Page 5

C hapter 5

Naya

”Grey?” I ask on a heavy breath that escapes my lungs the moment I draw back the curtains inside the motel room.

My heart has a violent beat, and it’s been a few hours since Daxton drove off. I cannot help but worry now that he’s not here. Like a lingering sense of paranoia, my mind refuses to settle unless I know he’s safe, but there’s no way for me to even know that. Merely driving his car is perilous, with how the license plate is on the news channels for the suspected arson.

”Yeah, little doll? Something wrong?”

I stare up at the moon outside, casting its silver glow over the surroundings and transforming it into a world I wish I could enter.

Yet, I’m too fucking terrified. So pathetic for not daring to venture outside. It feels safe in this motel room, though I know I can’t stay cooped up in here forever.

As if noticing my prolonged silence, I sense the sheets shifting from the bed a few seconds before I feel Grey coming up to me. I look at him, and a frown creases his brows, noticing my exhausted expression—how the dark circles cling to my eyes as if they belong there, the light in my eyes slightly dimmed.

His ruffled hair gives him an appealing appearance, tempting me to run my hands through it. He’s shirtless, his abs on full display—every inch of his toned muscles pulling me in, offering a fleeting escape from the harshness of reality. With every bit of the muscles I want to drown in, I find myself captured by just to forget the horrible reality.

”What’s wrong?” he asks, nuzzling his head into my neck.

”Can we go outside? I don’t want to go alone,” I murmur, ashamed to admit my vulnerability.

I feel hopeless, but most of all, I feel like a failure. I’m letting Emilio Ricci and Arthur win over me with the way they hold my life in their hands still, making me fear things that other people would not.

“Of course.”

I can tell he wants to press me for an answer, but he lets it go. I grab my cap to pull it low over my face before grabbing a hoodie from the backpack Daxton gave us. Grey grabs my hand, firm yet reassuring, as we step out of the small motel room Daxton rented under fake names. The fresh air of early summer wafts through me, and I savor the fleeting sense of safety it brings.

Grey’s eyes are a heavy weight on me, and I know he wants to say something, but I cannot bring myself to talk. Instead, I close my eyes, letting the chill graze my cheeks and tousle my hair.

At least we’re alive. That counts for something, right? We have each other, which is more than I can say for all the others back at the dollhouse who didn’t deserve the fate we forced upon them.

”I hate this silence,” Grey pleads, voice soft yet with an undertone of coldness.

“Please. I can’t right now,” I murmur, letting go of his hand.

All emotions come washing over me, the strongest being the feeling of wanting to die at the dollhouse, and the relief of finally finding the reprieve of death.

I should have died that day. Instead, I’m here.

As I step away from Grey, I hear his sharp intake of breath before lowering myself onto the gravel ground. The jagged stones dig into my bare legs, a familiar discomfort I almost welcome, like an old, uninvited friend.

I shift my focus away from him—the beautifully broken soul that saved me when I needed him the most, the only solid thing in a world that is falling apart—but I need to breathe without feeling as if I’m the one falling apart.

Because I am.

I’m teetering on the edge of a deadly cliff of which there’s no return. Once you’ve plunged to the depths of hell, there is no resurrection.

In a moment of haste, a shadow catches my attention, causing my heart rate to rise like a thunderous clap, only making it harder to breathe. Like a snake, the shadow moves behind the tree, covered by the thick trunks, and it wouldn’t have been visible had it not been for the glowing moonlight.

The breath whooshes out of me, sweat beading on my forehead, and I clench my fists until my nails press crescents into my palms.

“Grey?” I whisper, but it’s as if he’s in another world, inhaling the poison from the cigarette.

Emerging from the shadows is a silhouette of a tall man hiding among the trees, taking a step closer.

It’s probably just another guest at the motel.

Even as I think that, I know it’s not true.

For the briefest of seconds, as the pale light spills across the path where he stands, I see a face with brutally cold eyes and a nose with a distinctive hook I will never forget.

Salt-and-pepper hair amplifies the chills spreading down my spine, and when my gaze falls on the tailored suit, I instantly know who it is. The light dims as clouds swallow it, and my voice vanishes.

Standing up too quickly, the surroundings swirl around me as my head takes a moment to steady itself. Then a wave of unease washes over me, tightening my throat.

I saw him. I saw Emilio Ricci. Again.

“Grey,” I manage once again, and he meets my eyes with a puzzled expression. “He’s here.” My voice is barely a whisper in the suddenly too-cold atmosphere.

He is here. He has come for us. He knows we killed Arthur Grimhill, and he’s here to get revenge.

Grey takes a step toward me, strong arms capturing hold of me. “Who is?” The puzzled expression transforms into one of dread, sensing the distress on my own.

“Emilio,” I breathe out, eyes wide as I desperately attempt to breathe through my nose.

I never told him of the figure I thought I saw earlier in the night.

His sapphire eyes scan our surroundings, the soft luminescence catching his irises and accentuating the gravity of the moment. The night is eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of branches in the wind.

“Stay here,” he orders sternly, before foolishly striding toward the edge of the forest where my gaze kept darting. I try to protest, fear gripping me and tightening like a vise until there is no life left.

His eyes are soft as he turns to me. “There’s no one there, little doll.”

“I swear I saw him.”

“We’re both tired. There’s no chance Emilio can be here. We escaped, remember?”

When he utters those words out loud, my head spins, thoughts whirling. Did I hallucinate again?

My face pales in comparison to his, and he takes a step closer to me, reaching out his hand. He hesitates mid-way, as if unsure if he should touch me or not, and I grab his hand, initiating the touch so he won’t feel hesitant.

”I’m going crazy,” I murmur, squeezing my eyes shut with the truth that I’ve known all along.

”Then I will be here. All the way through the end. Until we can get out of this hell.”

As we arrive inside the motel room, Grey makes sure to properly lock the door by putting a chair underneath the handle. He turns to me with a smirk.

”How about a shower? I promise I won’t peek…much.”

The corners of my lips threaten to tug up into a smile of my own, but I’m not in the headspace. ”Not right now,” I murmur.

As if sensing my train of thought, he nods, eyes gleaming with understanding. I just need to be alone, to sort through my thoughts and the lingering panic of emotions that presses heavily on my chest.

When he enters the bathroom, I make my way over to the window, settling down on the larger frame. With my knees pressed to my chin, I dare pull back the curtain, holding my breath as I stare out at the motel around and the forest on the other side. It’s eerily still, with the moon still casting its silvery glow, but there’s no sign of a moving shadow.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply. I’m going fucking mad.

A loud thud reverberates through the walls, causing a yelp to escape my throat, and I fling my head to the side, almost expecting to see Emilio Ricci there, or worse—the Grimhill brothers.

Grey emerges from the bathroom, steam billowing around him like ethereal clouds, giving him an almost mythical presence. He casts me a concerned glance, his towel tied low around his waist, exposing his sculpted V-line.

As I admire the contours of his muscles, the sheer strength and beauty that he is, it’s as if all my dark thoughts dissipate, leaving only a peaceful semblance in their hold. His mere presence silences the demons in my head, slaughtering them as if they have no right to be in my mind.

My mouth waters at the sight of him shirtless, looking so composed, yet at the same time not, with water cascading down his body. When he sees me staring, a smirk erupts on his lips.

“Don’t be arrogant,” I say, standing up as the shirt I wore underneath the hoodie falls over my hips and reaches high up on my thighs.

He stalks toward me, hand lifting my chin so I stare into his eyes, straining my neck while doing so since he’s so much taller than me. He looks ravenous like this, water dripping enticingly from him, making his appearance mouth-watering. At first, he leans closer to press his lips against mine, feeling out if it’s okay to kiss me or if I will recoil. When I kiss him back, that gentle kiss transforms into something brutal, making sparks fly around within me until I feel like I can get high on the emotion of it.

“We’ve survived so much, Naya, and we can’t let them ruin our lives anymore,” he says, his voice full of vulnerability. “You’re the strongest woman I know, and if there’s someone who can make it through this, it’s you.”

His hands grip my hips possessively before he continues talking, meeting my eyes, and emotions clog my throat. “Now, let me take care of you like the goddess you are.”

This man before me is a fatal car crash that drives me to the point of madness, yet he’s the only thing that feels real in this world. He understands me in ways no one ever has; he protects me like no other.

Pushing me toward the king-sized bed in the middle of the room, he continues kissing me while gripping the back of my head.

The kiss is feral, nothing reminiscent of sweetness, only filled with a toxic need for each other, as if we are each other’s antidotes.

He squeezes my ass with one hand, breaking the kiss for just a moment. My lips are back on his the second after, yearning for his attention. Taking control like this is new to me, and as our lips meet, I thrust my tongue into his mouth. He bites down, sending a stinging shrill through me. A groan escapes him as he guides me to the edge of the bed. Swiftly, he pulls the oversized shirt over my head, leaving me bare and exposed for his eyes to behold, while the cool breeze from the air conditioner caresses my skin.

Without warning, he presses me down, my body sinking into the plush mattress. I lie on my back, crawling upward until my head rests against the pillows as I stare at him with desire clouding my eyes. I’ve never felt so consumed, so utterly intoxicated by his presence.

With deliberate, teasing movements, he unties the towel wrapped around his waist, revealing that defined V shape leading down to his hard cock, bobbing against his navel. I lick my lips, and without waiting for any instruction, sit up and position myself to crawl toward him. He gives me an arrogant smirk before gathering my hair into his hand, forming a makeshift ponytail. Cocking an eyebrow, he watches as I nod, silently confirming my willingness to do this the hard way. Satisfied with my response, he pushes my head closer to his throbbing cock, and I greedily open my mouth, taking him in.

I swirl my tongue around his length, spreading saliva over it as I start sucking. He tastes salty, and so like him, it makes me crave more. It makes me crave the pain; the only thing that keeps the nightmares away, even when my eyes are open and I’m wide awake.

“Fuck yes, darling,” he growls, pushing my head closer to his torso until his cock brushes against the wall of my throat, causing me to gag. “You take me so well, don’t you?”

I nod, continuing to swirl my tongue around his cock as best as I can as he thrusts against my throat while keeping a steady grip on my hair.

“But you can handle more, can’t you? Filthy little doll, craving my cock so badly,” he purrs, his eyes gleaming with delight and sin.

He continues to thrust into my throat until I gag over again, drool running down my mouth as it lands on my breasts. My eyes are teary-eyed, but I’m loving every single second of it.

Grey lets out a moan while his thrusts become more sloppy and irregular, letting me know he’s close.

“You’re going to swallow my cum, understood? If you so much as spill a drop, you’ll be punished.”

My thighs clench together as I sit there on my knees on the edge of the bed, sucking his cock as he stands in front of me while keeping his veiny hand in my hair. I can feel how wet I am, my clit throbbing with need. I’m sure I’m dripping at this point, but I give all my focus to Grey.

His moans grow louder until he thrusts so deep that I gag once more, and then he spills inside of me. His cum fills my mouth, the salty taste of it finding my tastebuds, and I do as he says. I swallow it all down, sticking out my tongue to prove to him that I followed his orders.

He gives me an approving smile filled with contentment as he lets go of the grip on my hair, scratching my scalp in a surprising touch that has me closing my eyes from the sheer pleasure of it. Then he kisses my lips once more before turning me around, gently pushing me back against the bed with my stomach down toward the mattress.

“Face down, ass up,” he commands me in a gruff voice laced with heated lust.

I position myself to his liking.

“Beautiful.”

It takes multiple seconds before his hand collides with my ass, the stinging sensation enough to make me moan and wiggle. He spanks me again, gaining a louder moan.

When he stays still for a while, I look over my shoulder. He pushes me down, growling in my ear, which has shivers crawling down my spine in anticipation.

“I said, face down, little doll. I thought you were good at obeying commands.”

I can practically hear the smug smirk in his voice as he talks to me, and I whine, wishing for him to continue. When I hold my head down for a long time, I finally feel his fingers slide from my ass down toward my inner thighs before teasing my folds. He brushes his finger over my clit, and I grind my hand against it, needing more friction.

“Ah ah, little one,” he says before the stinging sensation fills me again as he spanks my ass twice.

I moan, biting my lip as I try to keep myself from grinding against him. In tortuous movements, he starts rubbing my clit with expert fingers before sinking them inside of me, feeling exactly how wet I am. The time when I sucked his cock has made me extremely needy and wet, and I am dripping as he fingers me hard and fast. Grey is turning me into a whimpering mess as I keep moaning, the wet sounds filling the space as he whispers dirty promises in my ear.

“Such a good little whore, aren’t you?”

All I can do is moan as I near the edge, and then he takes me toward the feeling of ecstasy as I come all over his fingers. A clean liquid comes out of me, wetting down the bed, and the realization of it has my cheeks flushing a tomato-red color.

Grey chuckles as he looks at me, smiling. “Don’t be embarrassed, darling. Have you never squirted before?”

I shake my head, hiding my face in my hands. Grey grabs them, stopping me from doing so. He gives me a reassuring smile that soon turns into a smug smirk over the fact that he made me squirt. I swat at his shoulder playfully, still ashamed.

The moment is all too soon broken by a loud thud, shattering the intimate moment and causing us both to flinch. I drag the sheets over my chest, worried eyes meeting Grey’s.

Silence descends over the room like a thick cloud, warping reality and making breathing impossible.

“Did that sound just come from outside?” I whisper, feeling my face drain of color.

Grey’s gaze snaps to the window, his own face going ashen as he nervously wets his lips. He hands me my shirt, and I grab it with visibly trembling hands before dragging it over my head, letting it fall over my body.

The only sound audible is the whistling wind, making a rushing sound that slices through the stillness of the night like a sharp knife. It feels like a high-pitched eeriness, relentless in its pursuit of whoever dares disrupt it.

”What the fuck was that?” I hiss out, my voice trembling and barely steady.

Grey silently stands on his feet, the bed creating a creaking sound as it shifts under his weight. He approaches the window, where the wind crawls through the crevices like a human-like wail—is someone lurking just beyond the walls?

One beat passes in which Grey pulls away the curtains, peeking out into the darkness. Tension rolls off him in waves as his shoulders hunch involuntarily, prompting me to approach him. My mouth is as dry as the oasis when I grab his hand, seeking reassurance in the warmth of his touch.

Yet, his body language speaks volumes, and his calm demeanor is stunted by terror. I follow his gaze into the darkness beyond the window, and my own heart pounds like a drumbeat.

Something sinister lurks outside, because there, lying right outside our window, is a note in sprawled and red bold letters, dripping as if it were written in fresh blood.

I take a step back, the pounding rush in my ears making them ring violently. The wind quickly grabs the note in its hold as it flies away, and yet, I managed to see what kind of words were written across the paper.

From Grey’s clenched jaw and expression looking nauseous, I know he saw it too. The exact same words Arthur stuttered out the seconds before his death.

“This isn’t the end.”