“I cleaned you up. I didn't want any of your wounds getting infected,” he says casually. My eyes ease, then I lift my head, resting my chin on his pec and his lenses immediately collide with mine.
He lifts his hand, gently flicking my hair over my shoulder before he wraps it around the side of my neck. “I need some fucking answers.”
“Oh yeah? What do you need answers about?” I ask.
He tilts his head to the side, his eyes scanning my face with curiosity. “Why is all of this nothing to you?” His warm thumb moves down my jaw as he continues, “All that you saw last night. You were not as fazed as I thought you would be, you played the fucking game and played it well. Does this shit not scare the fuck out of you?”
I think about his questions carefully before I respond. “It does. Of course, it does, but I relish feeling anything other than emptiness, I guess.” My truthful answer makes his thumb pause on my jaw as he thinks carefully about my words, but I continue. “I've got questions too, Hell, and I need answers now that I have made it through Dark Night.”
His teeth tighten as he rests his head back on the headboard, sliding his hand down to my shoulder. “Ask, Madame,” he instructs bluntly before facing aside.
I move my body further up his, my tits sliding across his skin and when my lips are close to his, we stare into one another's eyes. “I'm not asking, Madame. I'm asking you.” I push quietly while searching his gaze. “Why is this all normal to you? And who were those people? Were they innocent?”
He inhales, starting to sit up and as he rests his back against the headboard, I sit up as well, swivelling my body to face him and wrap the sheet tightly around my front. He briefly considers how to respond before his eyes meet mine.
“We don't ask fucking questions; we just do,” he answers coldly and my brows pinch in confusion. “We're a secret society. There are thousands of us across the network. It's not justus here. We're merely one of the cleaners of the society,” he explains, his tone flat and unfeeling.
I shake my head, shocked by the revelations, a shiver scurrying up my spine. “What?” I shudder out, realization settling over me like a cold blanket.
He shrugs his shoulders carelessly, “You could say they're innocent to someone, but not to the fucking society they aren’t. They’re traitors, witnesses, or rivals lured here to lose their lives for their betrayal against their vows.”
My mouth drops open to speak, but he continues. “They believe coming here means they’re getting their own revenge on those who have deceived them, and they do, but by the end of the night, they also meet their own fate in the worst ways imaginable. They feel the sting of their own wrongdoings in the society,” he finishes, his eyes locking onto mine. I lower my head, fiddling with the sheet, taking his words in carefully, but I feel his dark stare all over me, observing my reaction.
“You shouldn't even be here, Noir. You owe nothing to the society,” he says, and I lift my head.
“Yet here I am,” I respond quietly. “Do you even want to be here, Hell?”
He raises his eyebrow at my question, “It's all I know. I've been here since I was a fucking kid.”
I offer a nod. “And that place you have underground?”
He takes a deep inhale before looking aside and grins, “You fucking had me, Little Dolly, I’ll give you that.”
I smile slightly, but then his face falls. “How did you know what drugs to stab into my neck without killing me?”
When he asks, my face falls as well, and I avoid eye contact. “I studied meds once or twice,” I breathe out the lie.
“And where the fuck are your family, Noir? What was your life like before all of this mayhem?” His voice cuts through the silence, pressing for answers, seemingly trying to get to know me and my mind races frantically.
When my eyes meet his, I finally speak. “They're dead. Well, I have a sister somewhere, but…” I shrug my shoulder, not wanting to delve into much. He raises his chin, studying me before giving a small nod in understanding.
“And you?”
“Dead,” he answers without hesitation, devoid of any emotion.
“All of them?”
He squints his eyes before glancing away, “The ones that mattered.”
Talking to him like this makes me realize that we're not much different from one another after all. Maybe that's why we click. We've clearly both had fucked-up childhoods, and even now, we're stuck in darkness in ways the outside world might never understand. But I know, deep down, I can't stay here. After him saying that this circus is linked to a criminal society, it's only a matter of time before Kyro finds and takes me. I dread to think what he might do when he finally gets his hands on me. I doubt I'll make it out alive twice.
The thoughts of leaving here and Hell fill me with a sorrow I have never experienced before because I feel like I have found my place, but I don't want him tangled up in this horrifying web.
If Hell has no say over this society, he certainly won't have any say over Kyro. Kyro is powerful; he is an acknowledged man in the criminal underworld of the United States. No one, not even Hell, can save me from his cruel clutches, and that's the harsh truth.
Hell's loyalty will always lie with this place, his society, because that is just the way it is, and I am nothing but an intruder who will make things harder for everyone here. How the fuck, out of all the places I could have gone and stayed, have I ended up here? A killing carnival that cleanses a hidden society in the underworld.
“I should get going,” I say, turning around to get off the bed, but his firm grip on the nape of my neck stops me. He pulls me back down and flips me onto my front. I breathe heavily as his chest presses against my bare back, and he brings his mouth close to my ear.
