Page 22

C hapter 22

Grey

There stands the man of our nightmares. The man who had drawn us together—the very reason Naya and I met.

He instills a terror no words can describe, a fear so palpable it roots itself deep within me, clinging like relentless vines that I cannot tear away. Memories of what he’s done to me push far into my mind, bypassing the barriers I’ve built to protect my sanity.

Emilio Ricci, the man who took me to Dankworth Institute, promising the authorities that I’d be in “good hands.” Good hands, my ass. He corrupted me, twisted my mind until this disease inside me burrowed deeper than it physically could. Abandonment, instability, impulsiveness, and emptiness—he amplified them all, day by day. His so-called therapy sessions were not meant to heal; they were designed to unleash the monster within me, to corrupt my mind beyond recognition. The past shapes us, and when you’re trapped with no escape, it sinks its claws until it’s all you can see.

That was when my little doll came in to save me.

Seeing Emilio standing before me now, after all the time without him, those feelings of rage and insanity overwhelm me, turning my vision into a cloud of red.

“Oh, how disappointed I am in both of you,” he tsks, a sardonic smile plastered on his cracked lips.

How I’d love to rip that smile off his face, to see him bleed, and make sure he never has the chance to speak again.

He’s clad in the same uniform he always wore at Dankworth Institute, his hair slicked back and eyes hard as stone. The fury within him is tangible, shaking the room with its force. Little does he know, the rage within the confines of my bones is even stronger, and the monster he created in my soul is seeking blood.

It craves it like a vampire needs to feed.

All I can think of is that I need to shield my little doll from Emilio’s view, so I take a step in front of her. But I know it’s futile—there is nothing that can protect us from the devil standing by the threshold. We’re stuck with no way out.

My hand slowly reaches for the gun in my back pocket, but I know I can’t fire it yet until I’ve assessed the situation outside. This is it. I have to kill him now that I’ve finally got a deadly weapon.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible, but there’s a strain in my voice that barely hides the anger and dread.

“I couldn’t very well let my two favorite patients wander off all by themselves, could I?”

Naya takes a shuddering breath. “Leave us.”

Emilio lets out a cackling sound, dark and twisted as it slithers inside me like a serpent. “I see the months free from the clutches of my institute have made you a rather vicious little thing,” he muses, tilting his head.

In my periphery, Naya’s shoulders tighten, her body reacting as if she’s an insect under a magnifying glass. The dread I feel for her carves a void in my organs, and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to fill it again. For there, before us, stands the man that captured us both. He who set the whole plan in motion the moment he decided to work with the Grimhill brothers.

“This can only end one way,” Emilio says, his voice a low threat.

I had forgotten how much I hated to look into his eyes—those dark depths that seem to have no ending, only a dark eternity stretching forever.

My fists clench so hard my knuckles turn white. “I can only think of one ending,” I muse. “Let us get up and this will be a fair fight.”

We need to get out of this suffocating basement; only then will we be able to take him out. I’ve beaten him before—until the guards had to pry me off and throw me into the padded room—so I know it’s possible to end his life. I couldn’t kill him at Dankworth Institute with the guards and cameras in every hall, but out in the middle of nowhere, no one will know it was us. By the time they’ve figured it out, we will be far from this goddamn country with brand new identities.

Emilio raises an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his face for just a split second before it vanishes into thin air. He steps aside, much to my surprise, freeing the way for us to leave the basement.

“I wouldn’t call it a fair fight, considering you are two against one.”

“Grey…” Naya whispers in warning beside me. I know unease flickers in her gut, much like it does mine. “This feels too easy,” she continues, but I decide to ignore her words.

“Fair enough. You’re an old man, after all, one who can’t stand on his own.”

Is it stupid to poke the bear? Yes, but I can’t care less. My veins pulsate with the need for violence. A smirk tugs at my lips as I lend Naya a hand, helping her out of the basement with Emilio watching us like a hawk a few steps away.

I know I should think rationally, but I’m too far gone within my own head to do so. The moment I step onto solid ground, leaving the musty basement behind to rot, the cold wind tugs at my hair, and the trees whistle as debris flies around the wreckage of the house. I glance around, searching for any sign of other people, but it’s just us and the ruins.

Naya is like a ragged doll beside me, unmoving and torn, but there’s a firing determination in her gray and brown eyes that wasn’t there before.

Emilio sneers at her. “You used to be so obedient—a perfect doll for Arthur’s collection. But you just had to ruin it, hadn’t you?”’

I watch the moment anger rolls through her, her teeth gritting so hard I hear it. “It was lovely burning the legacy down, along with the master of the house.”

Emilio’s eyes darken. “So you admit you burned down the dollhouse?”

“You know it,” she says, staring at him, waiting for that strike I know should come.

Taking a step forward, Emilio maneuvers over ruined planks, his polished shoes dirtied with mud. “You see, you just admitted to burning down the house, which is enough evidence for me and my men to take you back to the institute in the rights of the law.”

His voice is a cold shiver washing over me, freezing me in place. We can’t go back; we can’t be trapped once again. Not when we’ve finally tasted freedom.

“I won’t let it happen, little doll,” I whisper to her.

Emilio laughs mockingly, apparently hearing my words. “Pathetic. Your lives are in my hands, and soon, you will be cuffed inside a van and dragged back to Dankworth Institute.”

“Why are you so desperate to bring us back, Emilio? Are you afraid of what we might reveal about the institute? About the experiments you conducted?”

Naya’s eyes flicker toward me, and I instantly get the hint. She’s buying time, distracting him while I find a way to get closer to his body. I’ve never shot a fucking gun before, so I know my aim will be shit from afar. I need to get close. Without causing too much commotion, I step aside, letting Naya rail him up while it’s time to do what I’ve finally wanted for years. To kill the monster. Disgust fills every cell in my body as I think of all that he has done; all those souls he has tortured and condemned.

Memories of the corpse in the lake back at Dankworth Institute pile up in my mind. It was all because of Emilio—that patient didn’t make it through the evaluation to be taken to the dollhouse.

We were once Arthur’s prized possessions, which now makes us Emilio’s. But I will never let it get that far. Never will I ever fall back to that state of being captured.

“What do you know about the experiments?” Suspicion tinges his voice as he glares at Naya, too deep in his own thoughts to notice me silently approaching.

My heart pounds harder every second I have to be in his presence and face the man I fucking hate. From the way he previously said his men would drag us back, I know we don’t have much time. I can’t make him suffer as much as he’s made me, so we will have to kill him quickly.

Naya swallows, yet holds her head up high, not allowing Emilio to see her doubts. “I know that you and Frederick worked together on capturing subjects. Frederick experimented on children for his own twisted curiosity, and gathered the best so-called dolls to be sent to your facility for evaluation.”

His nostrils flare, attention fully on her, and she keeps meeting his eyes with determination that makes my cock harden. My brave, beautiful little doll. She challenges him with his eyes, all to make him look at her and not at me, who’s finally gotten close enough in the wreckage to be able to hit the target. He’s so caught off guard by what Naya revealed that he doesn’t notice me stepping up behind him, gripping the gun tightly, raising it high.

My finger hovers over the trigger, but my hands are shaking uncontrollably, anxiety crashing over me like never before. I can’t fucking fail Naya—not now. The thought of letting her down only makes the trembling worse.

“So, you finally figured it out,” he says in a low voice, like a growl.

His words barely register before I swing the gun’s head with all the strength I have. It collides with his skull with a sickening thud, digging into his flesh. Emilio turns around, staring at me with a shocked expression and true fear—all his plans have crumbled around him—before he falls to the ground. Unconsciousness claims him, and a wave of relief makes my shoulders sag.

“We cannot leave him here. He will find us. I don’t doubt he will find us anywhere we try to run,” I say, my breath ragged.

Naya’s eyes are on Emilio’s limp form, understanding glinting there, before she finally says, “Let’s do it together. Let’s kill him.”

“Are you sure?” My eyes widen, flashing with surprise yet something heated, remembering the time we killed that woman back at the dollhouse.

“I won’t let you bear this burden alone. My soul is already stained. What could another stain do?”

Awe washes over me, seeing how she calms the monster inside me, sensing my overwhelming anxiety and choosing to share the weight.

I nod grimly, feeling the weight of the life we’re going to take once again. We’re both killers, outcasts in society’s eyes, but that’s what happens when the system fails you.

I grab the gun, my hands trembling as Naya wraps hers around mine, steadying the hold together. Her scent envelops me like a safe embrace, making my heart slow down its rapid pace. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, and our gaze collides like stars in the sky, forging a bridge between us as we confront our demons together. And then, we pull the trigger.

The gun roars to life with a deafening thud that leaves a temporary ringing in my ears. The recoil slams into us, the jarring impact catching me off guard, but Naya’s scent anchors me, helping me stay calm.

Emilio jerks violently as the bullet finds its mark in his chest, his body convulsing as blood spills, dark and vicious, soaking his pristine suit. His already unconscious frame pales, life slowly draining.

For seconds, we merely stand there, side by side, the gravity of what we’ve done crashing over us. Yet, despite it all, there’s a certain understanding between us—our inner demons are dancing in the shadows of his death.

“You will never fucking hurt us again,” Naya swears, spitting on Emilio’s dying form.

“I wish I could take you now. In the blood of our enemy, just as I fucked you in the blood back then,” I whisper to her, hinting at the first time we killed someone together.

She visibly shudders at my words, clenching her thighs as she looks at me with a heated expression. But there’s no time to react, not when the sound of approaching footsteps breaks through the windy surroundings, drawing closer with each passing second.

At first, we stare at each other, then at the debris-strewn wreckage around us, making it difficult to see what’s lurking beyond. My eyes widen as I wait for whatever is out there to reveal itself.

“Police!” a voice shouts, making my heart stop.

“Fuck.” I look around frantically, as if that would reveal whoever is there. “Fuck!” I curse again.

“What should we do?”

Oh fuck, we’re going to be caught. We’ll lose our freedom once again, now to the law of the country. The only thought crossing my mind is that Naya needs to get out of here; she needs to hide.

“You have to run,” I tell her, eyes grave serious and tone leaving no room for argument.

“What? What do you mean ‘run’?”

“Listen to me, little doll. You have to run away as far as you can.”

Panic slithers inside me at the thought of her being caught. I can’t let her go through that again; this time locked up forever. She deserves the taste of freedom much more than I do, and the police already know we’re here all thanks to Emilio. At least, I can distract them while she runs.

“Come with me,” she begs, but I can’t do what she wants.

“I will hold them off.”

“The fuck you will. Come now, and we might have a chance at escaping.”

I look at her, mismatched eyes glinting in the dimming light from the outside world. Taking a step closer, I lean in to give her a sweet, short kiss, before grabbing her hand.

“I can’t. They will follow us. I need you to run, Naya. Not both of us should be caught.”

I quickly grab something from my inner pocket in my panic, eyes flickering to our surroundings and making sure the officers can’t see us just yet.

“Here, take these.” I hurry to give her the passports—keeping the gun as they’re sure to have heard the shot go off—watching as she stuffs them inside her jacket, reluctantly.

Pain crumbles her face, sending a spear straight through my heart. Her eyes glaze over, but she refuses to cry. “Come with me,” she begs, her voice breaking, and I can’t fucking handle it.

“I will hold them up. You run as far away from here as possible, and then you find a way to free me if you can. But I cannot have you locked up again.”

“What about you?” She cries out, angry that I’m even suggesting this.

“I will be fine, baby. Now run.”

She shakes her head, refusing to leave me. I try to pry her grip from my hand apart, but she only holds on tighter. Finally, I use my other hand to loosen her hold, and she reluctantly lets go. Then, as if everything is happening in slow motion, I take a step back, away from the wreckage of Grimhill Manor and out into the open where I’ll be visible.

My eyes tell her stories I need her to hear—that I’ll be fine. My eyes plead with her to run, but she stands frozen.

“Grey,” she whispers as footsteps come even closer.

I peek over, seeing three officers emerging from the woods—all men Emilio must have called in. It was obvious he’d been working with the authorities to find us. My heart squeezes painfully.

Two of the men aim their drawn guns at me, while the third steps closer, authority lacing his words. As the officer lays eyes on Emilio’s corpse, his expressions harden, eyes narrowing. All I can think is how relieved I am that Naya is hidden as the third officer grabs a pair of cuffs, securing them around my wrist until I’m wincing in pain.

Memories flood me, surging up to the surface until it’s hard to breathe.

Cuffed after my parents’ death. Heart breaking into a thousand pieces.

“Grey Madden, you are under arrest for arson and the murder of Emilio Ricci,” the officer declares. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court.”