Page 40 of The Boy I Loved (Eternal Hell #1)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DOMINIC

Sleep didn’t come easily last night. All I could think about was Hazel, forced into that disgusting cell.

She was probably cold, hungry, and lonely.

I was too much of a coward to see her, so I’d intentionally steered clear.

But that wasn’t an option today. Clay wanted me to help with their training after lunch.

It was intentional—he wanted her to see me.

He wanted her to hate me and acknowledge how much of a monster I truly was.

After showering, I threw on the usual black T-shirt and jeans we normally wore and headed for the elevator, tuning out the stupid music as I descended.

When it opened, I made my way down the hall, not bothering to look at any of the girls in the cafeteria as they ate. I didn’t want to risk seeing her again, even though it was inevitable eventually.

Vincent and Tristan were in the room when I arrived, both going over the names on the list. There was one other dipshit here too, but I couldn’t remember his name for shit.

Tristan glanced up when he spotted me, a smile curling around the edges of his mouth. “Hey. We were just talking about what we should have the girls do today. ”

“Blowjobs are out of the question.” Vincent rolled his eyes. “Apparently Mason had them doing that this morning.”

My knees buckled; agony laced with anger as it crawled up my spine.

Mason wouldn’t pass up an opportunity like that.

He would have been the one shoving his cock down her throat, and he would have degraded her while doing it—just like Tristan.

My fingers curled into the palms of my hands as I made my way toward them.

“We could just teach them,” I suggested, attempting to keep the rage from seeping into my tone. “Verbally.”

Tristan snorted and shook his head. “Where the hell is the fun in that? This isn’t Sex-Ed.”

Right. It was only fun if the girls were getting fucked against their will and bawling their eyes out by the end of it. I’d almost forgotten. Even my thoughts were sarcastic, which told me I probably shouldn’t even be doing this.

Vincent huffed a laugh, agreeing with him, which didn’t surprise me in the slightest.

“Whatever. It was just an idea. We don’t want to wear them down too badly. Most of them just got fucked right before lunch.”

“He has a point,” no-named guy said. “First blowjobs, then sex, and now … what?”

Vincent snapped his gaze over to the newbie, rolling his pierced lip between his teeth. “Who the fuck are you again?” he demanded.

Newbie shifted uncomfortably under the weight of everyone’s gaze, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Azrael,” he answered. “We’ve met before.”

I knew he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place when or how. It wasn’t important. We needed to get this shit figured out before their lunch period ended.

Tristan seemed to be on the same page because he waved the clipboard in the air, trying to get everyone’s attention. “No blowjobs, no sex,” he repeated. “What else?”

I racked my brain, trying to think something up that wouldn’t torture me or the women we were doing it on.

Tristan was in charge here. I might have had seniority due to being Clay’s descendant, but Tristan was the favorite, even if it hadn’t been explicitly stated.

That meant he’d be running the session, and he’d get to choose what girl went with who.

I knew who he’d choose. The new girl, just like he always did.

Hazel.

I tried not to let it bother me, but it did. I knew she’d endure much worse than whatever we could do to her during training sessions, but it didn’t offer me any relief.

“Dom might be right then,” Vincent said after a few seconds of thinking it through. “I’m not going down on any of these sluts, so that’s out of the equation.”

“We could make them fuck each other,” Tristan suggested. “Some scissor action.” He wiggled his eyebrows, sliding his fingers in and out of each other like a pair of scissors before nudging me.

“How is that going to teach them how to serve?” Azrael asked, throwing his arms out in exasperation.

I snorted and shook my head. It wasn’t. But that wasn’t the entire point of these sessions either.

Plus, it could come in handy eventually.

These sessions were meant to break down their walls, teach them the ins and outs of sex so they could be used in illegal porn videos, whore houses, and other things Clay deemed necessary.

If they couldn’t fuck, they were worthless—according to my dear old uncle.

“Porn,” Vincent answered, following my train of thought. “What guy doesn’t like to see girls get fucked?”

I didn’t like this one bit, but it was better than the alternative. “Fine.” I sighed. “We’ll have them screw one another.”

Clay would probably get a kick out of it, too.

We competed against one another in these sessions.

For example, our class competed against Mason’s class, and the evening class competed against both of us.

It was something new they started doing, so I wasn’t sure what the prize was. If I had to guess, it was diabolical.

I ran a hand through my dark hair and headed over to the sofa. I was about to lower myself onto it when I spotted a wet spot on the leather.

“Fucking Christ.” I growled. “Get me a disinfectant.”

Azrael strolled over moments later with a container of Clorox wipes.

I took the tub, popped the lid, and pulled out three.

You could never be too safe in a place like this.

I swiped them over the spot and around the edge of the couch, just in case, before pushing the container into Azrael’s chest. Locating the trashcan on the other side of the room, I discarded the dirty wipes and moved back to the couch, sinking down on it.

Who would just leave bodily fluids?—

My thoughts cut off, my mind whirling with other scenarios. Mason was the only one who did that shit. The sick fuck thought it was funny—some kind of joke.

“Who was Mason paired with today?” I asked, dragging my attention to the two boys who still hadn’t moved from their spot.

Tristan frowned, lifting the paper to check this morning’s sheet. His gaze skimmed over the paper before he released it again and offered me his gaze. “Hazel Montgomery. Why?”

I’d suspected as much. But those weren’t his fluids on the couch. For one, he cleaned up after himself. Just not the girls. And for two, it wasn’t nearly as thick and white. If they were just doing blowjobs, why the hell were her fluids smeared all over the goddamn furniture?

My fingers curled into my palms, my breathing growing more unsteady the more I thought about it. I was always bitching him out about the messes he left, and I had a feeling that this one was intentional.

He touched her.

Did he fuck her ?

Did he make her cry and then punish her for it?

I had to get her out of here, but it was impossible.

Clay had the place locked up tight and kept surveillance on at all times.

The only place that didn’t have cameras was the basement, which was why Tristan pulled all the bullshit he did while in there.

The only way in and out of the basement was through the single door that led to it, and the entire first floor had cameras and guards patrolling at all hours of the night.

Maybe if I begged Clay … Maybe if I told him I’d do anything he wanted me to do, anything at all, that he’d spare her. I doubted it. He’d probably worry about her snitching on him, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

The door swung open, and girls started trickling in, filling the seats like the good little servants they were.

I felt her before I saw her. She was dressed in a black tank top today with matching lace panties.

She was breathtaking. She’d only been here for a couple of days, and already, her waves were beginning to intertwine, creating a series of tangles.

Her tan skin was already losing its glow and I fucking hated it.

She dropped down into the seat near the back, positioning herself beside Stacy. Lauren sat across from them, but none of them even looked at one another.

It was odd seeing her with Stacy and Lauren, but I understood it. They were connected through their shared trauma and had grown up in the same place. They might have hated each other out there, but in here, life was different—none of that mattered anymore. I understood it more than I wished I did.

Tristan and Vincent took the spots on either side of me, leaving Azrael to sit at the far end.

My foot tapped against the floor nervously, guilt coiling within the depths of my stomach. I wished I could just talk to her, explain myself, tell her how I had no other option. Maybe she’d understand. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t .

Tristan stared at the girls for a long while before addressing them, letting the anticipation build and build.

“We’re going to do something different today,” he announced proudly, like having them screw one another was a genius thought.

It wasn’t. “You’ll be paired up into twos today, and you’ll be fucking one another. ”

The room fell deathly silent, some of the girls even paling. Others seemed relieved that they’d have to deal with one another rather than one of us. I didn’t blame them.

“When I call your name, head to the bed. We will be rotating,” he explained.

He glanced down at the clipboard, rolling his lip between his teeth in contemplation.

“Harley and Callie B, you’ll be on the left bed.

Veronica and Lauren, you’ll be on the center bed.

Dianne and Cori, you’ll be on the right. ”