Page 60 of Missing Piece (Neon Scars #2)

“Does your more interesting thing involve killing old folks and finger painting with their blood? Because I think he’s had his fill of that while you were off eating rats in a bayou somewhere,” Adam taunted, grinding his heels into the thin layer of debris and decay.

“My, my, aren’t we bold tonight? The last time I saw you, you were a cowering little mess covered in bites and bruises.” Richard’s lips curled into a smile. “Let’s remedy that.”

Richard’s fist connected with Adam’s jaw, sending a burst of pain through his skull. Before he could recover, another blow landed on his cheekbone, followed swiftly by a punch to his gut that knocked the wind out of him. Adam doubled over, gasping for air.

He swayed, fighting for balance, but he didn’t want to give Richard a reason to view him from another angle and discover the weapon in his back pocket. He decided to play it up, exaggerating a stumble and collapsing onto his ass with a groan.

Richard knelt down in front of him, studying his face for a moment before he swiped a finger through the blood trickling down Adam’s face and brought it to his lips. “Mmm,” he purred. “You do taste sweet. I can almost see why Vincent wanted to keep you around.”

Adam glared up at Richard, fighting to keep his voice steady despite the dizziness creeping in. “I’m not afraid of you,” he spat, even as dread coiled in his gut. “Your stupid woo-woo powers might work on vampires, but they don’t impress me.”

Richard’s eyebrows rose, amusement dancing in his stare. He reached out, fingers stretching towards Adam’s face.

“Wait!” Adam blurted out, desperate to stall. “How can you do that? Use your powers on other vampires, I mean. I’ve been told it shouldn’t be possible.”

Richard paused, his hand hovering inches from Adam’s face.

A slow smile spread across his lips. “Curious little thing, aren’t you?

” he mused. “It’s really simple. Vampires have a lot of rules they’re just supposed to know, but when you don’t have someone around to tell you what you’re doin’ wrong, you break all the biggest rules. ”

Adam heard the distinct crunch of Vincent’s footsteps behind him, a sudden, deliberate step forward that betrayed Richard’s hold. “H-have you been feeding on other vampires?” Vincent asked, his voice a strained stutter.

Richard threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the dark room.

“The old man probably told you it would kill you, right?” He shook his head.

“Lies. Probably half of it was lies to keep control over you, though it was terribly painful for the first few feedings. But you do what you must when you are desperate.”

“But…that’s—” Vincent began.

“So you’re chowing down on your own kind, even now? That’s fucked up, but I’m bored,” Adam interrupted, trying to pull Richard’s attention back to himself. Richard glared at him like he had just interrupted a Shakespearean soliloquy. Focus on me, you pompous fuck.

“I think I’ve had enough of your mouth, at least in this form,” Richard said, his jaw tight.

He stroked Adam’s cheek, his eyes lighting up as it appeared an idea came to him, and said in that same hushed tone from back in the club’s bathroom, “A lot of pain is gonna come to you, and I’m goin’ to make sure that you’re awake and conscious for all of it.

I’m so excited to see all the ways I can make Vincent ruin you. ”

The familiar false dread crashed over him, wrapping around him and making Adam want to fold in on himself.

But he had figured this out once before.

Even as Richard traced a finger across his trembling lower lip and down to his collar, he bit down on the inside of his cheek, refusing to blink as involuntary tears dripped down his cheeks, focusing on his anger.

I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you. I’m going to fucking kill you. He repeated it over and over like a mantra as he tasted his own blood on his tongue, still unblinking as Richard ripped open the front of his shirt and traced his faded bruises with a sharp fingernail.

He heard Vincent’s feet grind into the concrete again, another small betrayal of Richard’s control.

His hands tensed and he took a deep breath through his nose as Richard leaned towards his exposed collar, his fangs descending.

Adam moved his fingers slowly, fingerspelling the word “don’t” behind his back.

I don’t want to get bit by Richard again, but I’m not in a position to do anything to help Vincent, and from where Richard is, he could easily attack either of us. The only option is to take whatever’s about to happen.

“Just so you know, this won’t end even when you beg to be one of us. You ran off at the mouth too much, and someone needs to teach you some goddamn manners,” Richard whispered.

Adam tried not to move or make a sound during the first bite into his collar, still focused on his rage.

But the second bite to his shoulder made him grunt, and he flinched on the third wide-mouthed bite that punctured his bicep.

Each bite was somehow worse than the last, his muscles burning with pain as Richard bit into him over and over.

It was nothing like when Vincent bit him.

Richard’s fangs went deep, down to his blunt human teeth, and he seemed to bite in a way that always tore the skin as he pulled away.

Despite the cold, he was on fire, sweat mixing with blood as he lost count of how many times Richard bit into his arms, his neck, his chest. The room spun slightly, his vision going soft around the edges.

Any semblance of stoicism was gone. Adam cried out with every bite, then clamped his own teeth down on his lip, his cheeks, his tongue, to keep the waves of terror at bay, each one growing stronger whenever Richard bit down on a new part of him, never taking more than a lap from each wound.

Richard’s smug grin widened as he crouched at Adam’s feet, his face smeared with blood. Even as Adam tried to catch his breath, his throat raw, he tried to prepare a retort. Something stupid or crass to keep Richard’s focus on me.

But it was the sight of Richard’s hands on his shoes that sent him over the edge. The thought of losing his prosthetic again, of being left vulnerable and immobile, was too much to bear. His hold on his anger slipped away, replaced by a rising tide of panic.

“No, stop!” Adam cried out, his voice cracking. “Don’t fucking touch me! Leave it alone!”

He began to kick wildly, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. As the panic took hold, doubt crept in. What if I’ve been wrong about Vincent? What if there’s no control, no plan? What if I’ve deluded myself into thinking Vincent is on my side?

Richard’s voice cut through the panic. “Vincent, hold him still.”

Adam tensed, waiting for rough hands to grab him.

But when Vincent’s grip settled on his shoulders, it was surprisingly gentle—a steadying pressure rather than restraint.

The panic receded slightly, allowing Adam to think more clearly.

He looked up at Vincent, searching for any sign, any hint that he wasn’t alone in this.

Vincent’s gaze met Adam’s, and for a brief moment, something flickered in their depths like a silent communication, a reassurance. Adam’s racing heart slowed slightly, his breathing evening out.

Richard, oblivious to their wordless exchange, chuckled darkly as he pulled off Adam’s shoe. “That’s better. Now, let’s see what we have here.” His fingers traced the edge of Adam’s prosthetic, probing and exploring with clinical fascination.

Adam bit back a whimper, forcing himself to remain still. He focused on Vincent’s steady touch, using it as an anchor against the rising tide of revulsion.

“Fascinatin’,” Richard murmured, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Such a shame, really. How did this happen?”

Adam remained silent, jaw clenched tight. He wouldn’t give Richard the satisfaction of a response.

A cruel smile playing at Richard’s lips. “No matter. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to discuss it later.” He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his knees. “For now, I think it’s time we moved on to the main event, don’t you?”

Richard looked to Vincent, his expression shifting to one of mock concern.

“Vincent, he’s been so quiet. How do you normally make this pet sing for you?

” His question was met with silence, Vincent’s jaw working as if fighting against invisible bonds.

“Do you remember how the old man liked to begin his visits with us? Perhaps we should start there?”

Vincent’s touch tightened on Adam’s shoulders, just for a moment, before relaxing as he seemed to react against his will to the proposal. “I-I don’t do that…I mean, I’ve never—”

Richard feigned a gasp and chuckled. “No wonder this one ain’t scared enough.

Roughin’ them up has its place, but they don’t truly understand someone until you take every part of them, and God does it feel good.

” Richard stood, maintaining eye contact with Adam as he licked his lips.

“You know, I was gonna just make you kill him, but I think it’s time to break him properly. ”

Adam’s stomach dropped. He wasn’t just talking about torture.

Vincent’s hands trembled against Adam’s shoulders. “I don’t think I want that,” Vincent said quietly, his own voice uncertain but pushing through the compulsion.

Richard rolled his eyes and placed his hand on Vincent’s cheek again. “Of course you do. It’s how you’re gonna make up for all that time leavin’ me alone.”

Doubts wormed their way into Adam’s mind, twisting and turning, whispering treacherous possibilities. He wanted to scream, to demand that Vincent fight back, to tell Richard to go to hell. But the words died in his throat, choked by the dread that coiled tight in his gut .

Finally, after an eternity that probably lasted thirty seconds, Vincent spoke. His voice was flat, devoid of any emotion, as if the words were being forced from his lips. “You’re right,” Vincent said. “I am going to make it up to you.”

Please be playing along. “Vincent…” Adam began as Richard winked at him.

“Finally! Some good God damn compliance. Doesn’t it feel better now that you’re not resistin’ so hard?

Come on, I have a spot that is much more comfortable.

” With a hand wave, Richard turned around and began walking toward a corridor away from the main room, whistling a carefree tune that was far too loud and cheerful for the building that felt like it was closing in on them.

Vincent yanked Adam upright, the motion making him stumble as dizziness washed over him. Adam dug in his heels, refusing to move. “Vincent, snap out of it! This isn’t you! Remember what you said? Don’t do this, please!”

Vincent shoved him forward, but as he did, his fingers worked at the knots, loosening them further. Adam tried to twist around, his fingers finally able to brush against the handle of the knife. Hope, fragile and desperate, flickered within him.

“Forward,” Vincent’s voice was emotionless.

Before Adam could react, Vincent’s arm wrapped around his chest, lifting him slightly off the ground. His freed hands, now clutching the knife handle, were pinned between their bodies, his knuckles pressing into Vincent’s abdomen. The blade was hidden but ready.

“Don’t raise suspicion. Keep fighting. Be ready,” Vincent murmured against his ear, the words so quiet Adam almost missed them.

Relief washed over Adam so potent it almost made him dizzy.

Or maybe that was the blood loss and cold .

He leaned into the hold, feigning a struggle, carefully angling the knife away from Vincent’s body.

Fear and a furious, desperate hope clashed within him as Vincent half-dragged, half-carried him down the corridor.

Richard waited for them by a room with its door slightly ajar.

The flickering glow of cheap electric lanterns spilled out, casting long, dancing shadows.

Adam glimpsed a small table laden with gleaming instruments, an old desk shoved against the wall, and in the center of the room, a wooden chair that looked as though it was waiting for its first victim.

How long can I keep up this act?

“I love you,” Vincent whispered, his breath cool against Adam’s ear.

Joy, so powerful it bordered on pain, shot through Adam.

It was quickly followed by a surge of anger—that the words, the words he didn’t know he craved to hear, would come at a time like this, when he was about to be strung up like a Christmas goose.

But before he could even form a response, before he could savor the moment, Vincent’s expression hardened back into a mask.

Without warning, Vincent slammed him down onto the desk.