Page 79 of Depraved

Instantly, her blue eyes were filled with tears and a million questions as she looked up at me. “Jesus, Granite. What are they doing to her?”

I grabbed the phone off the floor, and Alyx started to thrash against Dutch’s hold. “Granite! They’re killing her. Stop them, please!” Tears ran down her cheeks like a river of pain, and it killed me. It fucking shredded me from the inside out.

“Granite, please help her! Let me go, and help her.” Alyx kept screaming, pleading, begging with every tear she shed, and it gutted me four ways.

“Take her back to her room, Dutch.”

“No! No!” she yelled, kicking and screaming while she wept what could have been tears of blood. “Don’t do this, Granite. God, please don’t do this. Let me go home.”

“Take her!” My voice boomed through the garage. I couldn’t fucking take it anymore. Her cries were breaking every bone, slicing through every inch of my flesh.

Alyx screamed. She didn’t stop. The sound only grew softer as Dutch dragged her back to her room.

Rage possessed me, like a thousand demons eager to rip every living creature apart. Slither was making me choose. He was forcing me to choose between the girl who was like family to me—to us—and the girl I’d waited years for.

The Pythons forked us, and we were fucked no matter which move we chose to make.

From a distance, I heard Onyx’s and Manic’s voices. Ink was telling them what just happened, filling them in on how Slither fingered us all. When I turned to face them, it was evident on everyone’s faces that all of us understood the gravity of the situation. Apart from being the object of my obsession for so long, Alyx was also the only weapon we had to win this war.

There was no way in hell we could have let her go.

Alyx

I had lost sense of time. There was no way of telling whether it had been an hour already or not. All I could do was pray that there was still time. Maybe Granite could still save her. Maybe it wasn’t over yet. God, I hoped it wasn’t over yet.

I’d been pacing, trying to get that image of Neon out of my head. Covered in blood, hanging from the ceiling with a hook pierced through her back, she looked like a dead animal at a slaughterhouse. It was the most horrific thing I’d ever seen, and it was something I’d never be able to un-see. No matter how all this ended, I’d never be able to forget what I saw, and I couldn’t imagine the horror she had to have gone through. The agony. The pain. Oh, God, the pain.

The thought of Neon being tortured, ending up murdered because of me, was tearing at my flesh with the sharp claws of guilt. How did I go from being a simple ballerina to a woman carrying the life of another human being on her shoulders? I knew it wasn’t up to me. I knew this wasn’t my fault, and that ultimately Granite was the one who held the power in the palm of his hand. But I still felt it. I still felt the blood of blame coat my own hands. If Granite didn’t save her by giving me up, he’d be sentencing me to a hell far worse than the one ruled by the devil himself.

Granite had to save her. He just had to. The only way she could be saved was for Granite to give me up. It wasn’t like he had to exchange my life for hers. They weren’t demanding a trade that would have me end up in their hands. They just wanted Granite to send me home. That was it. In my head, it was a no-brainer. But not for Granite, it seemed.

The way his face hardened when I begged him to let me go, to save Neon, scared me. It terrified me to witness how easily he could switch off his humanity without even fucking blinking. From the start, I knew ice ran through his veins. He was the president of the American Street Kings, the cruel, fearless leader. But he was also the guardian. The protector. Neon was the one who told me that, who convinced me of that.

Who the fuck was he protecting now? He’d rather keep me for himself than save Neon’s life? It was unfathomable for me to even try to understand his reasoning behind it.

The turn of the lock had me rushing to the door, my pulse racing at a million beats per second. Granite walked inside with a somber look on his face, yet his shoulders were squared with confidence, like a man determined to do what needed to be done. A man who never showed weakness. Never. And then it hit me, the realization almost knocking me off my feet. If Granite had to give in to the demands of a rival club, he’d be showing weakness—something a man like him didn’t know how to do. Something a man like him would never do.

“You’re not taking the trade, are you?” My voice quivered.

His lips were pulled in a straight line, lips I’d felt on mine. Lips that were warm and seductive. Lips that had the power to make me surrender everything I had. My soul. My body. My innocence. Yet here he was, and I knew those same lips were about to sentence me to a life where I’d forever regret how easily I succumbed, ultimately selling my soul to the devil.

With nothing but an icy stare, he confirmed my worst fear. I shook my head. “No.”

He kept on staring at me, vacant and resolute. A hardened man with nothing but a black hole where his heart should be.

Swallowing the threatening tears, I studied him, trying to find a sliver of hope in the depths of his eyes. “Granite, tell me you didn’t⁠—”

“I’m not going to say I’m sorry, Alyx.”

There was a bitter taste in my mouth as I watched him, my chest heavy as it tried to keep my heart from shattering. “You can’t do this.”

“It’s already done.”

“No. No.” I stumbled back. “You can’t be serious?”

He didn’t move an inch. “There’s nothing I could do.” His voice lacked emotion, no trace of regret or compassion.

I narrowed my eyes in disbelief. “You can’t tell me I’m that fucking important that you would rather let those savages tear Neon apart than give me up.”