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“Have you thought about that more? Do you know what you want to do with him?”
I sense Travis and Maison shifting behind us, taking interest in the conversation. The three of us have spent the past few days speculating. Will he want to hurt DuGray like he hurt Casey? Will he monologue? Will he want to kill him or just want to watch us do it?
If he has a plan, he’s keeping it to himself. It scares me. I can’t anticipate what he’ll need from us - from me - until I know. But Dr. Singh warned me not to push him.
“Do you think maybe you could read to me?” Casey asks, not acknowledging my earlier question. “The book I brought?”
I smile. "Of course. I think they were just about to cuddle even. Shall we do the same, little one?"
Chapter Forty-Five
Casey
The first time I saw the outside of DuGray’s house, I was Casey, the collegiate swimmer with broad shoulders and a determination to survive.
The last time I saw the outside of DuGray’s house, I was an empty shell of myself, the slave with a broken body and a plan to die.
Now, I’m not entirely sure who I am, but I think I’m close to being happy. Tonight aside, that is. I have good friends. I have a man that I love, who loves me. A daddy. A pretty fucking great sex life, considering what I’ve been through. I’m about to have a home with all of those people. A safe place to figure out who I am and who I could be.
“Casey?” Jake’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. It’s softer than usual, laced with concern. I look away from the large ivory pillars that used to act as the bars of my prison, focusing on Jake’s face. There’s blood on his cheek. Just the tiniest little smear. I have a feeling there was more. That he cleaned up before he came to get me. “You ready, little one?”
I look back at the house. Somewhere inside there, DuGray is bound and waiting for me. Jake said he has a dislocated shoulder, a shattered elbow, and a head laceration on his temple.
“Okay,” I say, surprised that my voice is so steady. “I’m ready.”
The man I assume is Keats is waiting at the door, a rifle resting against his chest as he casually holds it with his finger just beside the trigger. He didn’t clean up for me. There’s dirt and sweat and blood smeared on his clothes and the side of his neck and his left cheek. His kind smile is strange among all of it, but I still appreciate it. “Hey, kid. You good?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Jake mumbles, flicking his friend’s forehead as he passes him.
I get a whiff of cinnamon gum as Keats laughs. “Okay, rude, but I’ll accept that. I’m here if you need me.”
“Thank you.” I step inside, my knees threatening to buckle. Jake steadies me with a hand on my back. My gaze sweeps the area, my mind whirring with memories. So. Many. Memories. And this is just the foyer. “Um. W-where did you say he is?”
“The dungeon. We figured that’d be the easiest place for you to… punish him.”
The dungeon. “Oh.”
“Is that okay?” He wraps an arm around me, pulling me against his chest. I try not to stare at the blood on his cheek. Will that be me soon? Blood on my skin? Someone else’s blood? DuGray’s blood? “You’re in charge here, little one. What do you want? Where do you want him?”
I just want him dead.
“The dungeon is fine,” I mumble. “It’s… poetic, really.”
“Do you know where it is?”
I choke on a laugh as I pull out of his hold. “I’d never forget.”
“Okay.” He rubs his hand along my back, looking over at Keats. “You’ve got the door covered?”
“Yup.” Keats jokingly salutes with two fingers. Then he winks at me. “Make him pay, kid.”
I don’t have it in me to force a smile or figure out words to say to that, so I just nod and start walking. Jake settles beside me. His hand is warm as it presses to mine, our fingers folding in together.
“We’re heading to the dungeon,” Jake says. I look over at him, realizing he’s not talking to me. There’s a wireless earpiece hooked in his ear, barely noticeable. I don’t know where the mic is, but whoever he’s talking to must hear him easily because he pauses, then responds. “I’ll talk to him.” He looks over at me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “There’s a body down the hall that leads to the dungeon. Do you want me to go move it out of the way first?”
“No.” I don’t know if it’s morbid curiosity or what, but I want to see it. I want to see who it is. See if I recognize him. “Show me.”
Jake’s eyebrows pull together, but he nods. We turn the corner and approach the body lying crumpled in the middle of the hall. The man is in dark jeans and a black shirt - what most of the guards wore unless DuGray was having guests or they went somewhere with him. His neck is twisted in a way it shouldn’t be able to twist. Considering there’s no blood, I’m assuming that’s how he met his end. I take a step closer and peer down at his face.
