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TWENTY-TWO
Xander
My phone rings—as I know it would—but I ignore Windsor’s call, still trying to collect my thoughts. The scavenger hunt is over, and the students who survived it returned to their rooms some time ago. Even though hours have passed, I keep reliving the feeling of Remington’s lips wrapped around my dick, and fuck if I don’t get hard at the thought every single damn time. The scent of her is etched into my nostrils and with every inhale, I smell Remington Radcliffe—the woman of my fucking downfall.
The reason why everything I’ve worked so hard for is going to go up in fucking flames.
But not today, if I can get my head in the game—the one on my shoulders, that is. Too bad my cock is happy to lead this shitshow called my life, but I need to get it together. Windsor won’t stop calling, and I need to be prepared for his questions. The only way to win this little chess game of his is to remain three moves ahead while pretending to be four moves behind. So far, I’ve done a great job of this—until I let a student fucking suck me off for a key.
Guilt churns inside my stomach, building when I remember that I’m here for Bianca,notRemi. The one woman I swore to protect and have failed at every turn—like today. Now, my gut twists, and bile rises in my throat, threatening to push into my mouth and past my lips. I admit to being a monster and using the situation to manipulate Remington, but it was also my escape because I’m fucking weak. The body and soul can only take so much before it wears down, and I finally reached that breaking point.
Part of it is Remi—I could only resist her for so long—but the larger part is Bianca and the things I witnessed her do for the sake of survival. The very things I vowed to shield her from, but fucking Windsor tied my hands. The bastard knows I’m going out of my way to help her, and the last thing I want is to call his sick wrath upon Bianca, but yet I still slipped her a note of what places to avoid during the scavenger hunt.
My shoulders tense at the memory and horror of it all, since I’m the one Windsor instructed to orchestrate the damn thing. Fucking sharks, jaguars, venomous snakes, poison darts, decayed corpses—and that isn’t even the worst. No, the worst is what my sweet, innocent Bianca experienced. Today, her soul was stripped from her body, and I doubt even I can do anything to bring back her humanity. Once it’s been taken from a person, they fall into the pit of darkness deep inside of them, drowning in the blackness of despair.
Irritation prickles under my skin when my phone jingles again. I have no option but to answer if I don’t want my loved ones to suffer any consequences. Heaving back a sigh, I force my hand to swipe the screen and answer the call. A million different emotions—all volatile—flood my body at the sound of Windsor’s voice on the other line. The man is always so smug and content, like the cat that got the cream, because he thinks he’s gotten away with murder.
Literally.
“Xander! How’d our little hunt go?”
“Fine, except for the jaguar. The guards can’t find it.”
Windsor tsks in mock concern. “Best be careful on the grounds, then. We wouldn’t want any more pointless bloodshed.” He laughs cruelly as I shudder at his words—what a cocksucking piece of work this prick is. “Anything else to report?”
“No.” The lie slides off my tongue easily enough.
“Hmmm,” Windsor hums. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it. Where are you at?”
“I’m about to step into my office.”
“Excellent, Celeste is waiting for you.”
Celeste is one of the female guards who has repeatedly tried to get into my pants. Stifling a groan, I slide open the secret panel of my office to find the muscular brunette smiling in superiority. The sight rankles the fuck out of me, but I school my features into passive blankness. Giving her a curt nod as she rounds behind me, I wait for Windsor to tell me what the hell is going on.
“Is she there?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful. I’ll speak again with you soon after you wake up.”
“After I wa—”
Before my brain can even compute what the fuck this means, Celeste is stabbing something into the side of my neck. I roar in pain and scratch blindly at the area before swinging around to lunge at the woman. She easily sidesteps me, and I stumble forward. No matter how much I try, I can’t find my balance and ultimately fall to my knees, my vision fuzzy. Even though I can’t articulate it, I know I’ve been drugged.
Mentally, I decide I can’t wait any longer—Windsor needs to die now—then, my world goes black.
* * *
I come to with a gasp, my eyes searching the darkness wildly before I realize that I'm sitting in my office. There’s a blank TV screen in front of me, and I'm bound to my desk chair. My ankles are tied to the feet and my wrists to the armrest. Across my shoulders and chest is a singular restraint, but the most insidious of all is the cage wrapped around my bared cock.
Although I’m still fully clothed, somebody took the time to take my dick out and place this contraption over it—that someone was likely Celeste. She’s certainly strong enough to lift me and bind me. I shudder thinking of the sick pleasure she derived from all of this. Goddamn Windsor! As if summoning the very devil himself, the screen in front of me lights up as the bastard’s detested visage fills it.
“How are you feeling, Xander?” He asks in mock concern.
“Like you should go fuck yourself,” I growl.
Windsor only chuckles. “Oh, well then let me assure you, the only one getting fucked here isyou.”
