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“Yo! I don’t have fu—” Dread fills me as she slowly turns and the side of her profile cuts through the lens. When the girl finally faces me, her green eyes popping up at me through the leather black mask, my anger takes control and my fist flies through the back window of my car. “Fuck!” I yell, clutching the phone in my hand. Wicked and Roo gather closer, but everything else ceases to exist except for what I’m watching on my phone.
“You see this, Royce? She makes a cute little bunny, don’t you agree?” He moves the camera around her body as she drops to her knees, ropes tied behind her back. Her eyes glass over, vacant, submissive, as he gently runs his finger down her black mask and over her petite face. “I planned this to end differently, but you just couldn’t play along, could you, Bunny.” H?” is suit comes into view as his hand dips lower, down to the front of her breasts. The muscles in my jaw jolts, my shoulders squaring as undiluted rage simmers to the surface of my skin.
I steady my breathing, unable to fucking see straight. “You fucked up now.”
His laugh is a loud cackle that shoots straight through my ears and hits all of my anger points on its way out. His face appears at the lens, only he’s wearing a ski mask to hide behind. “I was counting on it.”
Wrath deepens its claws into my skin as the video continues to play. Her clothes aren’t torn, a black dress clinging to her tiny figure. She looks dressed for an event. My palms itch with sweat, heat flushing through me. I’m going to kill this motherfucker.
I feel Wicked come up behind me to see the video. His energy shifts so drastically that I pause, flicking up to see what his problem is. His face is pale, all color drained from his skin. He’s zoned in on the video, jaw clenching. “Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head, stumbling backward. “I should have known.”
“Known what?” I snap at him as the video continues to play in my hand.
“It’s fucking her.” He buries his hands into his hair, tugging on the ends in frustration. “I should have known,” he croaks.
“I’m losing my fucking patience,” I grate, my eyes pinned on his.
He clears his throat. “She was in my den.”
I still, blood turning cold. “You got the wrong one. This is about me. Diamond took her because of me.”
Wicked shakes his head firmly, his demeanor softening. I know he’s not fucking around. “She was in my den. After you all left.”
My mouth slams closed. I’ll address this later, right now we’re on the clock. I need to know what the fuck is going on.
“What the fuck do you want?” I say into the camera.
His laugh is loud enough to rock the ground under my feet. I need to control my anger. Wait on it. Hold on to it like a loaded gun and only fire it when I have him within reach. The camera moves and I catch movement in the corner where another girl is curled. When she looks up to the lens, I instantly notice it as being Sloane. What the fuck. Why would he take Sloane as well. Jade is enough to move me to do whatever the fuck he wants. Sloane looks different from how Jade looks. No dress. No mask. The fear that is etched into her face makes it obvious that she hasn’t been injured in this world.
Why doesn’t Jade have that same air of fear?
My eyes swing back to Jade. Placid. Vacant. Stoic. Unmoving. Dead inside. It all makes sense. Wicked is telling the truth. There’s more to Jade than what she’s been telling me, and definitely to what I know. Has this fuck been fucking with her since I left too?
“I’m going to find you, I’m going to unmask and find out who you are, and then I’m going to peel the flesh from your bones.”
“Tsk, tsk,” he says, waving his finger in front of the camera. “You really shouldn’t make threats while I have your most—” He pauses behind Jade, his hands dipping inside the slit of her dress. I squeeze the phone in my hand as I watch movement beneath the dress. “Prized possession.” His breathy laughter lingers. “She’s nice and wet. Just how much do you know about your innocent little Duchess, Royce? Do you know that she requires a certain level of pain to enjoy being fucked?” He stands from his position and wipes his finger over his suit. “Which admittedly is why I always make sweet, sweet love to her. It’s all a torture game. So let me ask you,” he says, finally picking up the camera. “Do you want to play?”
“Just say yes,” Wicked growls from beside me. I gape up at Wicked with a scowl, who mouths, “We will kill him.”
