Page 20

C hapter 20

Grey

It makes perfect sense now—how Emilio Ricci and Arthur could find us so easily the night we tried to escape from the dollhouse, hiding away in that cabin in the midst of a freezing winter. It struck me as odd how they could find us, but I never had the time to contemplate more about it before our lives were turned upside down once again.

It also makes perfect sense how Emilio could have found us now. Not a mere hallucination, as I first thought, but a reality. All those times I thought Naya hallucinated, was he truly there? The notes we found, was that his way of scaring us?

Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl with the need to scowl myself.

“Do you remember if they ever chipped you at Grimhill Manor?” I ask with urgency, eyes flaring with unkempt rage.

For a moment, she appears lost in thought, memories flooding her mind. She inhales sharply, a shudder running through her as dread coils within. “Before I came to Dankworth Institute. I think…I think Frederick chipped a few other children along with me.” She closes her eyes, rubbing them as if to rid herself from the images piling up behind her eyes. “I didn’t know what it was back then.”

It’s hard to focus on anything, the room spinning in a dizzying whirlwind.

“We have to get it out somehow,” I say, looking at her with a grave expression. “It’s risky as fuck. We need medical help.”

“But if we do that, then we risk being recognized and caught,” she murmurs.

Then she takes a deep breath, as if a thought hits her. She stalks out of the bathroom, toward the desk full of unknown papers, and roams the drawers until she finds something. A landline. She works the digits, picking up the phone with ease, as if she has memorized the number by now.

Who is she trying to call?

She looks impatient, and all I can do is stare at her in wonder while waiting for whoever she’s calling.

“Come on, come on,” she murmurs. “Pick up.”

She’s pale with fear and dread, her body trembling from the realization that there’s been a fucking tracking chip inside her all along. My stomach churns with nausea, wanting to spill out all over the floor.

I hear the distinct sound of the phone ringing, but no one picks up the call. She slams it back in place, eyes glazing over with frustration, exhaustion, and fear. It’s a beautiful concoction making her lethal, but I hate seeing her this distressed.

“Of course he doesn’t pick up,” she says.

“Who?”

“Daxton. Of fucking course, he’d leave me all alone after leaving us entirely by ourselves.”

There’s rage and sadness in her voice, making my chest clench, that bit of hatred filling my heart for my brother who dared hurt her like this. I fucking hate him for abandoning us—her—even if I’m glad he did.

“The only other option we have is to cut it out ourselves,” I say, feeling the color drain from my face and a wave of nausea washing over me at the thought of what must be done.

Bile washes up in my mouth as I look at her equally horror-struck expression.

Love itself turns into a bittersweet poison in my heart, intertwining with fragile threads, knowing I can never intentionally hurt someone I love, but also knowing I have to in order to protect her.

“How?”

My hands pull through my hair as I fist it in a tight grip, gritting out the idea. “There should be some equipment in the medical box inside the bathroom.”

Without waiting for her, I stride back to the bathroom, with a dirty toilet to one side, a small shower on the other, and a faucet with a drawer. I turn on the tap, ensuring it’s flowing smoothly with fresh, clean water, before I reach for the emergency kit I saw in the corner.

To my relief, there’s a small sterile scalpel, a small mirror, a few antiseptic wipes and gauzes in the kit. I set it all up in the dimly lit bathroom, the only place that gives some semblance of privacy. Even if nothing of this feels safe.

We have no other choice. It’s this, or we will never be truly freed—always on the run for our lives, even if we did manage to flee the country with the passports I got. That tracking chip complicates everything we’ve worked for.

“Are you sure?” I ask her, meeting her nervous gaze.

Her eyes widen for a second before she nods in determination. It takes several seconds before she replies. “Okay.”

I look up at her. “Okay?” She nods again. “Are you sure?”

She steps closer to me, taking my hand in hers. “Yes. There’s no other option, and I want us to have the freedom we deserve. We can’t achieve that until we’re free from him. From them.”

Her gaze locks onto mine, filled with such fierce determination that it makes my cock harden, straining against my boxers. It feels like I’m falling for her all over again. Fuck me, she’s the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid eyes on. She drives me crazy, just like she always has.

I give her a smile, my heart pumping inside my chest as we make our way into the bathroom. To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I am fucking terrified, and I feel the way she is too, despite trying to be brave.

“Get inside the shower,” I tell her, and she does as I say without hesitation.

She undresses and steps under the water, letting it cascade over her. I quickly grab what I need, cleaning the scalpel with antiseptic to eliminate any potential bacteria and preparing the gauzes. Once I’m ready, I take the scalpel and antiseptic into the shower, where Naya stands, naked in all her glory with a perfect body I wish to feel against mine.

Stalking toward her, I throw off my shirt and remove my pants as I step under the warming water that instantly soothes my nerves and tense muscles. The water generates steam that fogs up the mirror and envelops the glass of the shower, creating a misty atmosphere in the room.

“You’re devastatingly beautiful,” I say, staring at her.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” she whispers.

“It is a bad thing.” I lean closer, letting my mouth fan against her ear as I gently nibble her earlobe. “It’s a really fucking bad thing, little doll. Do you know why?”

She shakes her head, her eyes inviting me in. I find myself drowning in their depths, mesmerized by the mismatched colors as she waits for my next words. I press my lips against her neck on the opposite side to where the chip is, and she shudders against me. Nibbling gently on her skin, I start to suck, drawing another tremor from her. I continue, biting and sucking, leaving a beautiful mark of purple and red that declares she’s mine—only mine. At this point, she’s panting, a desperate little doll yearning for her master’s attention.

“It’s because you’re driving me crazy, making me lose all sense of reality and sanity. You will be my fucking downfall,” I murmur against her neck, my lips trailing to a new spot as I suck gently, drawing more soft whimpers from her.

She grabs my biceps, holding on tight until her nails scrape against my skin.

“And you will be mine,” she whispers.

A feeling of belonging washes over me, knowing that she’s here with me and not somewhere else. She’s mine to hold, mine to love, and mine to cherish for all eternity.

My cock hardens as I stand beside her, hearing her moans along with the sound of water falling down from the showerhead. She feels my cock against her back, pressing into her ass as she grinds against me. A growl escapes me from her movements. We continue like that in a dance, where she grinds against me while I nibble against her neck, giving her small hickeys that won’t easily be hidden.

She’s panting, and I know I have her relaxed right now. I press my cock against her entrance, pushing her back closer to my muscled chest while still arching it. I don’t prepare her for the pain that will soon ensue, but I feel her heart pound at an abnormal rate while she’s waiting for the moment of dread. I kiss her ear while grabbing the scissors, and her body instantly stiffens.

“Shh, darling,” I whisper in her ear.

I clean the area with antiseptic, the cool sting of the liquid making her slightly wince. I grab the tool tightly, taking a breath to steady myself. The mere thought of hurting her makes me nauseous, a heavy feeling stifling inside my stomach. As if noticing my apprehension, she turns her neck to look into my eyes.

“It’s okay. I will be fine, I promise,” she says, trying to be brave despite the horrors lying ahead.

I nod, bringing the scalpel against her skin where I know the tracking device is. The silvery material of it glistens in the shape of the water, and I see my reflection in it, my crazed expression. I have to get it out, or we’ll never get our freedom back. Fuck knows what kind of deeper organization Emilio Ricci has. If we don’t get it out, we risk being exposed to the entire network.

With a deep breath, I steel myself as I press the sharp tip to her flesh. It goes through skin, making a whimper of horror and pain escape Naya as she presses herself closer to me.

With precision, I make a cut right where the device is. Blood flows from the wound, becoming more with the force of water flow. Erotic pants come from her, and it isn’t until long that I press my cock inside of her, feeling her walls clench around me. She moans louder as the blood flows down her neck, to her back and mixes together with the water. I work to remove the chip with the scissors, stifling the trembling in my hands, not wanting to make it worse. Naya’s body stumbles forward, as if dizziness takes over and blurs her vision, but I hold her up, never once letting her go.

As I continue to work, I spot the device underneath her skin.

“See it,” I murmur, before quickly grabbing hold of it with the scissors as tongs.

I try not to think about how disgusting it feels, and put the chip aside before turning Naya around so that she meets my gaze. Her face is pale, yet filled with ecstasy.

I immediately grab a gauze to hinder any infection, cleaning the small wound—barely noticeable with how little I cut—before putting on the gauze.

With my finger, I draw crimson from the wound on her neck, letting it flow down to her chest. I pinch both her nipples, captivated as the liquid washes over her like a beautifully macabre painting. She leans against the wall, her eyes hooded with desire and fatigue. Leaning forward, I lick the blood from her breasts before sucking on her nipples, drawing yet another soft pant from her lips.

She pulls me closer to her body, her gaze filled with such longing it makes me weak. The water mingles with her blood, continuing to trickle down her breasts and stomach. Ensuring she keeps her eyes on me, I gather some of it in my hand, stroking my cock, painting myself in the crimson.

“Be a good girl and take every punishing thrust,” I tell her, and she looks into my eyes with eagerness despite the pain she’s in.

I slam into her body with enough force to make her cry out, her back arching as she lets me fuck her against the cold tile walls. Her forehead meets mine until we share the same breath, making the underlying monster inside me soar. I fuck her hard and fast, our moans echoing inside the bathroom as our surroundings become a mix of wetness from water and blood. It doesn’t take long until her eyes roll back and she’s clenching harder around me, coming within seconds.

At this point, she’s crying from being too overwhelmed. My fingers rub her clit, the blood covering her bundle of nerves. She clenches around me, drawing out my own ecstasy.

“Please, Grey. Please, I can’t—”

I interrupt her with another hard thrust that meets her G-spot. Her breasts rise with her heavy breathings at the same time as her back arches, her head leaning against the wall. Sweat clings to her forehead despite the flowing water, and I feel my own thighs ache from thrusting into her, but that does not deter me at all. I continue to thrust, slam, inside her until tears gather in her eyes and she’s too overwhelmed to utter any coherent sentence.

“Such a good little doll. You’re taking me so well,” I praise her, continuing until she’s coming undone, like a mirror shattering into thousands of pieces.

With one final thrust, I come inside her, filling her up until her entire body is trembling from the force of it. She falls against my chest, and I’m there to catch her immediately.

The water washes over us, and I take my time to wash our bodies, being careful around the wound on her neck. Her mismatched eyes lock onto mine, brimming with a whirlwind of emotions that makes it difficult to decipher what each one truly means. She smiles, and my fucking god, it melts my insides until the flames she creates are enough to burn the beast within me—to make him go quiet for more than just a few minutes.

We air-dry ourselves, putting on our clothes as we make our way out of the bathroom, ready to prepare for our next step toward freedom. With one last look at the bathroom, I grab the tiny chip in my hand and crunch it underneath my hold, severing all connections to that unknown network.

But then, a deep voice settles into the space around us, making me halt in my tracks as I stare up at the man above the opening into the basement, his slight Italian accent peeking out.

“I see you’ve gotten quite familiar with each other. And took the liberties to destroy the chip.”