Page 83 of Entombed In Sin

I remember being flung around the back of the car and vaguely when I went sailing out of it and hitting the cement. Yes, the accident was bad. But the Hunt twins are an unstoppable force.

My heart clenches so painfully in my chest that I can’t breathe. Sweat begins to bead over my skin. They can’t be dead.Pleasedon’t let them be dead. I’ll give the devil a thousand souls in return for theirs. Fuck it, I’ll fight the devil himself if that means keeping the twins. This can’t be happening. They’re not fucking dead. I don’t have to fight some fictitious red guy with horns. They’re alive, they’realive,they’re AL?—.

“Knox?” Beatrix calls softly, her voice pulling me out of my spiraling. “Please tell me you’re ok.”

Lifting my head, I look over at Beatrix. Her body, littered with cuts and bruises, trembles with fear but her eyes are locked on my face. Her expression is twisted with fear, but there’s also an anxiousness there. She’s concerned, not just for herself, but for me as well.

I take a deep breath to steady myself. Losing the twins would be devastating. But I could survive it. As painful as the loss would be, I have an anchor to this world. As long as I have Beatrix, I could wake every day and find a reason to crawl out ofbed. Because of the twins, I have one more person in this world that loves me. Who loves meforme. I won’t take this gift for granted. Beatrix needs me to be strong and to stay focused, and for her, I will be.

“Yeah, I’m alright, Shining Starr,” I answer her firmly. “You?”

She stares at me for a long minute. I can’t tell what she’s thinking, and her expression doesn’t shift to give me any insight. Is she wondering if I’m lying? Is she mentally assessing her situation? Is she freaking out?

After a moment she nods. “Yeah.”

The sound of a door opening captures both of our attention. Beatrix flinches and falls silent, her wide eyes darting to the staircase. I follow her gaze and watch as a young woman comes into view and enters the basement holding a stainless steel tray in her hands. When I get a good look at her face I’m little… stumped.

“Who the fuck are you?” I ask, more curious than worried.

The woman doesn’t look much older than Beatrix, meaning she’s closer to my age. Her dress is modest, reminding me of something the Amish would wear. It covers her arms, legs, and neck. Her deep red hair is pulled up into a severe bun at the back of her skull and the splatter of freckles across her face is emphasized by the paleness of her creamy skin. She smiles at me. Rather than answer the question though, she turns her attention to Beatrix as she walks toward her.

“Please, let us go,” Beatrix whimpers.

“I can’t. Ineedyou, Miss Starr. You’re the answer to our prayers.” The woman’s voice is light, almost airy. I watch as she sets the tray down on a small rolling table and rolls an old leather stool between Beatrix’s hiked legs. When she sits, she blocks most of my view of Beatrix. All except for her face, which Ican see is twisted in terror. “Now, I need you to hold still. I don’t want to hurt you if I can help it.”

Huh, how considerate of a kidnapper. Thatcher, Sagan, and I make it a point tocausepain.

Beatrix shoots me a hopeful look before turning her attention back to our hostess. “Wait, if you don’t need Knox, why keep him here? Let him go, at least. Please? I’ll do whatever you want just?—”

“Shut up, Beatrix,” I snarl, my heart hammering in my chest once more. The thought of splitting up is worse than our current situation. No matter what happens, we have to stick together.

“That’s not up to me,” the woman says to Beatrix. “Ronny wants to keep him around. But I’ll see if I can make sure you have your friend with you through this journey.”

Licking my dry lips, I force myself to ask, “Forwhatjourney?”

The woman doesn’t look back at me or respond. It’s like she’s pretending I don’t even exist. While not the typical response to my presence, it’s not exactly atypical either. Some people see things that make them uncomfortable and just turn a blind eye. I’m one of those things.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Beatrix presses in a soft voice. “Are you going to kill us?”

I’m not afraid of death. Not for myself, at least. It’s just what happens. Like breathing or whatever. I only fear death when it comes to losing the people I love. Because I can’t bear to be in a world on my own again. It’s just too painful a thought. I won’t let this woman kill Beatrix. She has to go on. I can’t be in a world, even temporarily, without some sort of foundation like she and the Hunt twins have given me. I won’t survive it. I don’twantto survive it.

The woman shakes her head. “No! This is nothing bad, I promise. We need you unharmed and healthy.” She scoots closerin between Beatrix’s raised legs. “I mean that, Miss Starr. Don’t fret. We can’t have you all stressed out, or none of this will work.”

“Whatwon’t work?” Beatrix demands, trying—and failing—to scoot her body away from the woman who lowers a strange looking contraption between her legs. The stranger’s body blocks what she’s doing, but suddenly Beatrix cries out and arches her back.

“Stop touching her!” I snarl, yanking my wrists down in an attempt to slip free of the shackles. Nothing happens. “Come over here and fuck with me, but leave her alone!”

Beatrix sucks in a sharp breath, her eyes scrunching closed. The woman reaches for something else and the object disappears between Beatrix’s legs. Beatrix whimpers, then cries again in pain.

“Shh, I’m trying to be quick,” the woman says softly. “Please stop squirming. It’s only making it harder for me to find the string. I’ve never done this before, but I’ve been watching videos for the past few hours while Ronny got me the stuff we’d need for you.”

The woman’s shoulders move again and Beatrix sobs. Tears spill down her cheeks as she struggles to free herself.

I struggle against my own restraints, trying desperately to free myself and get to Beatrix. I get nowhere in the short time this stranger familiarizes herself with Beatrix’s vagina. When she’s done, the woman’s back straightens, and she returns the tools to the tray. Beatrix’s body sags back onto the table while she sobs softly.

“There, there, we needed to get your IUD out. According to the internet, there will be a little bleeding and then some cramping, but I’ll go get you some ibuprofen so it won’t be so bad,” the woman offers.

Before she can stand, the basement door opens again. The woman with us turns and beams in the direction of the heavy set of footsteps that descend the steps. The man that comes to a stop at the foot of the stairs has to be in his mid-sixties. His graying mustache is so thick and well maintained that I’m almost a little jealous. I can’t grow facial hair worth shit. He wears a plaid button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and old, worn overalls over his stocky frame. There’s a bit of a beer belly pushing his gut out, but I’ve seen worse. The man’s hands are shoved into his pockets, and he rocks back on his heels as he looks around the room with a mild interest. His gaze lands on me for a moment before it shifts to the two women on the other side of the basement.

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