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When I finally pull back, I nearly puke at the gross sight in front of me. I turn my head away, dry heaving over the way I pummeled Gage to death. Shame and loathing fill me as the tears burn from my eyes.
Through the roars of the cult, the sick bastards relishing in the brutal death of a young man, I hear Mackenzie’s pleading voice, beckoning me like a siren’s song. “Chase, look at me.”
When I turn my shameful eyes to hers, my heart stutters inside my chest. I expect to see disgust and loathing. Instead, there’s sympathy and love shining in the depths of her amber eyes. “Stop it,” she mouths.“You did what you had to do. You saved me from him.”
Her words are like a life raft. I’m drowning, but she’s keeping me afloat.
I climb to my feet, exiting the ring. I don’t give a fuck that I have to walk on broken glass to get to her.Noobstacle will stand in my way.
Green, brown, and clear glass litter the floor. Some of the shards are big, while others are tiny. I take a deep breath, and on the exhale, I lift my foot, placing it on the glass, trying to stay light on my feet. My head lifts, eyes locking with hers, as I walk across it as if I was wearing shoes. But I’m not, and I wince as pieces cut the bottoms of my feet. Every step is agonizing, but I keep repeating the same mantra inside my head.Get to her. All that matters is Mackenzie.
Tears glisten in her eyes before rolling down her cheeks. I barely remember wrapping my hands around the handles of the cutters Rosario handed me when I passed her.
I cut the zip ties from around her wrists, then her ankles. When I stand, she wraps her arms around me.
“I’ll always save you, Kenz. As long as there’s breath in my body.” I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her tight.
“Don’t let go,” she whispers against my chest.
“I’llneverlet you go, angel.” Then I lift her in my arms like she’s my bride, carrying her over broken glass so it doesn’t cut her feet.
37
MACKENZIE
Rosario leads us to a room in the mansion with a huge bathroom. While she fills the tub, I help Chase undress, before removing the dress Rosario made me wear to the fight.
After Chase settles in the tub, I crawl in with him, the warm water soothing my tense body.
Rosario meets my eyes. “I’ll be right outside the door.” Then she silently exits.
There are no windows in this large restroom. I doubt there are any weapons, but as soon as I get Chase cleaned up and ensure his psychological state is okay, I’ll search and see what I can find.
Right now, he’s my priority.
“Chase.” I cup his face, tilting it so his eyes are level with mine. “Are you okay?”
He silently stares at me before blowing out a long breath. “I don’t know.”
The turmoil in his whiskey irises guts me. He looks sick, but I don’t think it’s entirely over ending a man’s life. I think it’s because he’s worried that my opinion of him has changed.
I grab a washcloth, wet it, and put some soap on it. As I gently wipe the blood from his skin, I steel my spine, my voice full of all the conviction I feel. “In this place, we do what we must to survive.” Pausing, I clean the soap from his back, hating the agony on his face. “What you did in that ring wasn’t about survival. It was about protecting me. If you think my opinion of you has lowered in any way from it, you’re sadly mistaken, Chase. If anything, you’ve elevated it by showing me how strong you are.”
The relief on his face is like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky. His breath shudders before he exhales a long sigh, his tense muscles loosening. “Thank God.”
“Chase. Nothing can change my feelings for you.” I gently rub my nose against his. “Nothing at all.”
I kiss him so thoroughly that when I pull back, his expression is dazed. “Now sit back for me.” After he complies, I grab the first aid kit that Rosario sits on the edge of the tub. Opening it, I pull out the tweezers and begin gently removing the glass from the bottom of his feet.
“I love you, Mackenzie Dawn.” The gratitude and reverence in his voice make me pause.
“I love you, Chase Everett Landon.”
Two hours later, we’re dressed in the clothing we arrived in. Once again, we find ourselves standing in the church basement where the first ritual took place. Only this time, my left wrist is shackled to Chase’s right one. Both of us are covered in bruises and lacerations, our bodies sore and beaten from Orpheus’s cruel treatment. I wrapped Chase’s damaged feet in gauze and bandages after our bath. At least Rosario was kind enough to return his shoes.
We stand at the edge of the pentagram facing the altar. I’m trying like hell not to look at it, knowing the memories will rush over me and beat me down. It’s bad enough that every time I close my eyes, those memories haunt me.
My eyes flick to Chase. He’s staring at the altar, but when he feels my stare, he quickly drops his gaze to mine. Shadows lurk in their depths, haunted by his own memories of that horrific night.
