Page 88 of The Devil's Den

I’m on top of him in an instant, and I let the knife fall across his flesh like it’s possessed, like it needs his pain for survival, as much as I do.

“Tell me!” I roar as the blade slices across his cheek, his forehead. “Fucking say it! Where are they?”

He fights it—the desire to tell me what I need to know. He fights it with every cut, every slice of his skin until he can’t fight anymore. Until his blood is all he sees around him.

Drip.

Drip.

It dances like the rain, slowly trickling from the slashes on his thighs, his calves. Anywhere I can hurt him, I do.

“I—” he stammers. “I—I’ll—I’ll tell you. Fuuuuck.” He cries real tears.

“Better do it quick.” The tip of the knife nears the spot under his chin, raising his face to mine, nicking him.

“You’re gonna kill me anyway,” he breathes, trying to mask the pain, but it shows. He can’t hide from it. “S-s-so why should I help you?”

“Because if you don’t”—I push the knife deeper—“I’m going to hurt you for weeks, killing you slowly. At least if you tell me, I’ll kill you faster.”

He coughs to catch his breath. “If I didn’t hate your family, I’d actually like you.”

“I won’t take that as a compliment.” I stand straight. “Address. Now.”

With a deep inhale, he speaks. “Carlito, his…” He coughs… “His family owns a factory. They’re there.” He gives me the address and I keep repeating it in my head so I don’t forget it.

Running over to the weapons, I pack them up, grabbing the handle of the bag as I head for the stairs.

“A-at-at least I let you piss in a bucket,” he calls when I’m a few steps up. “Wha-what will I do if I gotta go?”

“Piss yourself.” I’m out the door, hoping I’m not too late to save her.

* * *

AIDA

“Such a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Ethan hisses, grunting while inside me.

“Get off, it’s my fucking turn.”

“I’m not done yet.” He pumps faster as he robs me of my dignity, taking something that doesn’t belong to him. I close my eyes, wishing to die.

It’s been hours of this, using me whenever they see fit, while her body is still on the floor.

Pale. Dead.

Ava.

Is there someone who misses her? Will they ever know what happened?

The ache behind my eyes comes swiftly the more I look at her face—too young to die when she never even lived.

Am I next? Will they kill me after they’re done using my body? Maybe it’s better if I do die, then I could be with Matteo. At the thought of his name, there’s a clenching in my chest.

The raw anguish. It’s too much. The space he once filled in my heart, now devoid of anything at all, the pain from his loss bound to my soul like a tattoo.

I attempt to recall every second of our last few moments. What he said. How he looked. But it all flies by in a flash and I can’t quite seem to grasp it. Every inch of me fights to remember him—everything about every single moment of our life together, from when I first saw that little boy, his eyes grasping mine as he lay on that gurney bleeding, to the man who has grown to show me what love truly is.

He owns me. Even in death.

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