Page 20 of Sinful Obsession

Vienna exhales slowly, her shoulders relaxing as she looks up at me. “Thanks,” she says quietly, her voice steady despite the tension. “But I only belong to Asmodeus.”

The mention of his name sends a ripple of something dark through me, but I push it down, nodding once. “Let’s get your food.”

We move through the line, and I notice how close she stays, as if my presence offers her some semblance of safety. It stirs something primal in me, a protective instinct I didn’t expect but can’t deny. Despite how strong she is, she isn’t prepared for the chaos that runs these halls. The orderlies and doctors aren’t the only ones to watch out for unfortunately.

As we settle at the table toward the back corner where we always sit, I keep a watchful eye on the room, sneering at anyonewho dares to let their gaze linger on Vienna for too long. She notices, of course, her laughter breaking the tension as she pats my hand.

“You don’t have to babysit me, Kaua,” she teases. “I can take care of myself.”

“Maybe,” I mutter, my hand closing over hers instinctively. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll let you.” Knowing that Michael has an interest in her makes it even harder to pretend that her presence isn’t doing something to me. He’s a devious force, maybe even more twisted than the stories I hear or have read about Asmodeus.

Vienna just shrugs as she stares down at the food gathered on her plate. She pokes at it with a fork but doesn’t eat it. Everyone hates the food when they first arrive but hunger usually overrides their pride when there’s nothing else to nibble on. Just as I’m about to tell her that she should eat something, the others step into the cafeteria, their presence commanding the room’s attention without effort.

15 – Vienna

The cafeteria feels like a void, the gray walls and sterile air pressing in as I sit at the table with the four horsemen. They’re larger than life, a strange mix of commanding presence and quiet discomfort, with a handful of lust sprinkled in. It’s like I’m sitting among predators who aren’t sure whether I’m a threat, prey, or something else entirely.

At this point, I’m not even sure what I am—if I’m even 100% human.

Ewan leans forward, his pale eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and something darker. “So, did you have fun spending the night with Vito?”

Heat floods my cheeks and I grab my fork, shoveling a mouthful of food into my mouth to avoid answering. Unfortunately, the consistency is revolting—somewhere between paste and glue—and my body rejects it immediately. I open my mouth and let the mess fall back onto my tray, my cheeks flaming as the four of them erupt into laughter.

“That bad, huh?” Kaua rumbles beside me.

“You get used to it,” Nevan says with a smirk, though there’s no real humor behind it. “Eventually.”

I frown, pushing the tray away. “I’ll starve for a few weeks. It’s fine.”

The table goes quiet, and I realize too late that I’ve said the wrong thing. Their gazes sharpen, their unease palpable. Nevan leans forward, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Starving won’t get you out of here,” he says softly. “Nothing will.”

“I know. Michael explained that but it doesn’t mean that—” I ask, my voice wobbling.

Nevan gestures subtly to the room, his eyes scanning the other patients. “Briarwood isn’t a place you leave, Vienna. It’s not about proving you’re sane. It’s not about getting better. Once you’re here, you stay here. For most of us, there’s no way out. The way out for us is starting the apocalypse and before you arrived, we had no fucking clue how to open that door.”

“So, you would have just rotted in here forever?”

“Possibly,” he replies, his tone almost casual now, as if he’s grown numb to the reality. “Look around. Do you see anyone who doesn’t belong here?”

I do as he says, my gaze drifting across the room. The patients don’t look like the stereotypical image of people in a mental facility. They’re calm, quiet, composed. They could be sitting in a college cafeteria, except for the white scrubs and the lack of color in the room itself.

“Most of them don’t even claim to be human,” Nevan continues, his voice low but clear. “They’ll tell you they’re demons, mythical creatures, shifters, gods. The staff doesn’t care. They just keep them here, feed them, and let them exist.”

“And me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “What do they think I am?”

Vito chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “You’re the anomaly. You don’t profess to be anything. You’re just a woman who sees a demon.”

This is the first time I’m seeing everyone and it’s appalling to see how young most of the patients are—in their 20s and low 30s at best. One of them looks barely old enough to be 18. But none of them are yelling about their existence, trying to push back against any of the orderlies. They’re just here, existing.

It’s terrifying.

Ewan reaches forward and taps the table to grab my attention. “They’re all medicated, led to believe that what they think are lies. Most of them live in that safe haze, the one that tells them this place is here to make it better and then there’s the rest of us who knew the truth and refuse to play it safe.”

I’m about to ask about the medication when the temperature in the room shifts, dropping several degrees. The low hum of conversation dies down, Michael stepping into the cafeteria. He strides into the room in a black suit, his hands clasped behind his back, flanked by the two women who were with him yesterday. His presence feels like a storm, dark and suffocating, and I can’t stop the way my body reacts.

My breath catches and I start to tremble, my hands curling into fists as every instinct screams at me to run. I hate him—hate him more than I can explain in this moment—and it’s as if my entire body is trying to reject his very existence.

Michael’s gaze sweeps the room before landing on me. He makes his way to our table, the crowd parting for him like the sea. By the time he reaches us, I’m shaking so badly I can barely sit still. Not even Kaua’s gentle touch on my back is helping me stay calm.

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