Page 59 of Ethereally Redeemed

Emilio Ricci, the man who took me to Dankworth Institute, promising the authorities that I’d be in “good hands.” Good hands, my ass. He corrupted me, twisted my mind until this disease inside me burrowed deeper than it physically could. Abandonment, instability, impulsiveness, and emptiness—he amplified them all, day by day. His so-called therapy sessions were not meant to heal; they were designed to unleash the monster within me, to corrupt my mind beyond recognition. The past shapes us, and when you’re trapped with no escape, it sinks its claws until it’s all you can see.

That was when my little doll came in to save me.

Seeing Emilio standing before me now, after all the time without him, those feelings of rage and insanity overwhelm me, turning my vision into a cloud of red.

“Oh, how disappointed I am in both of you,” he tsks, a sardonic smile plastered on his cracked lips.

How I’d love to rip that smile off his face, to see him bleed, and make sure he never has the chance to speak again.

He’s clad in the same uniform he always wore at Dankworth Institute, his hair slicked back and eyes hard as stone. The furywithin him is tangible, shaking the room with its force. Little does he know, the rage within the confines of my bones is even stronger, and the monster he created in my soul is seeking blood.

It craves it like a vampire needs to feed.

All I can think of is that I need to shield my little doll from Emilio’s view, so I take a step in front of her. But I know it’s futile—there is nothing that can protect us from the devil standing by the threshold. We’re stuck with no way out.

My hand slowly reaches for the gun in my back pocket, but I know I can’t fire it yet until I’ve assessed the situation outside.This is it. I have to kill him now that I’ve finally got a deadly weapon.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible, but there’s a strain in my voice that barely hides the anger and dread.

“I couldn’t very well let my two favorite patients wander off all by themselves, could I?”

Naya takes a shuddering breath. “Leave us.”

Emilio lets out a cackling sound, dark and twisted as it slithers inside me like a serpent. “I see the months free from the clutches of my institute have made you a rather vicious little thing,” he muses, tilting his head.

In my periphery, Naya’s shoulders tighten, her body reacting as if she’s an insect under a magnifying glass. The dread I feel for her carves a void in my organs, and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to fill it again. For there, before us, stands the man that captured us both. He who set the whole plan in motion the moment he decided to work with the Grimhill brothers.

“This can only end one way,” Emilio says, his voice a low threat.

I had forgotten how much I hated to look into his eyes—those dark depths that seem to have no ending, only a dark eternitystretching forever.

My fists clench so hard my knuckles turn white. “I can only think of one ending,” I muse. “Let us get up and this will be a fair fight.”

We need to get out of this suffocating basement; only then will we be able to take him out. I’ve beaten him before—until the guards had to pry me off and throw me into the padded room—so I know it’s possible to end his life. I couldn’t kill him at Dankworth Institute with the guards and cameras in every hall, but out in the middle of nowhere, no one will know it was us. By the time they’ve figured it out, we will be far from this goddamn country with brand new identities.

Emilio raises an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his face for just a split second before it vanishes into thin air. He steps aside, much to my surprise, freeing the way for us to leave the basement.

“I wouldn’t call it a fair fight, considering you are two against one.”

“Grey…” Naya whispers in warning beside me. I know unease flickers in her gut, much like it does mine. “This feels too easy,” she continues, but I decide to ignore her words.

“Fair enough. You’re an old man, after all, one who can’t stand on his own.”

Is it stupid to poke the bear? Yes, but I can’t care less. My veins pulsate with the need for violence. A smirk tugs at my lips as I lend Naya a hand, helping her out of the basement with Emilio watching us like a hawk a few steps away.

I know I should think rationally, but I’m too far gone within my own head to do so. The moment I step onto solid ground, leaving the musty basement behind to rot, the cold wind tugs at my hair, and the trees whistle as debris flies around the wreckage of the house. I glance around, searching for any sign of other people, but it’s just us and the ruins.

Naya is like a ragged doll beside me, unmoving and torn, but there’s a firing determination in her gray and brown eyes that wasn’t there before.

Emilio sneers at her. “You used to be so obedient—a perfect doll for Arthur’s collection. But you just had to ruin it, hadn’t you?”’

I watch the moment anger rolls through her, her teeth gritting so hard I hear it. “It waslovelyburning the legacy down, along with the master of the house.”

Emilio’s eyes darken. “So you admit you burned down the dollhouse?”

“You know it,” she says, staring at him, waiting for that strike I know should come.

Taking a step forward, Emilio maneuvers over ruined planks, his polished shoes dirtied with mud. “You see, you just admitted to burning down the house, which is enough evidence for me and my men to take you back to the institute in the rights of the law.”

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