Page 192 of Twisted in Obsession

Arrow grins. “I hope you don't forget about this, Jer. I won't let you ever forget.”

In Arrow speak, that's a threat. He's relaying to me that I fucked up. And I get it. I did. I snuck behind all their backs and took something we were supposed to share. But can’t they see I did it to ultimately protect her from what was to come?

Maybe not. I sigh, hanging my head when the sound of water and moans fills the air. They seriously can’t be fucking her again. Can they?

“Fuck, Shepp,” Journey’s moans echo out of the bathroom and straight into my ears.

Yeah, they are fucking again.

Wonderful for them. Shitty for me. I suppose I’ve learned my lesson, then.

Journey exits the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy robe. Her wet curls slightly bounce as she makes her way to me, standing before me. Her gaze eats me up as I rest in the stupid chair.

“He gave me the key to your cuffs,” she says, holding it up so the moonlight reflects off the tiny, metal key.

“Are you contemplating leaving me here?” I question, tilting my head.

“Possibly,” she says with a shrug. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“More than you could ever know,” I murmur.

She hums to herself when she reaches down and undoes the restraints on my ankles and then moves to my wrists. As soon as she turns the key on both sets of restraints, they fall away. My muscles instantly shriek in pain when I stiffly move and stretch my limbs.

“Then you should come to bed,” she says softly, setting the key on the nightstand. Journey watches me cautiously when she sits on the edge of the bed, eyeing my movements.

“I vow to you that I will never do something like that behind your back again. You’re my wife, after all,” I say, wringing out my wrists and standing from the chair I wish to break into pieces.

Something I’ll do later.

“Well, you should start by getting on your knees and explaining why I was promised to you already, Husband,” she hisses with a huff, crossing her arms. “What the hell is going on? Why?” She shakes her head, rolling her lips in. “I just don’t fucking understand this.”

“Welcome to our world,” I say, dropping to my knees and crawling to her. “Where you have to expect the unexpected. But tit for tat, Wife. What exactly did you mean my father had you spy?” I know the answer. It’s something I’ve felt in my gut for a long time but have ignored. My aching arms wrap tightly around her waist, and I set my head in her lap, groaning when her fingernails scrape at my scalp. “I was eighteen when my father handed me your picture and said you’d be my wife.”

Her muscles stiffen. “So, I was sixteen.” Panic rests in her voice when I nod.

“When you disappeared,” I whisper, looking up into her eyes.

She gives me a sharp nod, not divulging any more details on why my father took her and tortured her for months on end.

“Let’s get you into bed,” I whisper, gently rubbing her waist.

She nods, climbing onto the bed and pulling back the sheets. “He used me to spy on his enemies.”

I nod once, indicating to her that I understand the pain in her voice. His enemies, big and small. Us. Once all my clothes are discarded on the ground, I crawl in behind her, holding her tight. Arrow and Shepp meander their way to the bed as well, climbing in on the other side of Journey.

“I see my Kitten set you free,” Arrow says with a yawn, resting his head on the pillow. His eyes flutter shut, and within a few seconds, he’s out like a light, softly snoring.

“Indeed,” I hum, burying my face into the crook of her neck, and we all drift off to sleep with the thoughts of our initiation ball on my mind.

Loud music echoes through the large ballroom, nestled deep in Viotto Tower. He runs every ounce of his operation from within these walls.

Hell, he even lives here.

Somewhere, in a fancy apartment. I’ve only been here once before—against my will. And it was to see the inside of his fancy dungeon basement while he taught me an important lesson on interrogating people who wouldn’t speak.

I blow out a breath. Being in his presence brings back horrid memories of my past, forcing me to relive them. My darkness tickles the back of my mind, aching to take the panic brewing in my gut. And I let it. One day, I’ll be able to live without the reminders of him and what he did to me. But that day is not today. Or maybe ever.

Perhaps, this is who I am now. Journey West—unrepairable, broken, and lost.

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