my bed.”

I whirl and smack his ass as hard as I can, biting back the wince as the sting travels through my palm. I should’ve known a hockey player would have rock-hard glutes. “ You get in your bed.”

A wolfish grin spreads and I don’t have time to object before he’s scooping me up and tossing me over his shoulder, heading for the hallway. I rain punches down on his back that he barely seems to register. “Put me down!”

“Is this consensual?” Sienna shouts. Even nearly passed out, she’s keeping an eye out for me.

“Yes!” Trey shouts.

“It’s consensual,” I admit. Whatever the hell Trey Lamont plans on doing to me in his room, I plan on letting him.

In his room, Trey doesn’t bother flicking on the light. I gasp when he drops me onto his bed, reminding me of the night we met at the haunt. Briefly, he leaves me there to search for something.

When he returns, his neon-red mask covers his face.

I grin.

“On your knees.” His command is low and distorted by the mask.

Outside the bedroom, he can get fucked if he thinks I’ll obey his orders. But behind closed doors, when it’s just us, I’ll happily drop to my knees whenever he commands it. The carpet scratches my skin through my fishnets. “I’ve missed your mask.”

His hand cradles my jaw. “Open up, little demon.”

I do as he instructs. He unzips his fly and pulls out his hard cock, pushing it past my lips like he’s been waiting all night to do this. I don’t have a chance to tease his tip with my tongue or ease my mouth down his length slowly. He thrusts in, his shaft dragging along my tongue until the pierced tip hits the back of my throat.

My eyes sting as he pumps his hips over and over, holding my head in place with a firm grip on the back of my skull.

“This mouth is mine,” he growls.

When his thrusts become more staccato, I dig my nails into his thighs, bracing for his hot cum to hit my throat. Instead, he jerks out of me, his throbbing, glistening cock standing erect as he pulls me to my feet. He spreads my legs and drags a finger over the space between my thighs.

I retreat from his touch. “I’m on my period.”

“And?” His brows furrow in a mix of frustration and confusion. “That’s extra lube.”

Without another word, he carries me into the bathroom before setting me down and turning on the shower. “Take your clothes off.”

Period sex isn’t particularly kinky, yet I’ve never done it. Marcus’s face scrunched up in disgust whenever I informed him it was that time of the month, while Brandon lost interest every time he discovered the pad in my underwear. A natural cycle of my body that they somehow managed to shame without a single word.

Trey isn’t like any man I’ve ever met before. He’s deranged and unhinged and violent and dangerous. He’s damaged and empathetic and loyal and protective. He accepts me just as I am.

You love him! I can practically hear Sienna squealing the words.

But even as the truth of those words sinks in, I can’t bring myself to open my mouth and say them out loud. How the hell do you say words like that to someone like Trey Lamont? Who knows if people like us are even capable of love. This feeling between us is something else entirely. Something far more twisted and dark and insane.

Once I’ve removed my clothes, Trey yanks me toward him, his finger coiling around the string between my legs. His hard stare never leaves mine as he slowly eases the tampon out. “This comes out,” he breathes, popping it free. “And I go in.”

In a blink, he discards the tampon and pulls me into the shower with him. Steaming water rains down on us, soothing the knots in my shoulders and back. He’s so mouthwatering like this, water soaking his hair, rivulets racing over my name carved into his chest and down his pecs.

His throat bobs as I trace a finger over every letter of my name, and he does the same to the Little demon tattoo on my arm. The scars we left on each other. How he marked me as his, and I marked him as mine.

Water races over the hard muscles at his shoulders, biceps, and abdomen. His long, intimidating erection still rock-hard and ready for me. My finger travels down from his chest to trace the lines of his abs until he sinks to his knees in front of me.

I shove at his shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“Tasting you,” he drawls like I’m stupid.

“You know that being on your period means blood comes out of there, right?”

He gives me a sideways grin before sliding a finger inside me. “The man you want isn’t afraid of a little blood.”

I gasp as his tongue strikes my clit, and he slides a second finger inside me, pulling the digits back to reveal a streak of blood. There’s no logical reason this should be so fucking hot. Yeah, I definitely have a blood play kink.

He moans when I start to stretch around him, his fingers sliding in and out of me with ease. The pleasure mounts and my pussy starts to clench until he pops his fingers out and swipes them back, back?—

I squeeze my ass, knowing exactly where this is headed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I told you I’d be taking you here.” His other hand smacks my ass in emphasis, the crack loud and echoing in the shower.

“No, you didn’t.” I’m honestly shocked he hasn’t tried it already.

“Then I’m telling you now.” He spins me, flattening me against the wet wall of the shower with a hand on my back while the other swipes more blood up to my ass, swirling it around the hole before he tentatively dips a finger in.

I hiss at the stretch, trying to escape the invasive finger, but he keeps me locked in place.

“Relax.” He swirls a finger around my clit, the pleasure mounting again and distracting me from the uncomfortable stretch. “That’s my girl. I’m going to fuck your tight little ass and you’re going to scream for me.”

Panic thrums through me. If I can barely take his finger, how am I going to take his cock?

Except with every swirl of his finger over my clit, the pleasure builds and my clenched walls relax around him. He drags more blood from between my legs, from my thighs, and pumps his finger easily into my virgin hole.

Then a sharp sting on my ass cheek makes me yelp.

He’s biting my ass. The same bite mark he tattooed on my skin forever.

“Bastard.”

He chuckles as he rises and bends over me, every naked, wet inch of him pressing against my back as he rubs at my clit and the head of his cock eases into my ass with a burning sting. “Scream as loud as you want, little demon.”

“Just do it,” I grit out, the mix of pleasure and pain bringing tears to my eyes. I brace my hands flat against the wall as he eases his cock inside me inch by inch. “Oh, fuck .”

He dips his fingers inside my pussy for more blood to coat the rest of his shaft. He was right—extra lube.

I cry out as he pushes in further, but the pleasure from the pressure on my clit keeps me from shoving him off.

When he rocks back and thrusts in, a scream rips from my throat.

“I fucking love that sound.”

I’m going to be so sore there tomorrow. Yet my pussy clenches, eager for more.

He growls in my ear as the slap of wet skin colliding fills our ears over the steady drum of the shower. “You take me so well, my bad fucking girl.”

“You’re worse than a devil. You’re evil incarnate.”

“That’s what you love about me.”

He says the word like it’s no big deal, but I stiffen.

“Yeah, pretty girl.” His breath hits my ear, goosebumps rising on my arms despite the hot water and steam. “I know how you really feel about me. I know how much you want me, how you spend every second thinking about me, how you can’t get enough of me.”

I gulp. For the first time since we met, he’s left me speechless. I can’t deny it, but I can’t confirm it either. I can’t say anything at all.

Even with his cock continuing to thrust inside me, his voice softens. “It’s exactly how I feel about you.”

Tears blur my vision, and I’m not sure if it’s from the overwhelming pleasure or joy or fear. Fear of what loving Trey Lamont could mean. Of the power it gives him over me. Of the pain he could cause. Fear that, at some point, this incredible, twisted thing between us is going to end. That I might wake up tomorrow and he won’t be here to chase me in a mask and fuck me into the dirt. Won’t be by my side telling me how brave and strong I am. That I won’t be able to find him in a crowd and know that he can read my mind with a single glance. Fear that, someday, our little game will end.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it.” His fingers drift over my shoulder, thumb massaging the space beneath my neck. For once, soothing instead of lustful or punishing. “I know.”

He’s always known. He’s been able to read my mind since we met. Anticipate my every move, predict exactly what I would do or say, understand the parts of me that I don’t always understand myself. The darkness that matches my own. The one I’ve been searching for.

His mouth latches onto my neck, making my knees weak as his fingers continue their merciless assault on my clit and his other hand pinches my nipple.

I cry out, thighs trembling and hands squeaking down the wall, too weak to keep myself upright.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore, when I fear his cock is going to tear me in half, pleasure like I’ve never felt before rockets through me, every muscle in my body clenching as my pussy pulses and my clit throbs beneath his touch. My eyes roll, the wall in front of me going black.

“ Fuck , Juliet.” He slams into me over and over until he finds his own release. He collapses against me, the feeling of his cock throbbing in my ass foreign and strangely satisfying as he spills every drop. “ Christ . That’s my girl.”

We’re both panting, glued to each other as we come down from our orgasms. He eases out of me slowly—not wanting to hurt me for once—and I gasp at the unfamiliar empty feeling.

He spins me, grinning as he pins my back against the wall. I wince, my ass already sore. But I can’t wait to do it again. He strokes a tender finger down my cheek. “You did amazing.”

“I know,” I tell him, breathless.

“Next time, I’m fucking your ass while you ride my knife handle.”

When I open my mouth to object, he shuts me up with a kiss. One that steals my breath away and sends my heart soaring up to my throat. His lips explore mine, tasting, biting, tugging, before he slides his tongue against mine, savoring me.

Trey smacks my ass, making me wince until a noise makes both of us pause.

A rattling sound. Like someone trying to turn a doorknob.