Page 24

Aurelia

It’s late when I stumble home, the sting of cheap vodka still clinging to the back of my throat. Blush had me drinking like the world was fucking ending and maybe it is, but hell, she made it taste good. I went there after a day of training, and I can’t wait to get out of my costume.

I sway a little as I climb the steps to my trailer and the door creaks open under my hand. I slip inside, kicking it shut behind me before reaching blindly for the light switch, fingertips brushing the wall.

But suddenly I freeze when I feel like there’s something behind me. Before I can react, fabric slips over my eyes, cool and soft like silk, but it clamps down fast and tight. I let out a sharp scream, but it dies in my throat the moment I’m yanked and my back crashes into something solid.

“Shhh…” Wrath hushes into my ear from behind, and it coils down my spine like a whip.

I let him tie the blindfold, and I try to breathe through the storm brewing in my chest.

“Where have you been?” My voice is whisper-sharp. “I haven’t seen you for a few days and you just show up here, frightening the shit out of me?”

His hand shoots up, seizing my throat like he owns it, tilting my head back so I’m forced to feel his breath on my cheek, hot and ragged. The other slips under my tutu, fingers roughly forcing there way under the gaps of my fishnets and panties without hesitation, like he’s furious I even dared to question him.

“Is… Is that you confessing to me that your pretty pussy is dripping scared… Little corpse.”

My knees almost give way just from his deep, chilling voice alone, but when he begins to harshly rub his fingers over my clit and pussyhole, back to front, I’m melting in his arms.

The dull discomfort is still there from what he did to me the other night, as expected, I almost died by his entire hand. I asked him to ruin me, and boy did he.

But just feeling his hands on me again now, is all I’ve wanted while he’s been gone.

It’s knowing for me now more than ever, that when he inflicts agony on my body, it doesn’t just hurt—it empties me. It drags the buried pain to the surface and leaves it bleeding in his hands.

And the next day, his touch still haunts my bruised skin, what he did still aches my muscles… but my soul… it feels revived into something new, like the pain he gives me is the only thing that sets me free.

And I’m addicted to it. I’m addicted to him.

His teeth graze my jaw with a low, rough growl, dragging a twitch from my thighs as my eyes roll back beneath the blindfold.

Then he yanks his hand out, wet and unapologetic, and I hear it. The obscene sound of him sucking each fingertip clean, tasting me. My breath catches just before his hand clamps around my chin, firm and possessive, forcing my face toward his.

“Those… Those are the only tears your body will ever spill now you’re mine, Allure… The ones your wet cunt weeps for me…” He pauses, a small strain in his throat before continuing. “Because fear… pain… pleasure… it can’t tell the fucking difference anymore. It just knows me—it knows who the fuck it belongs to,” he finishes with a vicious hiss against my lips.

“I… I…” A stutter falls out, but I can’t say much else, I’m too much in shock.

“Say yes Wrath,” he snarls darkly.

“Yes Wrath,” I repeat without hesitation, followed by a hard swallow, his dominance ruining me—destroying any defiance I ever had.

He’s far more intimidating with his voice, like it’s been dragged up from the pits of hell he crawled out of. Holyfuck. It strips me bare faster than his hands ever could. It feels like I never reallymethim before now, just the shell of him.

“Good girl… Did… Did you miss me?” he asks, his lips brushing mine, his breath a mix of tobacco and minty gum.

“I did,” I answer, barely above a whisper. “A lot.”

He presses a firm kiss on my painted lips, then, without warning, he releases me, stepping away and everything stills, like the air’s been sucked out of the room.

I don’t hear him move, but I feel the shift just before I’m yanked off the ground and flung over his shoulder like a lifeless corpse

“Fuck—” The word wrenches from my throat, but it’s swallowed by the spin and disorientation.

The trailer door flings open, and a sharp gust of night slaps my skin. My nails claw at his leather jacket, but he just walks with no explanation of where he’s taking me.

After walking for what feels like forever, my body starts to go limp against him, sagging like dead weight. I’ve asked him three times now where the fuck he’s taking me, voice muffled from how I’m slung.

Every time, he just smacks my ass.. hard. The kind of smack that that leaves handprints and echoes in the night. He’s slipped into silent mode again, that eerie, loaded quiet.

Then I hear a metal gate being unlocked and my head snaps up as best it can, blindfold brushing my cheeks. The drag of a chain hits the ground with a heavyclunk, and the gate creaks open.

Wrath keeps moving, his stride the same and I groan, giving up again, letting my body slump.

We stop again, and this time I hear a door another door, this one different. Heavy and industrial. It groans open and the second we’re inside, a wave of warmth hits my skin.

Then the smell hits me. That strange, unmistakable Oddity scent that always lingers in the air, but stronger in here.

Death.

Wherever we are, it’s not somewhere I’ve been before.

He takes me inside a room after carrying me through what feels like an endless maze of rotting halls. The lock snaps into place and the second my feet hit the floor, he tears the blindfold off.

Light stabs at my eyes through the haze, and I squint up to see his expression is unreadable, carved from stone. As my vision clears, the room unfolds around me, and I look around.

Black matte walls swallow what little light there is, the space bathed in a low, blood-red glow. Spikes protrude from the ceiling—some long, others jagged and broken.

In the center sits a wide, leather chair and the far wall houses a long, metallic table and it seems like tools are laid out on it, but I can’t see from here. I edge toward it, drawn in against my better judgment. My gaze drifts over them and they’re knives, bone saws, rusted shears, masks with no eyes, clamps, hooks. Things meant to kill in the most horrifying way possible.

I swallow and turn sharply to face Wrath but freeze when I catch sight of something over his shoulder.

A massive pane of dark, tinted glass spans the opposite wall. Below it, a console hums faintly, its buttons blinking with erratic light. Red. white. Red. white. Like a heartbeat.

To the right, I turn my body and gaze up at a row of monitors flickering on the wall. They show grainy live footage of dark hallways and rooms, all empty and silent, lit only by flickering strobes.

“What is this place?” I murmur, watching as the camera’s change from one room to the next every couple of seconds.

“The… The Death Rooms. We’re in the control centre,” Wrath answers lowly. “It’s one of our Dark Night… Amusements.”

What’s strange is this place isn’t what truly unsettles me, it’s how he said it. His tone, and it rings alarm bells in my ears. Something’s about to happen, something’s wrong, and he doesn’t know if I’m gonna like it.

“Why am I here, Wrath?” I ask, spinning on my heel to face him, the words tight in my throat.

“I have something for you,” he says, his red eyes raking over me slowly like he’s ready to eat me alive.

“Something?” I ask, fiddling with the necklace around my neck, trying to steady myself.

He pauses, his gaze glinting for just a moment before he blinks his thoughts away. Without another word, he strides toward the control panel and slaps down on a button, hard.

The room behind the tinted glass lights up in a sickly red glow, buzzing to life, but my stomach sinks the moment I spot what’s in the center of the room, a cold horror spreading through me.

Tears threaten to spill over, but before they can, a rage surges through me. I move fast, bolting for the door, desperate to get out. But the moment my hand touches the handle, his arm wraps around my waist from behind, yanking me back against his chest.

“Get the fuck off me!” I yell, ripping myself out of his arms.

He finally lets go, and I spin around to face him, seething. My glare could shatter glass, but all I feel is the tightness in my chest as my breath gets caught. The room feels like it’s closing in on me, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the window.

They’re gagged and strapped in metal chairs,, the kind that look like something straight out of a medieval torture chamber. My heart plummets, the reality of them being here when I weren’t ready, hits like a physical blow.

“Can they hear us?” I ask, keeping my focus locked on my two foster brothers, Lake and Elias.

“No,” he responds flatly.

“Good.” The word falls from my lips, bitter and shaky.

“You had no right...” I whisper, the words breaking as they leave me, and I look at him.

“Little corpse…”

“No,” I interrupt, voice rising. “If I wanted your help, I would’ve come to you, Wrath. But you took it upon yourself to dig into my past, a past I would have told you about when I was ready, and take everything away from me? My choices. My fucking control. My right to do this myself. Do you even understand that?”

I lean in closer with a fire in my veins. “I was supposed to do this alone. I needed it more than you can ever know. To make sureIwas the one to take them down. Not you. Not anyone else. Just me. It was the only way I could make things right.”

The tears threaten to spill as I continue.

“I wanted tofeelthat power. Just once. I wanted to know that I was the one who was capable of deciding how it ended. But you... you didn’t give me that choice. You took it from me without asking.”

I pause, my breath shallow, the words heavy with hurt. “You think I’m weak, is that it? That I can’t handle my past? That I neededyouto fix it for me? You think I’m fucking grateful? That you can just step into my life like some big, hunky, horrifying villain and make everything fucking better? That’s not how this works. You can’t repair what’s been done to me. OnlyIcan.”

He blinks at me, that twisted, unreadable look flickering in his eyes, like he's trying to dissect my words, strip them apart more than I said aloud. His hands tremble at his sides, fists clenched before he steps forward, slowly, and I lower my head, whipping my tears with the backs of my hands.

When he’s in front of me, dominating the space between us, he lowers onto his knees in front of me, and my eyes drag down to his. His trembling hands gently land on the otter area of my thighs, moving up and over my tutu, tracing my curves like he worships me, until they settle on my corset strapped waist.

“You’re not weak, Aurelia… I fucking am .” His voice is hushed, edged of something dangerous.

I stare into the red spirals in his eyes, churning like a tornado and it’s not rage I see. It’s something terrifyingly beautiful. Respect. Madness. Obsession.

“I’m fucking weak enough to fall to my knees for you… I’m weak enough to drag your past here in chains because I thought... I thought maybe if you saw them suffer quicker, it would loosen the noose around your neck.”

His voice grows hoarser, lower, unravelling thread by thread.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he breathes, staring up at me and I just blink, another tear rolling down my cheek. “You think this was about my control. But it wasn’t…. It was about you … I don’t want to fucking fix you, Aurelia… I… I want tobreakbeside you.”

My breath catches, but I just stay silent, listening intently.

“I’m an evil fucking monster, little corpse... I’ve done… terrible things. There’s no denying that. But I… I’d tear this world the fuck apart for you, piece by piece, if it meant building you a… a place where you didn’t feel like you have to be one all the time too.”

He reaches up, wiping a tear gently away from my cheek with his thumb.

“…You wanted to be strong on your own, but you don’t have to carry it the fuck alone… not with me here. Not when I’d gut hell itself just to watch all that pain crawl out of your eyes…. I won’t take your vengeance, Allure. I’ll just hold your past still while you slice it’s fucking throat open.”

My heart throbs at his deep, meaningful words, a pang of emotion sinking in. Again, he’s making me feel safe. Wanted. Even if my rage and confusion.

I sniffle, wiping both cheeks again, my head falling back against the door. My mind spins as I glance over at them—their faces, the haunting memories I can’t seem to ever escape.

After a moment, I finally drag my eyes back to Wrath, finding him still waiting below me. His gaze is steady on mine as my hand reaches for him, fingers sweeping through his messy dark hair, the texture grounding me.

How the fuck can I be angry with him? He brought them to me. He dragged them here like proof that he knows what I want even when I didn’t say a word. He made it easy. Too fucking easy. He gave me what I wanted without me even breaking a sweat.

Maybe it’s the shock. Them. Him . All of it in the same room, breathing the same air, like the past decided to kick in the door and watch me fall apart.

And I do feel like I’m falling apart. But this rage—it’s not helping. It’s just noise in my blood, setting fire to things that haven’t even begun to burn yet.

It’s not his fault.

It never has been.

Yeah, he dug into my personal affairs, I’m still not sure how much he knows, but I think, in his own possessive way, he just wants to protect me. He wants to be the ghost behind me while I do the haunting. And maybe I wanted him here. No. Maybe, deep down, I needed him here, in this moment, more than I ever thought. And I didn’t realize it until now.

I lower myself down to his height, my gaze falling on his painted lips as the words slip out.

“So, how does this place work, circus boy?”

His red eyes flash, something unhinged and daring behind them and he reaches out as he straightens. I barely flinch before he slips his big hands under my arms, lifting me easily off the ground.

My breath hitches as he carries me across the room, my body wrapped around his, until we reach a narrow steel table beside the control center. He sets me down and stands between my legs, boxing me in.

“You have three options…” he murmurs deeply, and it feels like he’s handing me a blade wrapped in velvet.

“One,” he begins, red eyes fiery, voice unnerving. “Let them loose in the Death Rooms. Let the walls have them…. Let… Let the traps do the talking. And you… you can just watch.”

My lips part, but I stay quiet.

“Two: walk in there yourself and look them in the eye… while you fucking choose how they end.”

“Or three…” His head tilts. “I take the pair of cunts back where I found them.... Pretend tonight didn’t happen. And you do it your way. When… when you’re ready to finally unleash your wrath.”

I glance over my shoulder for a second, my eyes moving to the glass, to two of my rapists and my chest tightens, my past still breathing uglily right in front of me.

My gaze focuses on Lake’s eyes, closed with blood dragging down his cheek.

“What happened to Lake’s eye?” I ask curiously.

“It kept twitching at me,” Wrath mutters. “So, I ground my knife into it until it stopped.”

I raise an eyebrow followed by a small snicker and headshake.

“But, where’s Zye?” I ask, voice brittle as I turn to face him, and his expression shifts, his jaw locking before he shakes his head once.

“I wasn’t able to get him… not yet, my little corpse. But I will... If you just say the word.”

I nod slightly as I think carefully.

“The woman…” Wrath continues and my gaze darts to his. “She’s already dead. An… An illness.”

My eyes narrow and there’s a sensation running through me, but it’s not grief. Just a cold fury that I didn’t get to end the old hag first.

“Hmm,” I murmur. “Pity. I wanted to see how much of her fragile skin I could peel away from her body before she stopped screaming.”

My eyes wander to the controls, fingers brushing over the blinking lights, each one a doorway to torment.

“Well…” I breathe. “Maybe we don’t have to pick just one option.”

Wrath stays silent as I continue.

“What if I…we… let them see me first,” I suggest. “Let them recognize why they’re here before I rip their sight out, nerve by nerve.”

I glance up at the monitors.

“Then we let them run the Death Rooms like bleeding vermin, blind and screeching. We’ll watch it like it’s our favorite horror movie. And once it’s finally over, we package up their eyes and send them back to Zye. Let him know his brothers are gone and he’s next.”

Wrath’s jaw ticks, but he says nothing as the light in his eyes fractures, something darkening at the edges. He lifts his chin slightly, inspecting at me like I’ve bloomed into something evil and magnificent.

Both his hands reach up and slowly wrap around my throat causing a shiver to ripple through me. My eyes flutter closed, head tipping back, exposing my neck to him like an offering and he dips his mouth down to my parted lips.

“You’re so damn fucking pretty,” he murmurs, lips brushing mine. “It almost makes me want to…”

His grip tightens just enough to halt the breath in my throat, just enough for him to savor the throb of my pulse like it’s speaking to him. It tells him things I never say aloud. Things that make his control unravel.

Then he makes a sharp sound with his tongue—

Crack

–and his thumbs press deeper into the sides of my neck, mimicking the snap of my spine. My lashes flutter as my eyes slowly open, a grin edging across my lips.

We scan each other eyes, my smile fading as we both fall into a strange silence, until I whisper.

“But you haven’t… Is that why you won’t…”

His gaze lowers to my mouth as the words slip past my lips, then gradually meets mine again. He doesn’t answer so I wrap my hands around his wrists.

“Can’t we at least try… Once. I…”

My words trail off as his hands loosen and slip away like he’s afraid of what might happen if he holds on a second longer.

He doesn’t look at me, just turns his head to the side, his jaw clenched, and I can tell there’s a war screaming in his mind and he’s trying not to lose to it.

Once deciding he’s not going to answer me, he instead stalks over to the tools, fingers brushing over them until one catches his interest. He lifts it, something sharp and gleaming, then tilts his head toward the door as he walks toward it.

I slide off the table, my boots hitting the floor with a soft thud. An exhale escapes me, tight and shaky, readying myself for what comes next.