Page 60 of Toy

14

Jolie

“I thoughtwe might find him here. Shame about Danny, though.”

My father sighed as he glanced down at the two motionless bodies on the floor. I sank to my knees, sobbing and cradling Mason’s bleeding head.

“How did you know he’d be here?” someone asked, ignoring my pitiful cries.

“Jolie mentioned something to me a couple of days ago. Said he wouldn’t stop until he found her. I wasn’t too worried, but I thought I’d call our friends in America and have them check up on him just in case. Lo and behold, I discovered he’d booked a ticket to Costa Rica. I didn’t think he’d actually be able to find us out here, but then one of the other men overheard a child saying she saw the Devil earlier—a man with one normal side and one messed up side. I knew it was the bastard right away.”

“How’d he find us?”

“No fucking idea.”

Someone aimed a sharp kick at my ribs. I keeled over, letting out a winded grunt.

“How did Mason find us?” my father asked, crouching down and staring at me with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know,” I choked out, clutching at my aching abdomen.

“Was he alone?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Good.” My father stood up again. “He isn’t dead, is he?” he asked one of his cultist cronies.

One of the men leaned down and pushed me aside so he could check Mason’s pulse. “No, sir. He’s just unconscious.”

“Good. I want him alive for now.” My father nodded crisply. “Tie him up and take him outside. And you two—grab her.”

Two men stepped forward and dragged me to my feet. “No!” I screamed, trying to dig my feet into the floor to stop them from moving me. “Don’t hurt him!”

“You should be more concerned about yourself,” my father hissed in my ear as he grabbed me by the collar of my bloodstained dress. He tilted his face toward the men who’d taken hold of my arms. “Take her to the square and build up the pyre. I think it’s time we had ourselves a bonfire.”

My eyes bulged as my breaths turned short and raspy with terror. “You said I had until Sunday!” I cried.

“That was before your boyfriend showed up and tried to ruin things for us again,” he replied, eyes glittering with malice. “I’m not risking it anymore. You both die tonight.”

“No!” I shrieked and kicked my feet out as two other men tied Mason’s hands behind his back and dragged him toward the door. “You can kill me, but please… let him go!”

“You must be joking.” My father scoffed and waved a hand at his subordinates.

The sound of my heartbeat thrashed in my ears as the men pulled me out of the cabin and dragged me toward the tall wooden pole that stood on one side of the square. The area was filling up with people already—men, women and children who’d come out to see what was causing all the commotion.

Some of the young women flashed me sympathetic looks, but none of them moved a muscle to help me. I didn’t blame them. I used to be one of them. I knew exactly what it was like to know something was deeply wrong yet remain quiet and motionless for fear of incurring the same punishment. It wasn’t their fault.

The men kept pulling me along, feet dragging against the stony ground with every step it took to get me to the stake. Adrenaline flooded my system as they forced me to step onto a small granite platform right in front of it. Then they turned me around and shoved my back against the wooden pole, quickly lashing my hands to it with thick rope.

My heart felt like it might explode and my eyes were wide with fear. Not only for myself, but for Mason too. The other men had brought him out here on my father’s command, and they’d propped him up against a wooden bench facing the stake. His hands were still tied behind his back and the side of his face was coated with blood.

Someone kicked him, but he didn’t stir. Saliva thickened in my throat as beads of sweat trickled down my brow, and I almost vomited as I imagined what the men had in store for him when he finally awoke. He’d put himself in so much danger to try and save me, and now he was paying the ultimate price.

“I’m sorry,” I called out, hoping he’d somehow hear me despite his lack of consciousness.

“As you should be,” my father said, clasping his hands together as he stared at me from the side of the square.

I didn’t bother responding. There was no point, and he wasn’t worth it.

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