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It’s hard to believe just a few days ago, Eli was here with the real Mackenzie Malloy. I glance down at the woman on my arm, confident that I’ve got the right twin, and damn she looks fine tonight. Brutality never looked so good.
We locate room fourteen. Claudia slides the key into the lock and sweeps inside. I follow her, closing the door behind me with a click.
“I thought you’d never get here.” Gabriel swigs from a silver flask as he luxuriates across the gold-flecked bedspread. George sits stiffly in a velvet chair, her nails digging into the arms. Scattered around them is a plethora of BDSM gear – floggers and leather collars, whips and handcuffs, and several oddly-shaped implements I don’t want to inquire about, all thrown about as if there’d been a grand struggle. “I was just about to start my own unique brand of torture by singing Justin Bieber songs horribly off-key, over and over and over until I drove her insane. She’s practically begging for Noah to take over.”
I peer around the room until I locate our charge. Hanging from the Saint Andrew’s cross is a woman, naked except for a pastel pink lace bra and matching thong. Her hands and feet are shackled to the apparatus, and a ball gag muffles her cries.
Claws slips the gag from her mouth. “Hello, Daphne.”
George
“It was too easy.” Gabriel leans against a sex swing, his hands patting his pockets, looking for the weed I swiped earlier and dumped in the trash. Sad to waste good grass, but Gabe needs an intervention, stat. “All I did was mention that George and I were looking for a good time away from the stuffy parents and she melted like butter, practically led us up here. And who am I to turn down such an enthusiastic fan?”
Gabe’s features are relaxed, but I notice his eyes dart nervously around the room. He pulls a silver flask from his pocket and takes a huge swig. He’s supposed to be sober. He promised me and Claws he’d stay sober. But I get that he needs to obliterate the memory of what he’s done.
What we’ve done.
Daphne jerks her head back as Claudia leans in close. Even through the haze of alcohol, she’s terrified. She screams for help, and Claudia chuckles, slapping her cheek lightly.
“Scream all you want, princess. Anyone outside these walls will only believe Gabriel’s working his magic on your body.” She licks her lips. “Tsk, tsk. If only you remembered that his demon tongue is for my pussy only.”
Claudia slaps her other cheek. Daphne’s head rolls back. “What do you want?” she cries, tears streaking makeup down her cheeks.
I did this.
Gabriel might’ve been the one who manhandled her into place, but I clamped the restraints shut. I pushed the ball gag into her mouth.
I told Claudia everything she needed to know to kill this girl’s father.
I have no love for Daphne. She’s tormented me since grade school. And everything I read suggests her father is a complete scumbag. The world won’t miss him.
But… I lost my dad.
I know the pain that cuts open your chest and twists into your heart. I know that grief is endlessly bleeding through that open wound, and you walk around trying to act normal with a fuck-off big gaping hole in your chest. Eventually, you get so good at pretending that people stop seeing your blood and guts spilling all over the floor, but the hole is still there. Always.
I don’t know if I can live with carving that same hole into someone else’s heart.
“Get out of my face, bitch.” Daphne switches tactics, going from sniveling victim to bitch princess.
“Manners, Daphne.” Claws strokes a nail along her cheek. “We’re not here to hurt you. We just want to have a little chat about your father.”
“My father?” Daphne’s jaw sets. “What does he have to do with anything? He’s dead.”
“That’s not true, is it?” Claudia crosses the room and throws an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close so I can smell her heady perfume. She’s wearing something of Ainsley Malloy’s tonight – some vanilla and floral scent that reminds me of Mackenzie wafting past me in the halls before she slammed me into a locker. “You see, George here has learned that your old man is very much alive.”
Daphne glares at me. “I never thought a goody-goody freak like you would do something like this.”
I swallow. I never thought so, either. I don’t say anything. If I open my mouth, I’m going to scream.
“You know I’m going to sue you when I get out of here, George Fisher. Your poor freak hippie mother won’t have a single thing left by the time I’m done.”
Claudia tsks. She slides the hem of her dress over her thigh in a slow, languid motion that makes Gabe moan. From the leather sheath strapped to her thigh, she draws a thin, silver blade. Claudia turns the point on the pad of her finger, drawing a droplet of crimson blood. “If you want to make it out of this room alive, insulting my best friend is not the greatest way to start.”
Daphne’s eyes widen as she watches the knife. Her whole body goes rigid. Claudia stands and crosses the room again. Blood rushes in my ears. Claudia bends over her captive. I taste acid in my mouth. I want to scream, to hurl myself across the room and stop this, but I’m frozen in place.
Why don’t Gabe or Noah stop her?
Noah stands behind Claudia, beefy arms crossed over his chest. He peers down the cross, dark eyes narrowed with hunger. Gabe lies across the bed, chin resting in his hands, gazing up at Claudia like she’s a goddess come to life.
