Page 56 of Tainted Serenity

“Yes, of course. Call me if you find her.”

Seconds later, the door closes slowly before it clicks shut, indicating that the lock has been set in place. Carefully, I peek out of my hiding place, still in fear of being caught by Arthur, but then relief comes as I see it’s only Daxton and I in here. Daxton gives me a pointed look.

“This is the second time I’ve saved your ass. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

He motions with his hand for me to sit down on the bed-like chair in the middle of the room, and I do as he tells me to. Nervousness makes my finger itch to pick on the blisters on my palm, and I give in to the urge when he isn’t looking at me. A silent voice in my head tells me that the skin needs to disappear from the blisters to smooth out the surface of my palm.

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

He lets out an audible sigh before he sits down in the chair by his desk, looking at me with that pointed look again. “Is this about what happened last week?”

I swallow before slowly nodding again, afraid of what his reaction might be. Silence falls over the room, and I clear my throat before I gather the courage to speak again.

“I saw Grey at the ball.”

There’s an invisible weight that wears dreary over the room, pressing down on everything in its presence as I watch Daxton’s jaw clench, becoming more protruding from the action. Something changes with his aura, as if his emotions shift entirely, and I look at him with a cautious gaze.

“The man you have asked for on multiple occasions?” Daxton asks, and I cannot help but notice the slight tic of his hand as if made out of irritation.

I can only nod my head while keeping track of his movements. “Arthur separated us, and I saw him for the first time in months last week. I haven’t heard a word from him since.”

Eyes can tell a lot, and Daxton’s ocean-blue gaze reveals different kinds of emotions. Anger is reflected in his narrowed eyes and clenched jaw, as if he is struggling to restrain his feelings from breaking out. This anger is tinged with a hint of jealousy, but I cannot decipher why. As seconds pass with only the dreary heaviness hanging over us, a subtle shift occurs over him. The anger recedes while a faint undercurrent of sadness emerges, and he closes his eyes before opening them again. He becomes hardened by a resolute determination.

As his eyes remain fixed on me, it feels as though he’s fighting with his inner self, hiding truths that words cannot express. I briefly wonder why his reactions vary so drastically whenever Grey’s name is mentioned.

Daxton approaches me, gently squeezing my arm with that determined expression on his face.

“I have seen far too many people getting hurt by the hands of Arthur,” he murmurs, a tilt of danger in his words. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “I want to help you.”

Confusion swirls in my mind, unsure of what he is talking about. “What? How?”

Daxton’s eyes soften, releasing his grip on my arm before stepping away.

“I will find a way for you to see Grey more often.” His eyes flicker to the door, and despite his sweet words, I cannot help but feel that there’s an ulterior motive to his actions. “I care about you, Naya. You remind me of a girl I once loved as my best friend. I haven’t shared my full background, and I’m not sure I can divulge the entire story. I came here after making a deal with the devil to save someone I once cared deeply about.”

He takes a deep breath, as if contemplating whether he should continue or not. I offer him a small, reassuring smile, curious to hear more.

“They coerced me into becoming a doctor here, threatened to send that person here if I refused,” he continues. “It was here that I met a girl, a doll just like yourself, who came to me every week for showers, and sometimes because she got hurt by the games. Over time, we became close. She helped me adapt to this bleak existence, cope with the changes in my life, and the torment I endured after arriving here. But then Arthur killed her. I won’t stand by and watch you suffer the same fate at his hands. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

The shock from his words renders me speechless as my mouth opens agape, my heart pounding wildly inside my chest like a frantic caged bird. An icy feeling crawls over my spine with an unsettling sensation that clings to my every nerve. I cannot help but feel like I’m unknowingly agreeing to something with ill intentions. Uncertainty gnaws at me, leaving me unable to tell if what Daxton says is true or if he has other intentions for Grey.

Then I look at Daxton again, realizing one thing. The silent and tortured soul within him is screaming from loneliness and pain, crumbling apart from underneath the hardened surface. I give him a nod, a faint smile playing on my lips as I agree to his words.

Even the most lonely and tortured people deserve love, forgiveness, and acceptance.

Chapter 23

Grey

Witnessing firsthand how brutaland cruel people can be is something that will forever be imprinted on my mind. I witnessed it with my parents when they did everything in their power to ruin my brother’s and my life, and then when my brother, whom I trusted, betrayed me.

Standing at the edge of a corridor, I glance around the corner at a room full of people. This looks like some type of cult—another unnerving example of the brutality that humanity is capable of. I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here. Inside, people of all genders whisper to each other while attempting to focus on the person leading this strange gathering.

I tuck the sharp blade bearing Arthur’s initials into my jeans pocket and pull up the hood over my head, covering my growing raven-red hair. A surge of relief courses through me, like ecstasy, at having the knife close by. It has been my only companion for weeks on end, a silent savior in situations where Arthur’s decisions could have easily cost me my life.

But most of all, it was the knife Naya touched with her hands, refusing to let me be alone when I killed the deceiving woman two weeks ago. I never expected to meet her there, doubted I would see her again, but there she was. She was fucking stupid for getting her hands bloodied for my sake, but the monster within my soul thrived on the pleasure of seeing her hurt and vulnerable. Like an animal licking their wounds, I eased her pain within her soul, and in return, she did the same.

I look out over the people again, now seeing that prestigious bitch Irene as she stands in the middle of the room, nails sharper than what is hygienic and heels way too high. She goes on my fucking nerves, and every time my eyes fall on her, that well-known rage simmers beneath my surface. From her mere posture, you can see how highly she thinks of herself, with hands behind her back and a gaze casting an air of authority over the room.

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