Page 54 of Die for You (Diamond Devils #4)

Aurora

In the basement, the air is hazy. Or maybe it’s my vision.

My dreams are blending into waking hallucinations of the Devils coming to save me. Then Juliet and Sienna. Then my parents. My hunger pangs have vanished, but the lack of water is making me delirious.

I claw at the zip tie binding my wrists, tears burning and fingernails bleeding. The throbbing agony in my finger has barely subsided.

I’m just the bait. What Monica really wants is Knox. And she’s using me to get to him.

She hasn’t returned since she broke my ankle.

Monica is going to leave me here to die. Once I’m out of the way, she’ll have him all to herself.

But what she’ll learn is that he still doesn’t want her. After that, I don’t know what she’ll do to him.

If she can do this to me, I don’t want to imagine what she could do to someone who breaks her heart.

Footsteps overhead. My heart stupidly leaps with hope, even though I know the odds of it being anyone other than Monica are slim.

I’ve heard her come and go each day, ignoring me like I’m not even down here.

Leaving me to wallow in my own filth, to wriggle out of my skirt with my hands tied behind my back just for something soft to lay my head on when the room started to spin, to talk to my parents in my mind like they’re still here so I don’t go insane in isolation.

But I guess I’m already there if I’m talking to ghosts.

Fresh tears spring up, pooling beneath my eyes. If my parents could see how my life turned out after they died, they’d be horrified. My life went to hell after I lost them.

Then I met the Devils. The first time that life didn’t seem all bad anymore. The first time I had hope again.

Damien. Knox. Finn.

I chant their names over and over in my head like I can will them to me. To find me here. To rescue me before Monica lets me die and rot in this basement.

Damien. Knox. Finn.

Damien, with his dark eyes and intimidating height and massive muscles that could crack a skull like a walnut. His infuriating smirk, his sharp commands, his deliciously rough hands. Finally. We found you.

Knox, with his bright green eyes and infectious smile and endless jokes.

His ability to make me smile and laugh in any situation.

His charm, his playful grin, his teasing winks.

The way he talks me through everything, whether it’s to comfort me or prepare me for everything he has in store for me.

We’ve seen you around before. On campus.

Couldn’t take our eyes off you. We’ve been looking for you.

Finn, with his piercing blue eyes and stoic expressions and huge, delicious hands that can inflict pain as much as pleasure.

That communicates his words better than his own lips.

His silence rarely broken by an ocean-deep voice that makes my toes curl.

The way he looks at me and understands, knows exactly what I’m thinking before I say a word.

I’m right here. I love ... your everything.

I’ll never see any of them again. The reality of it crushes me, chest caving in.

Monica’s footsteps approach until they come to a stop in front of the basement door. I hold my breath.

Then finally, finally , she opens the door.

The light from upstairs is nearly blinding. Fluorescent lighting. Is it dark outside? What time of day is it? I don’t even know what day it is.

Wooden steps groan under her weight, and the fluorescent light glints on something in her hand. Silver.

A blade.

A knife. She has a fucking knife .

Even though no one can hear, even though nothing will stop her from doing whatever she plans to do to me, I shout around the gag in my mouth and try to scramble away.

She sighs and rolls her eyes when she notices my reaction. “What did I tell you? I’m not a killer.”

Monica crouches in front of me, my legs too weak to push me onto my feet. With her free hand, she pulls the gag from my mouth.

I gasp and cough, but my gaze never leaves that knife in her grip.

My jaw aches from being wrenched open for so long.

I can’t tell if the tears are from relief or endless pain.

Every awful name I could spew at her runs through my mind, but I bite every single one back. That won’t get me what I want. Need.

“Have you changed your mind yet?” Monica’s gaze rakes over me with disgust. My pallid skin, my disheveled hair, my exposed legs. “I really don’t want to get rid of a body.”

My mind spins, the world with it. But I manage a nod. “No one is worth this.”

Monica smiles at me almost sweetly. But it’s tinged with a sinister edge. Just like everything she does. “I didn’t think so.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Juilliard. I never expected my relationship with any of them would last anyway.” It’s not entirely untrue. Up until recently, I didn’t think the Devils would want to bother continuing our relationship when I left the state.

“So you’re done with him.” The words are a command from Monica’s mouth, not a question. “You’ll go to New York, and you won’t ever talk to him again.”

I shake my head. “I won’t. I’m done with him. All of them.”

Monica raises her knife. I cringe back, but she doesn’t plunge it into my stomach or draw it across my throat. She grabs the zip tie binding my wrists, and my heart leaps with hope.

The tip of her knife flirts with the unyielding plastic. I wait with bated breath as each heart-pounding second ticks by.

But then she removes the knife and drops my bound hands. “Too bad I don’t believe you.”

My stomach churns violently as Monica stands, knife dangling down at her side, as she saunters back toward the stairs. Leaving me here. Leaving me here to succumb to dehydration.

“Monica!”

But she doesn’t look back.

She won’t kill me. But she will let me die.

Out of the way so she can worm her way back into Knox’s life. Hurt him again.

I yank and twist at the restraint holding my wrists together. The restraint I’ve been working at during every waking hour until my wrists were rubbed too raw to keep going.

I don’t have long. Seconds until she’s back on that staircase. Climbing it and closing the door to lock me in again.

With one final, hard tug comes a soft snap. The broken zip tie at my side.

My wrists cry out in relief as I cradle them in my lap. I don’t know if they’ll ever stop hurting, my skin engraved with red marks and fingers bloody with my escape attempts.

As silently as I can, I hobble across the room, trying to ignore the searing pain lancing through my ankle with every step.

I trace my hand over the neck of my violin and squeeze my eyes shut. I mouth my apologies to my parents. The most memorable gift they ever gave me. One that has brought me peace, comfort, hope in my darkest moments.

I know they’ll forgive me. I know they’ll understand.

With a deep breath, I pick up the violin and take a lurching step toward Monica.

And swing the violin at her head.

The instrument strikes with a sickening thud, and Monica yelps. She falls to the floor, the knife skittering away from her hand.

I race up the basement stairs, crying out as my ankle screams. The fluorescent lights guide me like my own angels. The steps clatter beneath my weight, heart hammering harder than it ever has in my life, blood pumping so hard I can’t hear Monica racing after me.

When I try to swing the door shut, her palm smacks against it, right behind me.

I haul ass away from her, no idea where the fuck to go or how to get out of this fucking house.

My legs are weak, limbs still shaky, broken ankle causing lightning strikes of agony to shoot up my spine, and the dizziness throws me off balance.

My heart slams against my ribcage like it’s about to give out any second.

A searing pain in my scalp. My hair being yanked from my head as Monica grabs me and pulls me back.

Back to the basement.

I scream.