Page 110 of Depraved

I stood there staring at him, unable to say anything further. He was right. Maybe if I was halfway into the same hell as she was, I’d feel less…guilty.

Granite loomed over me, his dark brows drawn together. “There is no place for guilt in our world. Feeling guilt makes you weak. And weakness will get you killed.”

I didn’t back down, squaring my shoulders, not giving a damn that he could crush me if he wanted to. “Feeling guilt makes me human. Feeling anything makes me human.” My anger turned to courage, and my voice grew louder with every word. “Being human, feeling things, might make me weak in your eyes, but I don’t give a shit. I’d rather feel something and die than live without feeling anything. This world you’re in—the world you forced me into, it’s hell.”

“You’re damn fucking right it’s hell.” Granite’s eyes darkened, the vein in his neck pulsing. “You wanna know what they did to her? You wanna know exactly what evil shit goes down here in hell, ballerina girl?” His words were laced with intentions to hurt while he towered over me, intimidating me. “They raped her with more than just their filthy cocks. They did things to her body that go beyond the most fucked-up thing you can ever imagine, and I bet she begged them to shove their penises up her ass rather than do to her what they did.” He took a step closer. “They beat her, Alyx. They made her bleed. They made her scream. And those third degree burns on her back, wanna know how she got those?”

I retreated more, the look in his eyes scaring me. It was like evil possessed him, and his words became malignant as he spat them out one by one.

“Granite, stop.” My back hit the wall.

“You wanted to know, so I’m telling you. Ask me, Alyx. Ask me how she got those motherfucking third-degree burns.”

I shook my head, no longer convinced I wanted to know.

Granite slammed his fist against the wall behind me. “Ask me!” His voice rumbled, and it shook me to the core, causing me to whimper, closing my eyes from fear.

He grabbed my chin, and I yelped as his fingers pressed painfully into my jaw. Looming closer, his face was inches from mine. “Ask. Me.”

A shudder wracked down my spine straight to every limb, the wild look in his eyes forcing fear deep inside my chest. “How?”

“A fucking blowtorch.” He said it like it amused him. “They marked her by melting the skin off her back in the shape of a fucking S.” He leaned his head to the side, his eyes dark and merciless. “When we found her, there wasn’t a single inch of her that wasn’t bruised or broken. Her eye is so damaged from a beating, the doc thinks she might be blind in the one eye.”

“Granite—”

“The skin on her thighs had been cut, shredded in so many places it looks like fucking spider webs sliced across her flesh.”

I swallowed hard. “Stop, please.”

He scowled at me while I tried to make myself as small as possible between him and the wall. “Those fuckers raped her in so many ways, she had to have surgery so they could repair internal damage.”

I gasped.

“That’s right, Alyx. They fucked her so bad, they tore her apart.”

“Stop!”

But he tightened his hold on my jaw while forcing me to look him in the eye. “So, tell me, ballerina girl. Tell me which is better. Thinking she’s dead…or knowing exactly how they tortured her?”

My lips quivered, and I desperately tried to swallow my tears. I had never felt so haunted before in my life. Haunted by the knowledge of what Neon had been through. The pain. The fear. All I had was the memory of my own nightmare. She lived through it. She experienced it. My nightmare was her reality. The thought alone had me wanting to break down and turn into nothing but a heap of sobs.

I closed my eyes, no longer able to keep the tears from falling. His thumb wiped at the side of my mouth, his grip on my jaw loosening a little.

“They hurt her, ballerina girl.” The cold tone is his voice dissipated. “They fucking hurt her so bad, and there was nothing I could do.”

I opened my eyes, and the look on his face took me completely by surprise, almost knocking me off my feet. His expression was no longer stone, but rather burdened. He too was hurt and haunted.

“I was too late.” His jaw tightened. “I was too fucking late, and I couldn’t stop them.”

Jesus. The look in his eyes was nothing short of guilt, remorse…blame. I would have been a fool if I didn’t see it. For the first time, I could see past the hard exterior he wore so well, and I saw a man who hated himself. Blamed himself. God knew, I blamed him too. While I thought she was dead, I blamed him, while I blamed myself as well. But now, right here in this moment, my heart broke. Not for Neon. Not for me. But for him.

“How did you find her?” I never took my eyes off him, but he abruptly let go of me and stepped back.

“They tossed her outside the club doors.”

“What?” I narrowed my eyes, confused. “Why? You didn’t give me up, so why did they give her back?”

Suddenly, Granite seemed off kilter, shifting from one leg to the other. “It doesn’t matter.”