Page 32 of Psycho Sinners

I leaned against the cool stone wall, the jets a welcome pressure on my aching body as I swallowed through the tightness of my throat.

How had I wound up in this godforsaken mess?

I closed my eyes, holding my throat as my eyes welled.

Stay strong. You can do this. You’ve survived this far in life.

I stood at Tyrone’s window, wearing the clothes he gave me earlier, twirling my engagement ring. I’d hoped for my lighter, but my dirty clothes from the bathroom had vanished, and I wondered if Julian had moved them in that small time-frame while I’d been alone with Cristian.

The tinting on the windows meant no one down below would see me. Of course the mafia men would have insane tinting. It was likely bullet-proof too, so there was no smashing a window to escape.

Besides, running wasn’t an option. I just had to survive this.

I glanced around Tyrone’s room, at the almost hospital-grade cleanliness of it all. There was no real sense of another human in this room, save for the bookshelf jammed with what looked like action thriller books. Was the big burly man an avid reader? Or was it all for show? To give their non-consenting guests a false sense of comfort that these men were actually human?

I’d already rummaged through his closet, which was far too neat and on point, not a single suit or shirt out of place, the shoes lined up perfectly. The drawers had held no secrets, and I contemplated busying myself with trying to figure out the combination on the safe in there. Would there perhaps be a weapon in it?

The thought of shooting dead these three men was welcome, but it would get me into a hell of a lot of hot water. Was it water I was willing to swim in?

Outside, a few joggers made their way along the river, and one woman walked her overly rambunctious golden retriever, who was yanking on his lead like he was walking her.

I never should have dated Tom. I should’ve just gotten a damn dog. I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for him.

No, I wouldn’t be in this mess if I knew how to behave like a normal fucking person. Normal people didn’t burn down buildings.

I moved to climb onto the bed, finding it far too soft and comfortable. I wanted to take painkillers for my throat, but there was no way in hell I was going to go out to the kitchen and rummage through the pantry. If I could avoid the brothers, I would. I’d just move between here and the bathroom, drink water, and maybe sneak out for food if no one was home.

What a grand way to live, walking on eggshells.

Survive. I could do this. I just hoped Cristian didn’t leave me with any fresh scars by the time I was free.

I closed my eyes as I sprawled on Tyrone’s bed, far too aware of every creak and sound outside the room. My body ached, and I ran my tongue over the scab on my lip. It had started to bleed a little while Julian had face-fucked me, splitting back open with a vengeance. I hoped to God it would heal despite their assaults. I wasn’t dumb enough to think they wouldn’t be doing more of that.

I curled up into a ball, wishing I was on Noms’ couch instead, sharing a glass of wine as we watched some silly show, laughing at the stupidity of some people.

What was she up to now? Was I going to be allowed to make my phone call tonight? Or would it be tomorrow? Tyrone hadn’t exactly specified that.

Would anyone update me on Ray?

I tossed in the bed, my mind chaotic. I wanted to distract myself, busy my brain, so after a few more minutes of attempting to drift off to pass the time, I clambered from the bed and to the bookcase. I rifled through the books until I found one that sounded remotely interesting, and returned to the bed. Focusing on a book wasn’t going to be easy, but there was nothing else to do. No TV in this room, although the desk had held a few office supplies. Maybe I’d scribble or something, I’d liked drawing as I’d grown up, but had neglected it once I started working and being an adult.

It took some time before I was able to slip into the pages, my mind on edge, waiting for the door to fly open and one of the brothers to barge in.

To my surprise, I was left in peace right until I drifted off into a fitful sleep, book still in hand.

I awoke to a knock on the bedroom door, and it took me a moment to orientate myself. Right, prisoner to some sick men.

I let out a heavy sigh, my throat protesting and making me wince and touch it.

Another knock had me rising, and I attempted to call out, my voice coming out as a wheeze instead. Whatever, it’d have to do. I’d rather whoever it was didn’t come in, but I was not exactly calling the shots here.

Tyrone walked in, holding a paper bag as his eyes glossed over me.

“You’ve been keeping my brothers entertained?” he mused, and I scoffed, causing him to arch a brow.

“Well, here’s some food. No clue if you have allergies, so I got you a chicken one. There’s some soda in there too. We’re going to be moving you tonight.” His tone was not one to be questioned as he dumped the bag on the desk and glanced out the window.

“Where?” I croaked, and he sighed as he clasped his hands behind his back. Seeing him standing by the window, in that suit that oozed money, his stance screaming power, it made me shudder involuntarily.

---