Page 33 of The Boy I Loved (Eternal Hell #1)
A ragged breath left me as I lowered my bags to the floor near the door, sweeping my gaze over the untouched interior. It was nothing special—a full-sized bed with dark blue comforter, thin black curtains covering a vertical window, and clothes draped over a few of the furnishings.
I didn’t bother closing the door. Instead, I slipped back out into the hallway and tugged it shut behind me. My shoulders were heavy with the weight of the world pressing down on me, but I forced myself forward despite it.
Clay’s office wasn’t far from here. It was positioned on the other side of the common area, between wings three and four .
When I reached my destination, I tapped my knuckles against the door and waited with the patience of a madman. My fingers twitched at my sides, my toes wiggling within the confines of my sneakers.
Finally, the door clicked open, and I didn’t wait any longer. I shoved it the rest of the way open. Clay looked at me with raised eyebrows as I shoved past him. He closed the door behind me, and slowly made his way back to his mahogany desk that took up a good portion of the small room.
“You took your time getting here,” he pointed out, lowering himself into the leather chair.
“I took a shower,” I admitted.
Clay motioned for me to sit in one of the two chairs adjacent to him, so I did, situating myself in the one on the right of the room.
As usual, there was a glass of whiskey resting on the desk beside him.
His thick fingers slid together on the surface of the wood as he slightly scrutinized me through his dark, gray eyes—eyes he shared with my father and with me.
Maybe that was why I’d trusted him so easily.
Like Mason, Clay had a charming charisma to him, too.
He knew how to turn it off and on within the blink of an eye.
“Why the sudden change of plans?” I asked, refusing to wait around for him to tell me of his own volition. If he had it his way, he’d keep me in the dark and I’d run around following him blindly, fulfilling his every wish without any knowledge as to why.
He shook his head, tsking in a mocking gesture. He was upset with me, but I had yet to find out why. “So impatient,” he reprimanded. “Just like your mother.”
My hackles rose, a fire sprouting deep within my abdomen. “My mother isn’t part of this,” I said through gritted teeth. “Do not bring her up again.”
Clay’s lips twitched in amusement. “So emotional, too. That’ll be your downfall, Boy.” He reached for his glass and took a long, slow sip. The same way he did anytime he wanted to prolong a conversation. He wasn’t Clayton Steel without the theatrics.
When he sat his drink down again, he leaned back in the chair supporting his weight. “I was in love once,” he admitted with a soft chuckle, his eyes growing distant as he reflected. “You never met your aunt, but you had one.”
I wasn’t in the mood for another one of his substance-induced stories.
I was tired. Most people had loved in their lifetime, but that didn’t make him special.
That was what Clay had told Anya. She wasn’t special because she had a family.
He still forced her to come here, still forced me to rape her, and then killed her when it was all said and done.
“Her name was Elizabeth. My, she was beautiful. Innocent, too,” he continued with a fond smile.
“What happened to her?” I asked, only slightly intrigued.
I didn’t know much about my uncle, and under different circumstances, I might have been more eager to learn more of his upbringing—to know why he was the way he was—but my vision was fuzzy, fading in and out as exhaustion threatened to drown me.
“We were arranged to be married when she fell pregnant,” he explained, avoiding my question. “Back then, a pregnant woman who wasn’t wed was considered taboo. So, we got married within weeks of learning about the pregnancy.”
My eyebrows dipped in confusion. “So … I have a cousin?” I asked.
“Not exactly. Things between Liz and I were fine for a while. We were excited to bring our child into the world and begin our life together. We even started picking out names—Marcy, if it was a girl, and Dustin, if it was a boy.” He blew out a breath and reached for his whiskey again.
This time, his hand trembled around the glass.
“She ended up miscarrying. We were both devastated. I found solace in partying, drinking, doing drugs. Hell, I was doing anything that helped take the pain away, even if it was only for a little while. ”
That sounded oddly familiar, and I hated that we could relate in any way, shape, or form. Clay was the kind of man that nightmares were made of.
“A man found me. He welcomed me with open arms and opened a new door of endless possibilities. He taught me everything I know now. He is why—” He spread his arms wide, motioning around the small office. “This place exists.”
He said it with so much pride and honor that it made my stomach twist with disgust. How could he possibly think a place like this was made of anything good?
He was hurting people—stripping them away from their homes and families, forcing them to do things they didn’t want to do, and even going as far as killing them when they didn’t act the way he wanted them to.
“In this line of work, you have to show your complete and utter loyalty. The price of mine was Elizabeth,” he hedged. “I took her to the compound and left her there. She was later sold to a wealthy man and committed suicide by jumping off the terrace.”
My breathing had grown uneven, and I couldn’t tell if that was the result of his story or if it was simply my lack of sleep. “Why are you telling me this?” I muttered under my breath.
“Because, Dominic. You haven’t paid your dues. I promised that Alice would remain untouched, and I’m not anything if not a man of my word. To cut this little conversation short, let me be frank.”
My pulse roared through my ears, and my heart kicked into overdrive. I didn’t know what he was going to say next, but something told me it wasn’t good. Sacrifices or prices were never good, not when they came from Clay.
“It wasn’t Tory Briggs we took,” he said at last. “It was Hazel Montgomery.”