Page 59 of The Boy I Loved (Eternal Hell #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

DOMINIC

The only time I left my room was when I needed to eat, engage in training, or for guard duty.

My emotions were a jumbled mess and had been since I walked in on Tristan and Hazel.

She couldn’t truly be stupid enough to think he’d ever care for her, right?

He didn’t care about anything or anyone, and he’d never care for a woman.

He hated women as much—if not more—than Mason did.

“Don’t stop,” she’d said. She begged her rapist to keep fucking her.

What the actual fuck?

I suppose it wasn’t that out of the ordinary.

Hazel had been through a lot in such a short period of time.

She was ripped from her family, kidnapped, thrown into captivity, raped, and who knew what else?

I might not have understood how she could find pleasure in being assaulted, but she wasn’t the first. Tristan made most of them feel good.

However, I’d never heard anyone beg him to keep going.

A weight settled over my chest, pushing me down into the mattress.

Hazel had always been a smart girl, but she was also na?ve.

Tristan would take advantage of that if she wasn’t careful.

He did it with Nia, who was equally na?ve.

She believed Tristan cared for her. It wasn’t until Emerson came along a few months later that he started mistreating Nia.

He intended to kill her, only to find out she was pregnant.

So, he assaulted her throughout her pregnancy but was gentler with her as not to harm the growing fetus.

As soon as she gave birth to their son, he took the baby from her, had me rape her, and then killed her less than a week later.

That was what he did. When Hazel arrived and he developed an interest in her, he killed Emerson over the smallest thing. When someone else piqued his interest, he’d turn on Hazel just like he always did, and she’d die, too.

The thought had my throat constricting. I had to get her out of here somehow—even if it killed me.

Adrian’s head bobbed up and down, the squelching sound of her mouth suctioning around Clay’s cock. He fisted her hair, his jaw thrumming with tension, but he didn’t release a sound. Clay was the kind of guy who didn’t want the girls to know how much he was enjoying them, so he kept silent.

Tristan sat beside me in one of the two chairs, a bored look crossing his features. Behind us were Nicholas, Mason, and Vincent. We’d been called here for a small meeting, but I had no idea why.

The girl continued to suck him off until his legs began to tremble, the only sign that he was enjoying what she was doing. After a few more pumps of her mouth, he was shoving her down on his cock and spilling down her throat with a ragged exhale .

At last, he cleared his throat. “You’re free to leave,” he told her coldly, reaching down and tugging up his jeans and boxers.

Adrian scrambled to her feet, her cheeks flushing pink with shame as she scurried for the door and let herself out.

Clay eased back in his chair, sweeping a hand through his silver-streaked black hair.

“I had a meeting a few days ago with Tristan, Mason, and a few potential buyers,” he explained at last. “One of them is interested in Harley. Another is interested in Magnolia. The rest want to test the girls out before they make a decision.”

“That’s to be expected,” I acknowledged.

Tristan nodded in agreement beside me. “I have a feeling that’s not the only reason you called us here.” He arched a quizzical eyebrow.

“No.” Clay sighed. “It’s not. Training the girls is taking too long. We need to start setting all of the girls up for work, regardless of whether they’ve finished their sessions or not.”

My muscles strained with tension as my mind flashed to Hazel. She couldn’t catch a goddamn break.

Tristan straightened in his seat, his eyebrows drawing together in silent contemplation. “Is that a good idea?” He wondered.

“Yeah,” Vincent added. “We can’t send amateurs out to the clubs. That’s a good way for us to get busted.”

Clay nodded thoughtfully. “I’m aware. The new girls will just have to do porn. Once they’ve completed the rest of their training, we’ll move them into the clubs and brothels.”

For some reason, a reason I couldn’t even begin to comprehend, my panicked gaze sought out Tristan’s.

He was looking at me with the same frustrated glare that I was sure reflected in my own.

I might not have cared for him, or wanted him around Hazel, but for now …

we were on the same team—we didn’t want anyone else having her either.

“Hazel Montgomery is mine,” Tristan said bluntly, following my same line of thought .

Clay released an exasperated huff. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he chided.

“She’s just another slut. Her only purpose is the cunt between her legs and what good is she if she can’t bring me any money?

” His gray eyes, so similar to my own, hardened.

“I had her snatched because she’s a breath of fresh air.

She’s innocent and na?ve with the girl-next-door vibe that a lot of the men will pay good money for. ”

The arm rests of Tristan’s chair creaked violently as he gripped them, leaning forward with an equally sinister look etched into his features. “You knew her personally, didn’t you?” he accused, searching my uncle’s face for any sign of deception.

“Of course I did.” He scoffed. “She’s been friends with Dom since they were children.”

I thought Tristan already knew that, but clearly, he’d been missing most of the details regarding my history with Hazel.

“Yep,” Vincent confirmed, placing his hands on the back of my chair and leaning forward. “Dom popped that cherry, too. Didn’t you?” I could hear the excited amusement in his tone, and it only made me grit my teeth.

Tristan’s usual demeanor had slipped, replaced with a surprising softness I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen on him before. Maybe it was merely a figment of my imagination, but he looked almost … sympathetic.

“They grew up together,” Mason chimed in. “Their dads worked with each other.” There was shuffling behind me and before I knew it, Mason was strolling toward us with his phone in hand. Once he found what he was looking for, he offered it to Tristan.

“What is that?” I demanded, straining to get a look.

An image was displayed on the screen, one of me and Hazel when we were only eleven years old.

We were at the pizzeria, smiling like idiots who didn’t have a care in the world.

Tristan’s throat bobbed as he slid to the next image.

This one was of us on a camping trip. She was dressed in a modest one-piece bathing suit, my arm slung around her as I smirked at the camera.

My chest felt like it was seconds from combusting, the agony searing through me so prominently it physically hurt.

Those were simple times, times when we didn’t have the entire world on our shoulders. Mason must have gotten these photos from either her phone or her house. Hazel was always sentimental like that.

I slumped back in my seat, heat spreading through my eyes as I diverted them.

When Tristan was done looking, he grunted. I didn’t miss the look of confusion crossing his features though. He knew the two of us shared something. Maybe he didn’t realize how deeply it went.

“That was then,” Clay said, shooting Mason a pointed look. “That was back when Dominic was weak. He knows better now, though. Don’t you?” His gaze shifted to me with expectancy.

“Yes,” I gritted out, attempting to keep the emotion from my tone, so he couldn’t see that I was only saying that to appease him.

He searched my stoic expression for a few moments before nodding.

“I’ve trained you well. It’s another reason I needed Hazel here.

She was keeping you from becoming the man you were always destined to be.

She was holding you back.” He took a long drink of his whiskey, hissing through the slight burn it left.

“Capturing her had been premeditated. I’ve been planning it since last year.

That’s why I sent Rodney to your school to befriend her. ”

I wasn’t sure I could hate someone more than I hated Clay right now. He was fucking twisted and evil. Far more than any of us, maybe even more so than Tristan.

“She wasn’t holding me back,” I snarled, unable to help myself.

Hazel was a lot of things—the bane of my existence, the love of my life, my best friend, my guilty pleasure, and even an annoying leech at times.

But she was never my weakness. If it weren’t for her, I wasn’t sure how far down the rabbit hole I would have fallen.

The mere thought of her kept me together at times, especially when Clay first roped me into his world.

“Agree to disagree.” He shrugged. “It’s not like it matters anymore. She’s here, and since the two of you had something to say about it, she’ll be the first one on the camera.”

Acid burned the back of my throat, anger punching through me. I had a feeling he was doing this more to spite me than Tristan, but who knew with him? All I knew was that I wanted him dead.

Tristan shoved himself to his feet, a snarl curling his upper lip. “You could have any other girl doing your dirty work,” he accused, anger radiating from him.

Clay waved a dismissive hand in his direction, but there was a slight twitch of his lips that told me he was enjoying this. “Careful, Tristan. Your heart is showing.”

“What heart?” He scowled. The muscle along the edge of his jaw thrummed violently.

Vincent snorted. “He’s just mad you’re trying to take away his favorite toy. With Emerson and Nia indisposed, he’s going to be really bored if Hazel is suddenly too busy or sore for him.”

Clay rolled his eyes. “Since when does it matter if they’re too sore?”

“They feel better when they’re wet,” Tristan countered, unable to hide the rising hostility from his tone.

The guys continued to go back and forth for the next fifteen minutes until Clay had enough and finally dismissed us.

My head spun as I shoved through the door, venturing out into the hall.

Mason grumbled something about needing a drink and a tight pussy before departing, taking the elevator to the lounge with Vincent trailing behind him.

Nicholas hung back a few moments later, his eyes glazed over like he was lost in thought.

Things used to be much simpler with us. Hell, we all used to be close.

There was a time when I had a lot of fun with Mason, Vincent, and Nicholas.

We used to go to parties together, talk about girls, hit up the football games, and do stupid shit.

They were all twisted in their own right, but every now and then, I’d see a glimpse of the old them.

Well … except for Vincent. He’d always been hard and unreadable.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Nicholas finally said. “I’ll catch y’all later.”

I nodded, my throat tight with anxiety as I watched him leave. As soon as he slipped into the elevator, I whirled on Tristan, fisting the front of his shirt. A grunt of surprise left him as I shoved him against the wall, my chest heaving in tune with my frantic breathing.

“What kind of fucked up game are you playing at?” I demanded.

Tristan’s nostrils flared, his light blue eyes blazing with animosity.

I didn’t understand what anyone saw in him.

He didn’t look like much. He was lean with sharp facial features and light stubble decorating the edges of his jaw.

His eyes were rimmed red from the number of substances he’d pumped into his bloodstream, and he was constantly on edge.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, testing my goddamn patience.

I’d kept my mouth shut. I’d stayed out of the way, doing whatever it took to keep Hazel out of the limelight.

But then Tristan had to come in and fuck it all up.

He made her wear clothes now, wouldn’t let anyone else touch her, and spoke up to Clay, knowing how volatile my uncle was when questioned.

He also got her a room in the lounge and allowed her to bring a friend.

I’d been downplaying it this entire time, but one thing I knew about Tristan Grant was that nothing was ever coincidental.

Either he was doing this to draw Clay’s attention to Hazel more viscerally, or he was developing feelings for her and didn’t even realize it.

Hell, maybe his obsession was so bad this time, it had consumed him entirely.

“I’m seconds away from bashing your goddamn face in,” I snarled. “I’m not in the mood to be fucked with. What is your damn obsession with Hazel?”

Tristan’s lips twitched, revealing just how unhinged and out of reality this bastard truly was. “You don’t scare me, Dominic. In fact, I’m fairly certain we’d be equally matched in a one-on-one fight.”

I seriously doubted that. I’d been sober for months. Tristan couldn’t stop shooting dope if it would save his life.

“Don’t make me ask again,” I hissed, shoving him harder against the wall.

Finally, he rolled his eyes, but the defiance was still there, sparkling beneath the surface. Part of me wanted to punch him just for fucking Hazel in the first place, but I was already walking a fine line.

“She interests me,” he said simply.

“She’s mine,” I growled possessively. “She’s been mine and she’s still mine.”

Tristan arched an eyebrow, unfazed by my little outburst. In fact, he was as cocky as always. If he thought for one moment that Hazel was into him more than she was me, he was delusional. Hazel hated him. She was only doing what she needed to in order to survive.

When he didn’t respond, I continued, tightening my grip on the front of his shirt.

“You’ll only get her killed. Just like you did to Nia and just like you did with Emerson, and all the girls before that.

” Anger surged through my chest, spreading throughout the rest of my body.

“You said so yourself. You think women are only good for one thing, and once a shinier toy emerges, you dispose of the old ones.”

“So?” he countered, almost sounding bored. “They were of no use to me anymore. I give Hazel more perks because she’s more special. But that doesn’t mean I won’t kill her when the time comes.”

That was what I was afraid of. It sounded insane to my own ears that I’d rather him have genuine feelings for her, because at least then, he wouldn’t want to hurt her.

But as expected, it wasn’t the case. Tristan Grant couldn’t feel.

He didn’t love, and he definitely wouldn’t change his ways or his beliefs for a woman. They were mere objects to him.

A breath rushed from my lungs, and I dropped my arms. “If you kill her, your life will be next,” I warned, stepping away from him.

He smirked in response. “May the best man win.”