Page 126 of Shattered In Darkness

Marcus grabs her by the jaw, forces her mouth open, and spits into it. “That’s your place, Lola. On your knees. On camera. Suffering.”

He jerks me off her, throws her down, and shoves my head between her legs. “Eat her. Lick her until she screams for Daddy.”

The men hold me there. Lola is limp, shivering. I lap at her, tears mixing with her sweat, her blood. She moans, broken, not pleasure but despair.

Marcus paces, watching the feed. “That’s right. You’re making history. Richard will never recover from this.”

He signals; a man steps forward and hands me a knife. “Now, Brody, time for you to prove your loyalty. Cut her. Or I let them rape her.”

My hands shake. The world floats. I try to drop the knife, but the men seize my wrist, forcing my hand down to press the blade against Lola’s thigh.

“Do it,” Marcus says. “Or I’ll take her tongue.” The knife bites her skin. Blood wells up as Lola screams. The men cheer, Marcus grins. “There you go. Love is pain. Suffering is obedience.”

He orders the men to piss on us. The hot stream hits my back, Lola’s hair. The humiliation is total. The camera whirs.

Marcus kneels, grabs Lola’s face, smears her tears with his thumb. “This is forever, darling. Every man in this room owns you now. Every man in this city will know what Brody Voss did to his Bambi. And Richard? He’ll know what happens when you cross me.” He stands, signaling the men. “Time for the final act. Brody, if you want her to live, you’ll choke her until she passes out. If you refuse, I cut out her eye with your knife.”

I stare at Lola, my hands trembling. She nods, silent tears, and I wrap my fingers around her throat. I squeeze. She gasps, clawing at my hands, eyes rolling back. I loosen, terrified, but the men slam my arms down, forcing me to keep going. Lola’s face turns purple.

“Enough,” Marcus says, bored. “Let her breathe. We can’t ruin the product.” He signals again. The men drag us apart, cuff us to opposite walls. Marcus stands in the center, arms wide. “Send that to Richard. Live feed. I want him to see what his failure has wrought.”

He crouches in front of me, cold eyes burning. “This is just the beginning, Brody. I’ll keep you alive as long as you’re useful. As long as you can hurt. As long as you can break her.”

He stands, dusts off his suit, and walks out. The door slams. The camera’s red eye blinks and blinks. I float above my body now. The pain is distant. The shame is infinite. All that’s left is the sound of Lola’s choked sobs, echoing through the darkness, a lullaby for the end of the world.

I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can only watch as Marcus’s men pack up the bloodstained props, the ruined clothes, the spent syringes. I hear laughter. I hear someone say, “He’ll never recover from this. Richard will fucking break.”

They turn off the lights. In the blackness, all I have left is the memory of Lola’s eyes—pleading, terrified, forgiving, ruined.

I whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

But in this place, even the walls know that sorry is just another lie.

42

BRODY

I must look like something out of a horror show, strung up for their sick amusement. Shirtless, ribs a mess of bruises, skin splotched in black and blue and rot. Wrists tied above my head.

This must be the universe punishing me for how I treated Lola. I deserve this. I’m a monster, and she is the thing that used to tame the darkness within me.

It didn’t help that I was using drugs when I had her kidnapped. There were some days, I didn’t even remember what I did to her. I know now I was having some sort of fucking psychotic break.

How could I treat her like that?

My father made me believe that she is the enemy. He made me believe she deserves pain and terror. I will make Richard pay for brainwashing me, I will avenge Lola.

She must hate me for how I acted.

They keep the room cold. My skin is pebbled, teeth chattering in my head, but I won’t give them the satisfaction. Won’t bend for these fucking animals. Just dangle, counting heartbeats, counting shadows.

Everything comes in flashes.

A guard’s fat fist, lodged in my ribs. Hard enough my lungs seize. Another man behind him. They rotate every hour or so, never alone, never letting me slump. If I start to sag, the first man props me up by the hair, cranking my neck back.

The handler’s in the corner. Lean, silver-haired, arms folded. Never blinks. Always watching the guards work, making notes on a battered clipboard.

There’s a shock collar around my neck. Fuckers wrapped it around my throat, snapped tight. The first time, I screamed. Not from pain, but surprise. Electricity bites harder than any fist. Second time, and every time after, I bite down. Ride the pain, grit and bear it.