Page 24 of Off the Rails

Even Cyrus thinks she’s special?

There was something about her I couldn't put my finger on. Even after having her, the fixation hadn't subsided like I had hoped. I felt myself wrapping around her pretty little finger. And we all knew how dangerous that was.

Cyrus turned on her heels and headed back toward the middle of the park, Nash following close behind her.

I brushed the hair from my face, sweat smoothing the curls slightly.

As we made our way home, a wave of anxiety washed over me. Fear that I had scared her, scared my little toy by taking what I wanted.

Those were the rules. And she had agreed.

The feeling bubbled inside me, energy surging through my body as we walked. I wanted another hunt, right now.

But I knew Cyrus would make me wait.

She liked a fair fight. And with our captive this exhausted, it wouldn't be a contest.

As we approached the sector of the park known as Jungle Jolt, my nerves started to settle. We’d called this fake rainforest home for nearly a decade now.

But while the sight comforted me, my Trinket's forehead wrinkled. "This dump is where you live?"

Rather than dignify her insult with a response, Cyrus shouldered past her, knocking her off-balance. She stepped inside the dusty room, and headed for a door with a worn employees only sign. There, Cyrus turned to look back at us and nodded to Nash.

Looking down at our girl, Nash winked. “I'm gonna have to cover your ears, Sweet Lamb. Can't have you holding the keys to the castle.”

Our girl rolled her eyes. "Like I'd ever want to come back to this musty lair."

I knew a devious smirk would be blooming under Nash’s mask. The way she’d hidden tonight, she would be stuck with us for quite a while.

And despite losing her first Fright Night, my new toy had no idea what we got up to in the shadows.

When Nash clamped her hands around our captives ears, it looked as though the lightning bolts of her tattooed hand were plunging into "Mary’s" head.

In a matter of seconds, Cyrus input the code, and the large metal lock clicked out of place. Nash removed her hands from the girl’s head and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Come on in, sweetheart.”

Cyrus pushed the door open and waltzed inside, flinging the door open for us to follow.

I need to see her face.

Nudging forward, I held the door and snuck past our captive just to catch a glimpse.

Her eyes widened as she realized that the “dump” we’d brought her to housed a modern, loft-style apartment. Obviously, it hadn't always looked that way. But ten years left us a lot of time to renovate.

We’d started years ago, building out the loft slowly and carefully. We’d designed it to be a safehouse and a home. The walls were concrete — the same thickness as a fallout shelter — with wood accents that served as sound proofing and the occasional original brick wall peeking through.

The floors were polished concrete, smooth and shiny under the soft glow of the orange light. And of course, there was the ultra-modern kitchen. Every appliance was a shimmering, stainless steel.

We weren't gonna live in squalor. Even if I kind of wanted to.

She must be impressed.

I ached to hear her voice again. But our captive was silent as she brushed past us and into the living room. She kept her arms crossed, guarded even now.

Her walls didn’t seem this high when she was letting me fuck her.

That was okay, though. It just gave me an excuse to do it all over again.

She kept up the standoffish act as she appraised the furniture and the art. It didn’t take a genius to see that she was trying to tally up our riches against her potential earnings.