Page 69 of Ramsay

After a while, we stop, and I blink when the doors open again, the harsh light too bright against the darkness of my vision.

“Let’s go,” Oliver rasps, pulling me toward the door.

“Where?” I ask through rusty lips, but he ignores me.

When I look up at the stately facade of Ramsay’s home, I groan, “Just take me fucking home.”

“Nope,” Diem says, and I grab for the car door, sure in my temporary insanity that remaining in the vehicle is the better bet.

When Diem sighs, I twist around and sneer, “Fuck you.”

His brows jump before he grabs me up and crosses the threshold, dropping me to the floor.

Wearily, I straighten, acknowledging that where we are doesn’t matter because it’s who we are that gets us in the end.

I’m led back to the room I believe to be Ramsay’s and of course, he appears, leading me into the bathroom straight away, before turning on the spray, and muttering, “Get undressed.”

Turning away from his burning gaze, I pull at my dress, flinching under his derisive laugh because we may have fucked, but I refuse to take off my bra and underwear, feeling caught out and exposed already.

He steps back but doesn’t comment beyond his censure, watching until I step inside and huddle under the warm spray, before he barks, “Sober up.”

Thankfully, he walks away, leaving me to my misery and although the water is warm, I shiver under the weight of my misdeeds. I wish it was as easy as allowing the water to cleanse me of my sins, but nothing is ever that simple and I’m pulled back to the night that changed everything.

Much of it is a blur because as usual I was stoned out of my mind. Jagger dragged me around to a bunch of his hot spots, that much I do recall. From there, it’s a complete blank until I woke up in a room, surrounded by blood.

So much blood. I’ll never forget the coppery taste that coated my tongue and stung my nose. The slippery sensation of the fluids sliding along my skin. The floor. The walls. The fucking door, all covered in a sea of death.

When I sat up and stared at the crimson shade covering me from head to toe, at first, I didn't understand. That is, until I turned and found the achingly still body beside me. Confused, I scrabbled away, my back hitting the wall as a whimper escaped me.

What happened? Where was I? And where was the killer who so brutally killed the man staring at the ceiling with lifeless eyes.

I don’t know how much time passed before I inched away from the wall and glanced down at the object clenched tightly in my hand. A knife. I was holding a knife.

Once again, my world went black and when I came out from under the fog, I was in a hospital bed. Too frightened to ask, I didn’t say a damn thing and when no one mentioned the dead man, I didn't either.

To this day, I don't know who he was. I only know, there were only two of us in that room and I lived to tell the tale.

Only when my skin is puckered from standing under the spray, do I emerge, shivering as I dry off and pull my dirty dress over my head. The walk down memory lane left me exhausted but I’m not done with this wretched evening yet.

Whatever the reason for the Sinners intervention, they’re still the guys who threaten me at every turn.

Once bitten, twice shy, as they say.

The room is empty when I emerge and grab up my phone, only to wince when I see the missed calls and texts from Jagger. I guess he’s lived to see another day, too. Pity.

Still nothing from my parents and I suspect I’m here because Bone spilled the beans.

My only other option is a rideshare, but Diem plucks the phone from my fingers as I’m opening the app, making the decision for me.

“C’mon,” he says before stalking from the room.

Clearly, he expects me to follow because he doesn’t bother to look back, which of course, I do. I have no choice without my phone.

He leads me to the study where Ramsay flayed me open and left me bleeding not too long ago. Holding my breath, I stand at the door, facing off against the three grim-faced assholes while I fight the shivers still racking my body.

Surely this is unfair because I have no energy for whatever is coming next.

“I’d like my phone back,” I say, projecting a calm I don’t feel.

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