Page 14 of Sweet Torment

Tristan scrambles back, teeth bared. "Fuck you," he spits. "You’re not chaining me to that psycho bitch even more than I already am."

Montgomery sighs, like he’s tired of dealing with idiots. "I was hoping we could do this the easy way." He holds up a remote, points, presses.

Tristan seizes, body locked and twisted, eyes rolling back as the collar activates.

“Stop! Fuck, stop it!” Freddie howls, rattling his cage.

While Tristan’s still twitching, Montgomery reaches through an opening in the cage and plunges a needle into him. The effects are instant and brutal. Tristan arches, retches, vomits onto the ground. He shakes so hard his teeth chatter, and I’m worried he’ll bite his tongue off.

"What the fuck are you doing to him?" Owen roars.

I can only watch as Tristan writhes, hands clawing his own neck, right over Whitney’s old bite.

Montgomery straightens. “There’s no need for theatrics.”

He moves to Freddie’s cell. “Mr. Miller. Will you cooperate, or must I compel you?”

Freddie’s breathing is wild. “Go to hell.”

Montgomery shrugs, and hits the remote. Freddie falls to the ground, and when the current cuts off the needle is jabbed into his shoulder. Freddie convulses before going limp.

I grip the bars until my hands cramp. “You’re going to kill them!”

“The process is uncomfortable, but not fatal. Your concern is noted, Mr. Dashwood.” He turns to Owen.

Owen is already squared up, teeth bared, pure fury. “Do it, you fucking coward.”

Montgomery obliges, and as soon as Owen has fallen into a position where he can reach, he shoves the needle into his neck and empties the syringe. He starts retching and rolling around while Montgomery doesn’t even bother to watch the aftereffects.

He addresses the guard at the top of the stairs. “Take Whitney to her room. Don’t let her out.” The guard hauls Whitney’s limp body up the steps.

Montgomery checks his watch, then vanishes from the room.

Freddie’s curled up, arms banded tight around his knees, his whole body trembling like he might shake apart if he let go for even a second. Sweat beads on his forehead, draining every hint of color from his face.

Tristan’s sprawled on his side, knuckles crushed between his teeth, jaw locked so hard that blood wells up where he’s bitten straight through the skin. He keeps making this sound—a low, broken animal noise that claws up my spine and sets every nerve jangling. His eyes are blown wide, pupils swallowing up almost all the blue.

Owen? He’s gone feral. Scraping at the concrete with his bare nails, dragging lines through the filth, not even pretending to be human anymore. No words, just these guttural, desperate grunts. I’ve seen Owen lose it before, seen him lash out, but this is something else. Like he’s being gutted from the inside, stripped out, hollowed.

The bars dig into my palms. “What did he do to you?” I hear my own voice, but nothing gets through to any of them. They’re too far gone, trapped in some place I can’t reach, with nothing for me to do but watch and count the minutes stretching out endlessly as they unravel.

When Tristan finally speaks, I flinch. “Whitney.” The word is thin, barely there, a wisp of sound clawing out of him.

My stomach plummets. Is he calling for her?

"What is it, Tristan?" I press myself against the bars, straining to hear.

His eyes find mine, unfocused at first, then clearing for just a moment. "I barely feel her." The words come out slurred, like his tongue is too thick for his mouth.

“What do you mean?” It comes out too loud and echoes in the room. “Tristan?”

His hand shakes as he claws at his neck, where Whitney’s mark is. But he doesn’t answer.

One by one, their bodies go limp against the concrete floor, and I’m left standing alone, with no idea of what just happened.

5

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