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He stepped forward, boots thudding softly on the bloody floor. "Mean every fuckin' word, little ember."
"God, what are you?" I found myself asking, not sure if I wanted an answer.
"Your worst nightmare and your darkest dream," he murmured, stepping closer.
My gaze flickered to the motionless forms at his feet, the crimson pooling beneath them painting the dungeon floor in a tapestry of finality. My hands trembled, and I clenched them into fists, fighting the urge to reach out to him, to seek reassurance in the madness.
"Chris, what have you done?" The words tumbled from my lips, raw and laced with terror. It hit me like a freight train. "Priscilla... she's going to kill us. Oh my God."
"Saved you," he grunted, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, the gesture brutally casual. He continued his pacing as he tried to release the tension in his shoulders.
"Saved me?" My laugh was bitter and sharp. "For what? To be your plaything? To be sold to Gustov? What then? Huh?"
"Fuck no." He stepped over a lifeless arm, coming closer, his shadow falling over me. "To be the queen to my damn kingdom."
My heart pounded a frantic rhythm, the sound deafening in my ears as I watched him approach. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I was a deer caught in the headlights of his predatory gaze.
"Queen?" I choked on the word, disbelief coloring my tone. "This is no kingdom; it's a goddamn slaughterhouse."
"Same difference," he snarled, his face inches from mine. The scent of blood wrapped around me like a vice. "You wanted a way out, Ella? This is it. With me, or in a body bag."
"Is this supposed to be mercy?"
"Mercy?" He laughed, low and menacing, his breath hot on my skin. "No, little ember, this is ownership. You belong to me. You have since the minute I saw the way your eyes rolled back in your head at the slightest touch. Every fucking inch of you is mine."
A shiver ran down my spine at his coarse words, my body betraying me with its response to his nearness.
My mind reeled, grappling with the juxtaposition of this brutal man and his unexpected gesture of protection. Fear mingled with a reckless thrill.
His lips curled into a semblance of a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Now you get your wish."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm your fucking savior."
Thirteen: Chris
I leaned against the cold concrete wall, a cigarette dangling from my lips, smoke filling the room in a haze. Fuck, what a mess.
Shit. I flicked ash to the floor. Gotta keep her safe now.
Annie and Izzy, those bitches, they were just as twisted as the old hag that spawned them. Grew up with silver spoons shoved so far down their throats, they choked on their own venom. Watching them over the years, taking what they wanted, hurting people for sport... it was no fucking surprise they turned out rotten.
When I put them down, it was like squashing a pair of roaches—no remorse. The crunch of bone, the spill of blood—it was therapeutic. When they touched Ella, when their filthy hands marred her skin, something inside me snapped.
They deserved it. And more.
I crushed the butt under my boot, sparks dying out like the lives I've ended. Well, I guess I gotta find us a way out of here. Figure out the safe house situation. Time to be the villain playing hero. Fuck, if this ain't a twisted fairy tale, then nothing is.
I grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her out the room. "We have to move."
"Wait. What? Where are we going?"
"Away from here. Now. Ella, I'm not playing. If anyone saw what just happened, we're going to die."
She sharply inhaled. "Do you have a plan?"
"Nope, not really. Just get the fuck out of here first, and then we can stop and plan more, later."
