Page 34
Story: Seeing Red (The Codex #1)
Baron’s directions led us back into the cabin I’d found a dead body stuffed into a freezer. Deitrich. The name is carved into the door—something I’d missed when I first broke in here. I’d expected, or rather hoped, that Baron and Castor would’ve seen to some kind of burial for the man they’d incidentally murdered, but it was obvious that they’d forgotten him when the door swings open and reveals a wash of decay, stinking even worse than the mine’s gas, and a trail of flies and maggots swarm the bedroom where Dietrich’s body is being eaten by.
I choke down the bile, and step back. Even Castor has to turn away for a moment before he slams the bedroom door shut, making the stench only slightly more bearable.
Castor eases Baron onto the couch, who has done more than his fair share of complaining during the hike up the hill. Quickly, Castor moves to clean Baron’s wounds. The bullet hadn’t even hit him. It grazed his ribcage, only tearing off a minimal amount of skin. No worse than a bad burn, in my experience, but Baron winces and groans from the pain like he lost his leg.
I don’t let my eyes linger, they’ll tempt me to look too long, to glimpse under the slight lift of Baron’s shirt and the bloody lean muscle underneath, or the way they contract when he grunts in pain.
I turn my attention back to the unconscious sniper crumpled on the rug in the living room. He’s breathing steadily, shivering every now and then from the gusts of frigid air that blow through the open door before the wind whips it shut. I make quick work of stripping his armor, emptying endless pockets of bullets and knives until he’s left in nothing but his thin black under armor.
There isn’t much to secure him to. Baron and Castor destroyed most of the furniture when they found his body. Wood fragments of couches and cabinets are strewn across the floor, the glass display shattered and ripped from the wall. The only pieces of the house still intact is a wood stove sat against the back wall and a single mirror, stretching from the ceiling to the hardwood, reflecting back at me.
It’s the first time I’ve seen my reflection since I was deployed. I’d prided myself on my lean frame, but I’m thin and ghostly. Castor’s clothes hang off my body like rags despite being tied tightly around me, and my dark tanned skin is a sickly pale, hardly any darker than the snow outside. I don’t look like me. I look like something else—that side we all try to hide from ourselves, the same side that would claw from a grave to make someone suffer. I’m darker, quieter, some creature created in the mines that’s capable of doing horrible things to the people who put me in there.
I glance back at the sniper and the woodstove, and I break out in a grin.
I won’t just hurt them for it. I’ll enjoy every single second of it.
I drag the sniper to the woodstove, using his own cuffs to secure him to it. He could’ve killed all three of us. He knew we’d make it out too, and he was waiting for us, as if dropping two tons of fuciking rock on our heads isn’t enough.
I’m tired. I didn’t want this. I don’t care about the Codex anymore. Baron and Castor can go to hell, and take Acacia with them. I’m a soldier, but this isn’t my battle. I became some mercenary’s target because of intel that didn’t exist, and I am so fucking tired—tired of being lied to, manipulated, shot at, held hostage.
This is the end of it.
I turn back to the two men, Baron swatting Castor away while he hovers like a mom with her child.
“How is he?” I say after a beat.
Baron’s eyes snap to me, his lip curled in agitation.
“‘He’ was shot, not deaf.”
What a shame that would be.
I swallow down my anger, just this once. I’d rather direct it towards someone who wouldn’t shove a gun up my ass for talking back. Even then, I feel a pang of guilt when Castor’s eyes catch mine for a brief moment.
The words drag in my mouth, but I force myself to say them anyway. I’m not a monster, and I won’t let them turn me into one.
“I’m sorry about what happened in the mine,” I say to Castor. “I didn’t know. Honest.”
Castor’s head turns, just enough that I catch a rare glimpse of emotion in his eyes before he turns away again.
“We’re alive,” he says curtly. “Just leave it at that.”
I press my lips together. I can’t say I didn’t deserve that. At least I’m not dead, and he’s more than concerned with Baron’s ‘injury’ to give me any attention.
I lean forward slowly, grabbing Baron’s gun from its holster. Baron watches me with a curious eye but I turn my back, checking the clip as I crouch by the sniper. Fourteen bullets. Fourteen ways to convince him to talk to me. Fourteen bullets and two questions.
My dad and Acacia.
The sniper stirs when I turn the dial to light the fire. Coals simmer above him and quickly, the grated metal turns red, and he snaps away. He lunges forward only to be pulled back by his cuffs, securing him to the stove.
I sit back while his eyes dart around wildly and his body thrashes from the heat, but when he sees me, he freezes and then bursts into laughter.
The gun twitches in my hand. The urge to empty the clip into his skull is tempting. Too fucking tempting. But I wait. I listen and watch him laugh at his predicament, as if his clothes aren’t currently being burned off his body.
I tilt my gun at him, gazing down the barrel to watch the blur of movement. He watches me with equal amusement. His laughter dies out, but his grin stays.
“Is that supposed to scare me?” He chides.
“Do you know who I am?” I ask.
He snorts, his crooked teeth showing through his smile.
“Really? That’s what you’re starting with?”
“Let me rephrase.” I point the gun at his knee. “How do you know who I am?”
He laughs, jarring the coals above him. “My eyes are up here, princess. You’re not going to do any damage down there.”
I fire the gun and it blasts through his knee.
The sniper falls back, screaming in agony. I watch him—the blood pouring from his joint, the bones scattered everywhere and his face contorted in pain—but strangely, I don’t feel anything. It’s strange, but I don’t feel sad or hurt. I feel nothing.
I feel great.
Baron laughs from behind me, cackling louder than the sniper’s screams.
“Attagirl, Helena. Get him!”
I watch the man for a moment longer before I crouch just in front of his mangled foot, resting my hands on my knees.
“I don’t think you heard me correctly,” I cock the gun again. “How do you know who I am?”
“Fuck you, bitch!”
I sigh and shoot out his other knee, watching him devolve into another fit of agony.
“Goddamn, Helena, give him a chance to speak,” Baron says, his voice laced with shock. “You won’t get anything out of him like that.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Like they haven’t done worse to people than a simple gunshot wound. I could’ve carved out his eyes, but then Baron would have to fight over who gets to use his precious knives. Guess I’ll have to settle for a gun.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I cock the gun again.
The sniper pulls weakly against the cuffs behind him. His entire body tenses, like he’s trying to reject the pain, to will himself to go into shock long enough to muddle the agony he’s feeling. I could ease up. Baron’s right. If he goes into shock or dies, I won’t get any answers.
Oh well.
I move the gun back and forth, letting the weight of it sway in my hand while I decide what to target next. He has two hip joints…two shoulders, two arms, plenty of fingers…
“You’re fucking crazy, lady,” the sniper snaps. “I was just doing my job!”
“Enlighten me.”
He grunts, his body shifting while he desperately tries to sit up, only to slip on his own blood.
“No one gets out of the mine. That was my contract.”
I nod. “And who contracted you?”
His mouth clamps shut instantly, too quickly for it to be his own stubbornness. For once, I see a flicker of fear in his eyes and it’s not from me.
I click the chamber, inspecting it with a shrug. “You can play silent all you like. You have eight more joints and I have twelve bullets left. It was Acacia.”
His eyes snap to mine.
“Who the hell told you that name?”
I shoot his wrist, blowing his hand out by the kitchen. “Don’t interrupt me.”
“Helena!” Castor’s voice booms.
I don’t bother waiting for him to quiet down, and his screams are starting to give me a headache. I don’t have the patience that Baron and Castor do, and I’m not in the fucking mood to wait for him to realize that the tears and snot running down his face doesn’t mean jack shit to me until I get what I want.
I cock the gun again, but a hand wraps around it. Castor pulls it towards him, his face turned up in concern. I pull back but Castor holds on tighter.
“Give him a chance to speak, doll,” he says quietly. “This is too far.”
“Fuck off,” I snarl, wrenching the gun out of his grip. “This is my kill!”
Baron speaks up, his voice also sporting that aggravating mask of concern. “Helena, you’re going to kill him before you get any information.”
“Then I’ll find someone else to give me what I need.” Castor takes a step towards me and I raise the gun. My hands are shaking but I keep my grip tight. How dare they tell me what’s too far? After everything they subjected me to, they have the fucking audacity to tell me that a few simple gunshot wounds is too far? This is my kill. Mine. They don’t get to fucking control me. They’re not in control and neither is Acacia. I am. Me. My fucking kill.
“Back off,” I pant. “Either leave or shut the fuck up.”
Castor raises his hands in surrender, backing towards the broken couch. Both of them stare at me, either in fear or in shock that I finally feel able to do what I’ve wanted to do since they’d wormed their way into my life. They should be grateful I’m doing this to one of Acacia’s foot soldiers and not them.
The sound of laughter pulls me back. It’s not from Baron or Castor. Behind me, the screams have stopped. The sniper is slumped against the hot wood stove, blood caked on every inch of him and his face is curled up in a grin as he laughs. Fucking laughs.
“Man, they fucked you up good, lady.” His eyes meet mine and his grin widens. “Alastor sends his regards.”
So it was him. The man I served alongside with. My CO’s second in command was a fucking mercenary. No—he had an entire fucking network of mercenaries that infiltrated the fucking military. A man I trusted my life with and he killed innocent people for money.
“Alastor Bane,” I grit out.
“Who else?”
I pause. The thought has nagged at me the moment the mine caved in. Those few words that Baron and Castor spoke to me seconds before.
“What about his brother?” Those words leave a bad taste in my mouth even as I force them out.
The sniper shrugs. “He’s dead.”
I cock the gun. “That’s not what I asked.”
His smile fades and his eyes lock on my gun before falling to the tattered remains of his legs.
“Yeah, the fucker was part of Acacia,” he spits out. “He and his brother built it decades ago. It’s everywhere: Security, military. Your little task force was a farce, princess. Everyone in it was contracted just to kill you.”
I freeze.
My heart stills, and the calmness I felt vanished. That’s not possible. It’s a fucking lie.
“What?”
His head falls back as he laughs derisively.
“You’re fucking stupid,” he spits. “Do you think someone like you would last in the real military? Your attitude would’ve gotten you killed a long time ago, but you thought it would turn you into a captain?” he scoffs, his bared teeth stained with blood. “It was Acacia, dumbass. Every single one of your achievements was because of them. You’re just a target.”
I fall back, my gun faltering. It shatters me, and I find myself clutching the air for balance. The room is spinning, I can’t think. I can’t speak. I knew Acacia was connected to the military, to my dad. When Anderson came to my cell that night to kill me, I knew he and Alastor were conspiring to kill me, but there were more than those two in my task force. My friends, my family. Sara.
Tears sparkle in my eyes.
Not Sara. Not my best friend. She wouldn’t do that to me. She cared about me. She died for me.
The thoughts repeat in my head like a broken record, but every time I say it back, it pushes a weight on my chest, tighter and tighter, until a quiet sob breaks free. Was everything I knew a lie? All of my achievements, all of my aspirations, my friends, my connections. Year of my life, my schooling. I’d grown up around that security company and even longer around the military. Was all of that a front just to lure me here? To get rid of me?
I flinch when a hand touches mine.
Castor closes his hand gently over the gun, turning me to face him. “We can take over, Helena,” he says softly. “It’s alright.”
I shake him off, snapping the gun back to him. The weight in my chest burns and the indifference I’d felt towards the sniper snapped.
It’s not about answers anymore.
I stride towards him until the gun is jammed under his chin.
“John Kinsley.”
The sniper leans back and his brows push together in confusion. “What?”
I drive my foot into his side and he falls back. His body jars the woodstove above him, sending cinders and coals down his shirt and into his lap.
He screams, his body shaking frantically to remove the fire but I kick him again and more fall while he screams.
“You know damn well who I’m talking about!” I bark.
The sniper stills and his eyelids droop. Holes burn through his clothes from the scalding rocks, but he doesn’t try to shake them anymore.
I lean down, patting his face until his eyes roll and open slowly.
“John. Kinsley,” I grit out. “He was a soldier in this task force, killed in action six years ago.”
His head falls forward and he groans.
“I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about,” he labors. “I was contracted four years ago. If a contractor dies, it’s their own damn fault. You don’t leave Acacia. Acacia decides when they’re done with you. If he tried to get out because he was too much of a fucking pussy to handle a contract, then he deserved what he got.”
I scream and throw him back, more coals falling onto his charred skin.
“He was a good man!” I scream. “And you fucking murdered him for having morals!”
“There are no morals in real life! Get your head out of your ass.” His eyes lock on mine, but he doesn’t flinch when the cinders burn through his under armor. “You think you’re important? You’re just a stubborn bitch who doesn’t know when to lay down and fucking die.”
I fire again, and his other hand disintegrates into blood and bone.
“I was out!” I scream. “I was home and you brought me back to fucking kill me!”
The sniper falls back, screaming and clutching the bloody stump as blood spills out of it. His face is a grimace, and finally, that fucking smile is gone.
“Fuck,” he coughs, tiny splatters of blood and mucus staining his face. “That wasn’t my fault. I just follow orders. It’s not my fault you had a contract out on you.”
I don’t care anymore. Fuck the information. Fuck Alastor. Fuck Acacia.
“I was out!!!” I shoot out one of his shoulders. “I was free!”
The sniper doesn’t scream. He’s barely conscious now, slumped against the burning wood stove, even as the heat burns through his clothes. His head falls forward as he coughs again, blood pouring down his chin.
“Stop. Please,” he groans, tears stuck in his throat. “God, please, stop.”
I laugh hysterically. They’ve taken everything from me. Everything! My entire life has been a result because someone I didn’t even know has been trying to kill me for 27 years, and he has the audacity to beg for his life?
“I was out!!!” I shoot again and again, hitting his elbows, his shoulders, and I just scream until it’s all I can hear. Until all I’m seeing is red. Blood. Red.
I shoot again.
“I!”
Bang.
“WAS!”
Bang.
“OUT!!!”
I shoot again and again until his screams stop, until I can’t recognize his fucking face and when I run out of bullets, I lean over his body and slam the gun into his skull over and over again until nothing is left. There’s nothing, just a cloud of red where his body used to be—that same red that stains my vision. Alastor. Acacia. The Codex. They stole everything from me.
I don’t notice that the gun is gone until I’m pulled to my feet, and the gun is in Castor’s hands.
“Helena, stop! Stop!” Baron’s arms wrap around my waist mine to my hands to my side, while he whispers frantically in my ear. “It’s alright, doll. It’s alright. He’s dead.”
I’m heaving, my chest still tight with that weight that I can’t seem to lift. He’s dead, but not gone. It’s not enough. There’s still bits of him left—blood and bone and his stupid fucking clothes. I want it all blown to fucking bits. I want him gone. I want Acacia.
It’s only when I look up at them again that I finally catch the alarmed looks on their faces. Even Baron’s hold on me is hesitant, frightened like an innocent child.
He doesn’t hold me long, his arms loosening around mine only as I force my breathing to quieten.
“Jesus Christ.” Castor glances at the sniper, his deep brown eyes wide and alarmed. “What is wrong with you? You can’t get information like that.”
“You need to work through that anger,” Baron adds.
I throw my hand back, connecting with his chest.
“Fuck you! You did this to me!” I throw another punch, harder this time, but Baron doesn’t flinch even as it hits him square in the jaw.
“Really now?” His head turns down, regarding me with a cocked brow. “Because I seem to remember you joined Acacia of your own accord.”
“They were my friends!” My jaw tenses when I catch the wavering in my voice, the tightening of my throat. “I was in the military for three years. None of this happened until you all came.”
“You were groomed before we came,” Baron corrects. “I told you once before, doll, Bane used you. Acaia wanted you long before we entered the picture. You were a threat to them, not an asset.”
“I was innocent!”
“You were brainwashed.” Castor deadpans. “You believed what they wanted you to believe. Your career was fabricated to draw us out of hiding.” His voice lowers to a grumble, his eyes drawing to the ground. “As if we’d ever kill John’s kid.”
I blink. Was that why they didn’t kill me? Because of my dad? Because they had some soft spot for a friend they’d gotten killed six years ago?
Baron frowns, seeming to already understand before I can speak again.
“We never wanted you here to begin with,” he says. “At best, you’re a distraction. At worst, you’d get all of us killed.” His eyes look me up and down and his nose curls at the sight of me, like a disgusting odor he can’t seem to wash himself of. “We didn’t care about you. We just wanted Bane. It’s not our fault you lacked the common sense to stay the fuck away after we’d tried to keep you that way.”
My mouth clicks shut. What the hell does that mean?
“I did what I thought was right,” I bite back. “I was fine until you kidnapped me and held me hostage.”
“It kept you out of the way, didn’t it?”
I scoff. “I didn’t want your help!”
Baron steps closer, prompting me to back away so he can cage me in, but I don’t. Not this time. I turn up my chin at him, planting my feet in the ground until his broken armor brushes against my chest.
His eyes glance down my body, narrowing when I don’t back down. “Doll, you are a walking catastrophe. You didn’t want our help, but you needed it. Without us, you would’ve gotten yourself killed a long time ago. We’ve saved your ass a lot more than you deserved. I think it’s time you thank us for everything we’ve done for you.”
Castor is circling behind me, his arms brushing against my back, but I force my eyes to stay forward and not falter.
“And what should I do for everything you’ve done to me?”
Baron’s lip twitches, only barely covering the tight clench of his jaw. “I’m still waiting for a thank you.”
The urge is far too strong to rip out his knife and drive it into his face. If he wants me to say thank you, I’ll gladly oblige in my own way. Unfortunately, I’m still weak. The adrenaline from my rage is wearing me down to a place of near collapse.
I can’t win a fight between the both of them. I’m not even sure I can win a fight with one of them. So, I push past them, picking up the sniper’s rifle and heading towards the door.
Castor sidesteps in front of me, and his gangly body blocks the door. When I turn around, Baron is there, so close I can see the cold blue of his eyes beneath the black strands of hair skirting in front of his face.
“Move.”
Baron grins. “Make me.”
I growl in frustration, my hands balling into fists. “I won’t ask again.”
“You want to hurt us, doll?” Castor steps away from the door, and his body presses against mine, caging me between the two men. “Go ahead,” he taunts.
His voice chills me, a vibration that goes straight down through my legs. Damn them. They’re doing this intentionally.
Baron raises an arm, slinging it around Castor’s shoulder until my head is frozen in place. His finger tilts my chin up, his tips turning up in a grin, and then I snap.
I ram my hand into Baron’s chest, and he only barely moves, but long enough for me to wiggle free from the both of them. Castor blocks my second punch but I drive my elbow against his ribs and he stumbles with a soft grunt. He catches himself quicker than Baron does and his hands are on me again, forcing my arms in a tight lock behind my back.
“Not bad,” Castor utters. “You’re getting stronger, but you’re still slow. What’s the first rule of hand-to-hand combat?” He spins me around, throwing me against the door. “Don’t let a bigger opponent grab you.”
“I’ll make sure to remember that when I kick your ass next time,” I growl.
Baron groans in front of me, his hand clutched onto his side as he struggles to stand. His eyes lock onto mine, burning bright with venom as he strides closer.
“You know something, Helena? I think we were wrong about you.” He takes another step, standing so close that his steel toes brush against mine. “We didn’t need to break you because Bane already did that. He fucked you over years before we got our hands on you.”
The words strike anger inside me, along with the memories of my training that came with it. I never broke. ‘Die before you break’, that’s all I could tell myself. That was the only thing that got me through those days. I had nothing there—no human interaction, no prisoners, no light, no food, no water. The only thing I had to look forward to were the five men that visited my cell like clockwork.
It made me physically sick now. I’d taken my training in stride. It was my greatest achievement to be selected for the task force, to excel enough to earn the same title as my dad.
And it was all a fucking lie.
Baron takes my jaw tightly between his fingers, forcing me to look at him.
“You have the answers handed to you on a silver fucking platter and you’re running?”
“I’m not running,” I say, forcing my jaw from his grip. “I have my answers now. I don’t need you anymore.”
“And what makes you think we’ll let you leave?” Castor says from behind me.
“I’m not going to parade around with murderers.”
Baron’s eyes narrow. “Bane killed for fun. We kill because it’s necessary.”
I scoff.
“Everyone thinks their ends justify the means until they’re staring down the barrel of a gun. I don’t care about Bane’s syndicate. I dont give a fuck if they’re planning to nuke every last person on this earth. It doesn’t change what you did. Everything you’ve ever dealt out was pain and manipulation and you expect me to just act like that never fucking happened because you’re on his shitlist too?”
“No, doll,” Castor whispers. His hand moves off of my neck down to the white scar on my chest, tracing the fading lines with his fingers. “I expect you to use the lessons we gave you. Don’t lie. You know exactly who to trust, and it’s not them.”
“How many times were you blamed for mishaps during your deployment?” Baron asks. “How many times were you blamed for the bombing in Syria?”
“Because it was my fault,” I bark back. “I misaligned the coordinates on the Humvee.”
“You didn’t. Bane did.” Castor releases me, leaning against the door as I rub my sore wrists. “It wasn’t an accident, Helena. That was your contract.”
I stop.
That…wasn’t true. That wasn’t possible, right? I remember that day perfectly, even without the endless journaling. We’d run through the edges of Palmyra. I’d been in a rush to retrieve the HVT after we’d located him. I hadn’t given the humvee a proper inspection, and I led my team into a minefield. I was negligent. I didn’t double check it after Bane assigned me the vehicle—
No.
“That’s a lie.” I turn away from Castor, but Baron moves in closer. I move again, stepping over the broken pieces of furniture. “The bombing was my fault,” my voice cracks and I turn my head to hide the tears forming. “I killed them. It was my fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Baron says. “It was Acacia. You know that’s the truth.”
I can’t think. They’re both stalking towards me, repeating those same words to me like an echo in my head. I don’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. I’d known for so long that Alastor was trying to kill me. Maybe even Bane was trying to kill me too, but it had never occurred to me just how long they’ve both tried. All the nightmares I’d had, hearing the soldiers—or mercenaries—screaming for help, the blood and metal fragments in the sand. They’re right. It was all Acacia. And that fucking shatters me.
They’re circling me, and suddenly, I become all too aware of the fact that I am alone in the mountains, locked in a cabin with these two men. Two men who are just as angry like me and who look far too eager to punish me again.
I back away, nearly tripping on the dead body slumped against the woodstove. My hands flail, and they both smile, taking another step towards me.
“Stay back!” I cry.
Baron flashes a grin, baring his white teeth. “Open your eyes, Helena.” He takes a step forward. “You knew exactly what Bane was, and you defended him for it to protect yourself. You really think that we’re the terrorists here? We kill people who fucking deserve it. We don’t hurt innocent people, doll.”
“I was innocent!”
“Were you, now?” Castor taunts. “I’m sure we remember that you tried to kill us, not the other way around. We never hurt you.”
My hands ball into fists, but I force them to stay still. “Bullshit. What do you call this?” I gesture to the scar on my chest.
Castor takes another step with Baron, reaching out just close enough to hover over the raised white markings on my sternum.
“Ownership.” His eyes follow along the phantom traces on my chest, moving with each of my rapid breaths. “We didn’t hurt you, doll. We saved you.”
I slap his hand away. “You didn’t save me from anything!”
His hand darts out as I slap it again, grabbing me by my throat and pulling me close. “We saved you from yourself.”
My heart thrums against my chest as he pulls me closer. I can feel Baron’s stare, just as I can feel the outline of his cock pressing between my thighs, pulsing with a deep need to punish me again.
Castor’s free hand moves up to my cheek, brushing a stray hair from my face while his dark eyes follow the movement.
“You know the truth, Helena,” Castor whispers. “And I’m tired of trying to convince you.”
His eyes flick to my lips before meeting mine again. “You’re going to get yourself into trouble if you don’t listen.”
Castor’s hand flexes around my neck in warning while Baron’s hand travels along the small of my back. They’re so close I can feel the heat radiating from their skin. Every touch electrifies my body, their fingers like fire everywhere they go and—fuck I need them to stop tormenting me like this.
It takes everything in me to stop my eyes from rolling when their hands skate across my body. It doesn’t escape me that they’re doing this as a ploy to keep me from leaving. Even when I’m free, I’m still their prisoner. And they know how to keep me captive. If they just move lower…and lower…
My control is snapping and the second Baron’s hand finds my ass, I’m jolted back to the present. I drive my knee in between Castor’s legs and break free of his grip. Baron is already on me and I duck under him.
They don’t get to have control over me anymore. I’m in control, not them.
“Helena,” Baron warns, but I jump back and he trips over the dead body, crashing against the mirror and it shatters into pieces. The anger that’s been boiling inside me finally explodes, and I lunge at Baron, throwing my fist into his face.
“Still think I’m a cocksleeve?” I scream, punching him again. “Still think I’m fucking helpless?!”
I hit him again and again until my knuckles are bloody and bruised. They kept me for weeks. Months. They tortured me, brought Acacia into my life. They took everything from me. My life, my family, my friends. I don’t care if I escape. I don’t care if they kill me. They stole everything from me!
I hit him even as the tears burn in my eyes but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I just want someone to hurt for this. Someone that isn’t me.
Baron grabs my wrist when I go down to punch him again, ripping me off him. He steps away from the mirror, the glass dusting his clothes, but he’s hardly affected. Instead, he smiles.
“I never said you were helpless, doll.” He pulls my wrist tight, stopping me inches from his face while his eyes rake over my body. “You wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if you were helpless.”
Castor pulls me off Baron, dragging me backward as Baron picks up a jagged piece of the broken mirror. My heart races as he approaches, his eyes gleaming with sadistic excitement. He presses the glass to my neck, the sharp edge biting into my skin just enough to sting.
I tilt my head, pressing my neck into the glass.
“Do it,” I snarl.
Baron’s smile turns into a feral toothy grin. He drags the glass across my neck, just enough to draw blood. I wince from the sudden bite in my skin, the sudden movement causing the pain to intensify. He stops abruptly when I feel a warm bead of my blood trickle down the side of my neck, and the glass clatters to the ground a second later. He leans in, and I gasp when his tongue flattens against the curve of my neck, slowly collecting it into his mouth. His mouth clamps down over the cut, just above my pulse point, and he sucks the spot gently, drawing another soft gasp from my lips.
My hands curl into fists, but just as he has before, he draws out a cruel and unwanted pleasure as he hurts me. I try to force myself to stay quiet, to deny that it feels too fucking good, but fuck, my resolve is shit when they touch me.
He pulls away, his iced eyes burning through the black strands in front of them as he looks up at me. His tongue slides over his bottom lip, licking off the blood staining his lip.
“Let’s change the game,” he whispers. He moves his tongue along the curve of my ear, waiting until I shiver before he speaks again. “You can either accept that you were a contract and your task force was solely made as cannon fodder, or…” He nips the soft skin behind my ear, and I yelp. “We’ll teach you another lesson, and make you admit it anyway.”
I swallow down a moan, my cheeks burning red at the thought of receiving another ‘lesson’ from them. I lift my chin, forcing the anger to front above the pleasure.
“Big words coming from men who have to use force to get what they want,” I spit. “You’d never get anything from me willingly, so you have to hurt me to make me listen.”
Castor chuckles silently, the two of them exchanging a look. Something dark passes between them—a silent conversation that makes me regret even opening my mouth.
He lets go and I stumble back, only just catching myself before I fall against the broken mirror.
“Is that so?” Castor muses. His hand trails along the buckle of his belt, slowly unclasping it and sliding it off in one fluid movement. “Then let’s start another lesson.”
“Lesson number three.” Baron drags me out into the center of the living room, forcing me quickly to my knees. I bite back a groan at the jolt of pain firing up my thigh, and glare at them while they circle me.
“This lesson is about control,” Castor murmurs. He coils the belt around his hand, sliding the leather between his fingers while the gold buckle dangles like a pendulum in front of my face.
Baron moves behind me, and I tense when his hand ghosts across my nape.
“Your obsession with control and independence has nearly gotten you killed your entire life,” I try to turn until Castor cracks the belt in front of me, and my eyes snap forward. “You held onto your pride because you’re desperate for approval—from your parents, from Bane, from yourself. It’s brainwashed you.”
The belt cracks down on the wood again when I try to look away. I want to. I’d rather be whipped for looking away, than to deal with the humiliation. They’re wrong…except they’re not. And it pisses me off how they claim to know me so well when they don’t know a damn thing about me at all.
Their words are a wire wrapped around my throat, pulling tighter and digging the barbs into my skin every time I try to convince myself that they’re lying.
“You allowed a dead man to control you because he fed you codependency and called it freedom.” Castor steps closer until my nose brushes against the fabric of his black tactical pants. He tilts his chin just enough for his eyes to glance down at me.
“Freedom isn’t comfortable,” he says. “It’s painful. It hurts and it’s fucking lonely. Control isn’t the same thing as power, and letting go of it doesn’t make you weak.”
The belt touches the skin of my exposed shoulder, and I flinch involuntarily.
“Are you scared?” Castor asks.
I clench my jaw, forcing down the fear.
“No.”
The belt snaps against my skin and I cry out.
“Lesson one, doll.”
I swallow down the pain, throwing a glare up at him.
“You think hurting me will gain my honesty?” I hiss.
“Then say please.” Castor drags the tip of the belt along my neck, smiling when I tense from the way it slides around my neck. “Say please and it all stops.”
My jaw is sore from clenching the muscles so tightly, and yet, when they speak again, it only makes those muscles wind tighter. This is a fucking game to them, trying to force me to beg for them. That’s what they want. My submission—for me to take the last shreds of my old self that I’m clinging to and shatter it along the rest of me. They want me to flock to their feet and behave like a servant, to bend for them like a fucking dog. Like I did with Bane.
Well fuck them. I’m not a dog and I won’t bark for them just because they’ll whip me for it.
I glare up at him through the pain, and the corner of his mouth twitches.
Another crack of the belt, harder this time. My body jerks forward, the sting traveling up from my collarbone and following the belt’s movements along my neck.
Baron watches with a sick fascination, his eyes lighting up like fire each time I’m whipped for my silence. He takes the belt from Castor’s hands, bringing it down hard five times in quick succession, until a pained cry falls from my lips and echoes around the walls like a broken confession.
I fall to my hands and knees, taking in heaving breaths. Blood drips from my bottom lip, caught by the splintered wood beneath me.
A chuckle sounds from behind me and I feel my blood boil.
“She looks good on her knees,” Baron says with a sick grin.
They plant their feet on either side of me and Baron traces a hand up the curve of my jaw. “But she’d look better begging.”
I shake off his hand and spit in his direction between heavy pants.
“I don’t beg.”
His lip curls and he grabs my jaw.
“You will.” He pinches my cheeks until my mouth is forced open and repays my gesture. He spits in it. “I’ll make you beg for more than just mercy tonight.”
He rips open the fly of his jeans, quickly pulling out his cock and stroking it slowly, inches from my face. His eyes are turned down at me, watching me, daring me to react, to break his gaze and watch the movements of his hand I can so clearly see out of the corner of my eye.
I’m burning from the inside out, anger festering like a disease in me—a disease I was poisoned with the second I left Juneau. It’s anger, hatred, agony, desire. I hate them. I hate them because they’re fucking right, because they hurt me, because I let them, and because heat moving quickly from my chest and in between my legs just proves them right, and I really have no control at all.
Baron notices, of course, drawn to it like an animal and his kill.
“Fuck, I love that look,” he growls. “Want me to fuck your face, pretty whore?”
I say nothing, not that my lack of consent would matter to them. My jaw aches from the tension, but I refuse to give him a single word. My silence is my shield, my last defense.
“Say please, and it goes away.” He taunts. “Don’t you want me to stop? Don’t you want control?”
Fuck them. Both of them. All they’ve done is touch me without my consent, and now they’re using the one word I refuse to give them as an out.
I lost my sanity in those mines, and I’ve had no control over anything. If I can’t control anything, I can control this.
I open my mouth, my tongue slipping out in a show of defiance. If he thinks he can break me with this, he’s fucking wrong.
His eyes darken, and before I can react, he grabs my hair, yanking my head back, and shoves his cock into my mouth. He doesn’t stop until he’s brushing against my throat, and I gag when he pulls back and thrusts in again, harder.
“There you go,” he rasps, pleasure underneath the growl in his voice. “Choke on it, doll. Choke on it, you fucking whore.” His grip tightens on my hair and he bucks his hips, each time making my eyes water when I gag on him, and that same pain stoking a fire between my thighs.
I pull my head back, trying to force him to allow me to pace around him, but when I tilt my head back, his grip tightens and he shoves my head deep until my nose is pressed against his stomach and his cock cuts off my air.
“I don’t think so,” Baron snickers. You wanted this. You know exactly how to make it stop.” He pulls my head back, allowing me to get a single breath before he forces me back onto his cock, grinding his hips on my face.
My hands fly up to stop him, to pull back long enough so he doesn’t suffocate me on his cock, but the moment my hands reach up, they’re pulled back again, being secured tightly by Castor as he wraps his belt around them.
“You’re not listening, doll.” Castor loops the belt around my wrists, pulling it tight until the metal bites into my skin. “You can make it stop. All you have to do is say please.”
I strain against the belt, my muscles burning with the effort, but I can’t pull free. I can barely focus, the world narrowing to the choking, suffocating rhythm he forces on me.
“Such pretty fucking tears,” Baron grunts. “Are you going to cry for me? Are you going to beg me to stop?”
I can’t move. I can’t even fucking beg him with his cock preventing me from speaking. So, I’m forced to take in Baron’s sadistic punishment, waiting for the moment he comes down my throat again.
The thought has me pressing my thighs tightly together. I shouldn’t want that, it shouldn’t make my pussy throb at the thought of being forced to take both of them, but fuck, the harder he fucks my throat, the more I can feel myself slipping.
A movement draws my vision and through the blurs of tears I’m trying to fight, I find Castor leaning on the wall, his head tilted back in pleasure as he strokes his own cock to the sight of us both.
His eyes are glued to me, watching every twitch of my body, the way I gag around Baron’s cock, the tears slipping down my cheeks and the subtle shifts of my hips as I try to ease the pressure off of my legs that jolts my clit with each of his thrusts..
Baron notices, and he smiles when I try to look away, a red in my cheeks.
“Keep watching, doll,” he orders. “I want to see how pathetic you get when you can’t come.”
I moan when a thrust rocks my body back, forcing friction on my clit that has me tensing.
Baron’s breath hitches when I tense up, and he pulls away abruptly, his cock sliding from my lips and allowing me to suck in air. My throat burns, and my mind races, but before I can catch my breath, he throws me on my back, ripping my shirt from my body.
“Tell me to stop, Helena.” Baron rips my pants from my body and suddenly, I’m completely bare and Baron is on me, his hand already snapping between mine, searching for my throbbing clit while Castor leans above me, cupping each of my breasts.
My breath catches when they work my body against me in tandem, the pleasure from my clit and nipples feeding back to each other in an endless loop, even as I fight the desperate desire to give them the control they want.
Castor’s hand caresses my cheek, the silver ring on his hand glinting in the light. “Use your words, baby,” he whispers, squeezing my nipple between his fingers. “Beg for it.”
A low moan escapes me, and I clench my fists, biting back the frustration and anger. “Stop,” I grunt, fighting the pleasure creeping through me, twisting with the pain.
Baron chuckles. “What’s the magic word?”
Tears sparkle in my eyes and my legs tremble from the restraint. I’m faltering, cracking into pieces the longer the force my body closer to that edge, and I know once I get it, I’ll lose the last ounce of my control.
Finally, the word slips out, broken and small. “Please.”
He smirks, pulling back just enough to let me breathe. “Look at that, Castor,” he says, glancing over my shoulder. “I think she’s finally starting to learn.”
Castor stands, pulling me up by my arms until I’m resting on my knees again. My breaths are heavy and the pleasure is slowly receding, subsiding only to a dull ache that reminds me it’s there.
“I did what you asked,” I spit through gritted teeth. “Now untie me.”
Baron chuckles and slowly shakes his head. “We said ‘please’ makes it stop. I never said anything about untying you.” His hand grips the base of his cock, his thumb spreading precum along the tip. “Guess you’ll have to watch.”
Castor stands by him, stroking his cock lazily. They both watch me, putting on a show of their exaggerated movements, one tilting their head back in a moan while the other taunts me when I squirm on my legs. The movement adds more friction to my clit, enough to make me bite back a moan and grow frustrated.
I’d make myself come to piss them off and torture them by watching me, but the belt has my hands bound tight and even when I try to release the tension between my legs, my own efforts only make them laugh.
“You piece of shit,” I huff, tugging helplessly at the belt. “That’s not fair you can’t just–”
“I can, and I did,” Castor says.
Baron groans, tilting his head back as his movements slow. “We never said we were fair, doll. When will you learn that we always get what we want?”
Castor hums, taking a step towards me as his eyes rake over my body. “Fuck, the things I could do to that pretty ass of yours.”
“And those tits too.” Baron follows Castor, stepping so close that another bead of precrum almost falls on me when he grips himself harder. “I think I might come on her like this.” He angles himself lower, alternating between my face and breasts, like he’s choosing between them.
Castor moans in agreement, and when I try to shut my eyes and block it out, a hand pats my cheek, forcing them open again.
“Eyes on me,” Baron orders.
The dull throb turns into an agonizing ache. Every movement stirs the desperation for relief. I don’t even care that they laugh at me when I find myself grinding against my leg. They can’t tell me what to do, and if they’re going to torment me, I’ll make them watch me come and know that they couldn’t.
“You’re looking a little needy,” Castor says, his head cocked. “I thought you wanted us to stop.”
“Fuck you,” I spit. “I don’t need your help.”
“Are you sure? I’d be happy to lend a hand.” Castor pinches my nipples hard, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through me. “But you’ll need to ask for it.”
I glare at him, my teeth gritted. “No,” I growl. “I’m not going to entertain your sadism anymore.”
Baron’s fingers find my other nipple, pinching harder this time. “Then I guess you’ll have to sit and watch. You know you can’t make yourself come like that.” His thumb brushes against the tip of his cock and he smears precum on my lips.
My tongue slides over my lips before I can stop it, and the bitter taste only worsens the feeling. I try deliberately, grinding hard against my leg but it’s not enough, not at this angle, and the cocky bastard knows that. Fuck them for acting like they’re the only ones that can make me come. I did just fine without them.
But the longer I try to force that orgasm on me, the further away it seems. It’s fucking torture. I need more. I need a fucking hand free so I can bury it between my legs, and maybe give them the middle finger before I slip it inside me.
God, I can’t. Why can’t I fucking come? This is torture.
“You’re being stubborn again, doll,” Baron taunts. “We can help, but you need to give up control.”
Do you want us to touch you?” Castor whispers before sucking my nipple into his mouth.
I gasp, the pleasure going straight to my core, but it’s not enough. Fuck, it’s not enough.
“Do you want us to make you come?” He hums.
I grit my teeth, fighting the moan building in my throat, but I nod anyway. It’s unbearable, and I can’t fucking think. I need something. Anything.
“Use your words, baby,” Castor taunts, his tongue flattening against my hardened nipples with a smile on his face. “I’m not very good with body language. I’d hate to touch you without your consent.”
That motherfucker.
“Yes,” I force out, my voice barely kept back.
“Then ask us,” Castor says simply.
“You fucking asshole!”
“Better hurry. I can edge myself for a while, but Baron can’t.”
My face heats up in a mix of anger and humiliation, and I finally break. “Make me come,” I whisper.
His eyes darken and a small smile ghosts his lip. “Ask.”
I close my eyes and force down the image of what I look like begging murderers to touch me. “Will you make me come?” I let out a breath and lift my eyes to meet his. “Please?”
Castor leans down, caressing my face. “Such a good girl.” He pushes his cock into my mouth, starting slow, savoring the moment.
I push back only for a moment as I struggle to take him in. He’s nothing like Baron. I hate deep throating but at least I could handle Baron. Castor has my jaw wrenched open and my lips spread as wide as they can go just to fit him in my mouth, but he glides in, hardly affected until I find myself gagging around him.
“Breathe through your nose, baby, like I showed you.” He looks down at me through half-lidded eyes, his thumb giving my cheek an encouraging stroke.
I moan in discomfort when he forces the rest of his cock, and I gag again, before shutting my eyes and forcing myself to relax around him.
He pulls back just enough to allow me to suck in air before he pushes back in, stroking himself inside my throat in a lazy rhythm.
I force my throat to relax and the tension in my shoulders to ease and I finally find myself able to breathe, just enough that I don’t suffocate around him as his pace speeds up.
Baron steps up beside him, eyes locked on me while his movements around his cock become erratic.
I moan around Castor’s cock, trying to grind myself on my leg.
“Be patient, baby,” Castor tsks, nodding to Baron as his hand finds my clit. “I want this lesson to last.”
The relief is immediate, and I moan louder, my body lifting off my legs to seek out his touch.
But Baron isn’t satisfied and he pulls away just as I find that edge.
“Don’t get comfortable.” He angles his cock, slapping my cheek with the tip. “You have to take care of us both first.”
Castor pulls out abruptly and they wait, the haze of pleasure receding steadily. Whatever control I have is gone. I don’t care. I just want to come.
I switch to Baron, taking him into my mouth without a fight, running my tongue along the underside of his shaft and take him in deep. His head tilts back in a moan and his hands find their way to my hair, but he doesn’t force me this time. He shudders as I move at my own pace, bobbing my head on his cock before moving to Castor and follow the same, alternating just as I feel them tense up.
They’re both wound tight as I move between them, a cruel satisfaction sitting tight in my chest. They’re helpless to me, frustrated and equally turned on as I force them closer and then yank them from it—just like they did to me—and they’re letting me. They let me move between them and repay that same sadism they’ve given me. Fuck, I think they even enjoy it.
Baron’s voice cuts through suddenly when I move back to his cock, and his grip tightens, ripping my control from me.
“Fuck, just like that,” Baron whimpers. His grip tightens, ripping away my control and he shoves his cock deep into my throat, his abdomen firm against my nose. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
I try to move back for a moment, denying him for only a second, but he grabs my head, forcing me to stay still. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growls, thrust back hard into my throat. “I want you to sit there with my cock in your throat and take it. I want you to take every last drop of my cum. I want—fuck, Helena, I want you.” His voice catches as he thrusts one more time, and then he’s coming hard, thick ropes shot down my throat without pulling back. A whimper falls from his lips and his brows push together in desperation as he grinds against my face, riding it until I’m forced to swallow it down.
Baron pulls out, panting and delirious. “Fuck.”
Before I can catch my breath, Castor yanks me up, and throws me over the broken mirror.
I yelp as the jagged edges cut into my skin but Castor is back on me, his cock pressing insistently at my entrance.
“My turn,” he whispers, and then he’s inside me, fucking me hard.
I cry out from the intrusion, but he doesn’t stop this time to let me adjust. Castor grips my hips, forcing me back hard with each thrust.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Goddammit, this pussy, already dripping for me.”
Baron steps beside the mirror, watching with a wide grin as my lips part in a silent moan as he thrusts me against the mirror, harder and harder. “Fuck her slower, Castor,” he muses. “I don’t think she’s learned yet.”
Castor slows but doesn’t stop, angling his hips upward to drag out the pleasure, sending me barreling towards the edge even as his hard thrusts grind painfully against my cervix.
“What do you think, doll?” he whispers in my ear, pulling me back in another hard thrust. “Have you learned your lesson?”
I don’t hear him for a minute, his words are muddled in a fog of pleasure that I’m desperately trying to build, but he slips a hand around my throat, yanking my head back. “Answer me or I’ll stop.”
“Yes,” I moan desperately. “I-I learned.”
Baron snickers as my head falls against Castor’s shoulder, but I can’t fight the pleasure anymore. I don’t want to. God, it’s too good. I don’t care how Baron laughs or the mocking tone in Castor’s voice. If this is the worst they can do to me, they can have me.
“Look at her,” Baron snickers. “A little dick and she’s begging and whining like a little bitch.”
“Well then?” Castor grinds against me, and his lips travel down the curve of my ear. “What did you learn?”
“I learned…” I gasp, my words dissolving into a moan. “I’m yours…”
Baron steps closer, holding a shard of glass in his hand. “So close, doll, but it’s nice to hear those words from your lips.” He presses the glass against the sensitive skin of my neck, the cold edge biting into my pulse point. “Try again.”
I cry out, my mind blank from the pleasure. Castor thrusts into me again, and suddenly, I’d forgotten his question at all. “I-I don’t know!” I gasp, my back arching into him. “Fuck, Castor, more. I need more.”
Castor slams into me hard once, making me scream. “Control, Helena,” he growls. “Admit it.”
I moan, my hands straining against the belt. “Y-you,” I breathe. “You’re in control.”
“Wrong answer,” Baron taunts. He drags the glass lower and the sharp edge slices against my skin, leaving a thin red line behind. “Who’s in control?”
Fuck, he can’t seriously be expecting an answer like this. I wouldn’t even know my own name if they hadn’t said it.
I shiver when Baron draws another line on my skin, the sting muddled by the streams of blood dripping down onto my collarbone.
Control. Who’s in control?
“Bane,” I mumble.
Castor moves faster in praise, angling his cock to grind against me.
“Very good,” he whispers. “Why?”
“Because…because I’m a target. He manipulated me.” The words tumble out as a moan and each one is rewarded with another heavy thrust that makes me cry out the closer I get to that edge. “More…”
Castor’s grip tightens. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, moving faster. “Are you going to let him keep controlling you?”
I shake my head, and he switches the angle suddenly, forcing a sharp pain through me.
“No,” I moan.
“Why?”
“Because…fuck!” I pant, desperately trying to catch my words in the short breaths. “Because he’s wrong. He’s a murderer. He deserves to die.”
“Good.” Baron drags the glass across my breasts. “Say it again.”
“He deserves to die,” I bite out
“Again,” he commands, pressing the glass harder.
“He deserves to die.”
“Again!”
“He deserves to die!”
Castor finally relents, his thrusts quick and pushing me closer to that edge.
Baron reaches between my legs and I cry out when his fingers drift over my clit. “Are you going to listen now?”
“Yes!”
“Are you going to stop with this fucking attitude?”
“Yes, fuck!” I sob, tossing my head back. “Please, Baron! Make me come.”
“You know why don’t you?” He presses the glass against my neck, digging it into my skin. “Because you were a little doll when we found you. You were fucking broken, and we put you back together. Us! Not Bane. You’re alive because we said so, you’re protected from them because we said so, and you’re going to come on his cock because I fucking said so!”
Another sob breaks loose and I nod helplessly, despite his mocking laugh.
“Is that what you want, pathetic doll? You want to come? You want Castor to come inside your cunt?”
“Yes!” I arch into his hand and the stimulation almost sends me over. “Yes, please. Come in me. Make me come!”
“That’s my girl, begging for my cum like a good girl.” Castor wraps a hand around my throat and Baron finally paces his fingers on my clit, winding that coil tighter and tighter.
“I’m going to come in you,” Castor groans. “I’m going to come in your pussy and you’re going to come on my cock when I do.”
It finally snaps and when Baron rubs my clit again, I come with a scream as every muscle in my winds tight.
“Fuck, baby, come on my cock—” Castor chokes out, his hand slamming against the wall beside me, bracing himself as hips jerk forward, and I feel his cum pulse inside me. “Take my cum, baby,” he grunts. “Take all of it.”
He groans, grinding hard against my cervix as another follows, then another spilling inside me until he weakens and stills with a heavy sigh.
Tiny pinpricks of pain sting at my neck when Baron removes the tiny shards of glass. I don’t flinch or even open my eyes. The pain is soothing in its own way, and I find myself drifting into a sleep while Castor takes me into his arms.
Their voices are distant, echoes in my mind as I’m set on the couch and the last thing I hear is Castor’s voice in my head, singing like a lullaby.
“Sleep tight, doll. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
Table of Contents
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- Page 34 (Reading here)
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