Page 62 of Tainted Serenity

I offer him a cocky smirk, my gaze lingering on Naya and her flustered cheeks at having been caught in the moment. Leaning into her ear, I whisper with unwavering determination and affection, making a promise I will make sure to never break.

“We will find a way out of here. I promise you that, even if it’s the last promise I will ever make. One way or another, never forget that, my little one.”

Chapter 25

Naya

Stumbling through the halls,my heart loses its capacity to keep beating. My survival depends on this, but I don’t think I can do it anymore. It hurts to live, hurts to fucking fight demons that don’t even exist, not really. Though I refuse to die inside the place that condemned me to hell because that would be the greatest defeat.

It has been another week of torture, another deadly game where I was forced to sit and watch while two more women lost their lives in a brutal game of truth or dare. All the while the others seemed content, both relieved that they had survived but also glad that someone had died.

This dollhouse truly fucked everyone up, leaving no crumbs to be left. It all terrifies me deep inside, especially the fact that I have become accustomed to the horrors and pain during my three years in captivity.

God, has it only been three years? It feels as though my entire life has been confined to a cage with no escape.

My thigh throbs with pain as if someone has seared the flesh with a lighter, leaving it sizzling as I stumble forward, all because of a woman’s dare. A few hours after the game, Irene entered my room urging me to see the doctor, leaving no room for debate with her cold voice penetrating through my ears. Now, as I approach Daxton’s examination room, I clench my teeth while fighting to suppress the agonizing groans threatening to escape my mouth.

Somewhere behind me in the eerie corridor, something drips from a water pipe; the sound unsettling and making my paranoid mind believe Arthur is behind me. It echoes throughout the stone construction, seeking its way into my eardrums as I hurry forward. There’s no telling what Arthur might do if he finds me here alone, entirely vulnerable, like a wounded little lamb.

By supporting my body weight on the wall, I feel how cold it is to touch, and the wall scrapes against my palms. It takes longer than it should to reach Daxton, but I eventually make it, opening the door without knocking. I come to an abrupt halt, staring in front of me with widened eyes.

Inside, the conversation between the two men ceases, raising suspicion within me of what they talked about. My attention quickly shifts to the man closest to me. He’s dressed in black jeans and a white hoodie, sleeves casually rolled up, while leaning against the wall opposite the door. I notice the tattoos winding across his arms, the most prominent being that of flames surrounding an eagle hiding a scar I finally know the story of.

It doesn’t take long before I have managed to stumble across the room, throwing my arms around Grey’s neck and not caring how pathetic I look. His muscular arms skate over my body, dragging me closer to him before his hand lands on my hip and his eyes meet mine. He scans me from head to toe, a dangerous tilt to his head as he observes me with a glint of concern.

“What the fuck happened?” he demands in a harsh tone.

Yet, despite the rough exterior, there’s a softening to his gaze. That’s the thing about Grey; he may come across as tough and indifferent, but deep down, he cares more than he’d like to admit. He stares down at me with an intensity that burns me from the inside, and I swallow harshly, looking back at him in an attempt to assure him.

“I’m okay.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Naya,” he retorts with a tone that makes my insides flutter despite the situation.

“What happened?” Another male voice chimes in from behind, and I turn to find Daxton approaching.

Daxton reaches out for me, but Grey’s demeanor changes, and the possessiveness practically oozes out of his pores, creating a strange yet tantalizing sensation within me. Grey’s grip on my waist hardens, as if proving to Daxton that I am Grey’s. Not as if he didn’t already get the memo when Grey made me orgasm multiple times inside Daxton’s room last week, wanting me to moan loudly so Daxton would hear and know who I belong to.

Grey looks into my eyes with a warning, letting me know I shouldn’t lie again. With an audible sigh, I respond. “Their games.”

“Fuck,” Daxton curses, and I catch Grey leveling him a glare that would make my insides freeze if it was pointed at me.

“Where does it hurt?” Daxton asks, switching to doctor mode while he carefully scans my body.

“My thigh was slashed by some bitch,” I reply while trying to keep my composure, noticing a smirk tugging at Grey’s lips from my last word.

“Let me take a look,” he offers, and I give him a nod.

Grey’s grip on my hip tightens, his fingers pressing against my skin as if he is unwilling to let me go. It’s as if a tangible force emanates from him while his shoulders stiffen, his body asserting a dominant aura, all in the act of claiming me in front of Daxton.

Meanwhile, the throbbing pain in my thigh refuses to relent and instead threatens to overwhelm me. I start scratching my wrist furiously, needing an outlet for the pain.

“Enough with the fucking alpha-hole bullshit,” I hiss at them both.

Without giving Grey another choice but to let me go, I move toward the examination chair. I sit down, and the dizziness slowly dissipates, though the pain remains and is enough to make me clench my jaw. I grit my teeth, hiking my dress above my waist to give Daxton access to inspect my thigh. All the while, I maintain eye contact with Grey, wordlessly conveying that while his overly possessiveness is not ideal, there’s still a part of me that loves it. I cannot help the blush that creeps up my cheeks as I lay down my back against the cold surface of the chair, remembering when Grey worshipped my body in ways only he could last week.

Another smirk plays on his lips as he looks at me, his arms crossed, while the hoodie stretches taut against his muscular upper chest and showcases his delicious veins.

“It’s nothing a cleaning and bandage won’t fix,” Daxton says after moments of silence, not aware of the sexual tension crackling in the air between Grey and me. “And painkillers,” he continues, handing me a pill that I gratefully accept before swallowing it down.

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