Page 73 of Wicked Deceit
Trent grins, setting the trunk on the floor with a thud. “It’s done.” He smiles more, opening the small chest.
“Mmm, good,” Piper purrs, running a hand down his chest. “You’re a good boy, Trent. Maybe I’ll recommend you next. Once January comes, someone else will take her place.”
“Fuck that!” Oscar yells, gripping me harder. “I’ve been in this longer than he has. I’ve killed more than he has. I’m next, Alpha!” My eyes widen when Piper smiles at her call name, and I nearly sputter. Alpha. It was her all along delivering the tasks the others inflicted on me.
Closing her eyes, she sighs. “Indeed you have, Delta,” she purrs again, sauntering toward him with the sway of her hips. “I’ll recommend you both. Delta and Panty Licker.” She giggles at Trent’s code name, making him frown.
“You lick panties one time—” he groans, covering his face. “No offense, Alpha, but we need to get a move on. The gasoline is soaking into the wood.” A wicked grin spreads across his face when he steps up to me, getting too close for comfort. I try to wiggle out of the way, but Oscar holds me tighter to his body, and my anxiety spikes. Between my boyfriends, I’m fine sandwiched between them. But these two? The ants crawl up my legs, and my skin sears like fire with every touch they give.
Grabbing hold of my chin, Trent forces my eyes to his. “Heya, Stupid. Benoit is currently drowning in gasoline. I slathered it all over his unconscious body. When he wakes—if he wakes—he’ll have a hell of a time getting out of here. The moment the flames meet his body, poof! Your precious lover boy will go up in smoke. And then I’ll track down your precious twins and do the same.” He grins more when tears cloud my vision, blurring the room into nothing but dark swirls.
Images of each of them dying at the hands of these assholes run through my mind. If they get hurt, it’s all my fault. I befriended them and brought them into what I know. If it weren’t for me, they’d be okay. But now, Trent will hunt them down and obliterate them for their knowledge.
“Leave them alone,” I cry out in desperation, stomping my foot into his.
A satisfying crunch happens beneath my stomp, sending a short-lived thrill through me. It doesn’t last long when he retaliates tenfold. He curses, throwing a punch into my gut, landing a solid hit on my abdomen. All the air evacuates my lungs, leaving me gasping and sputtering for precious oxygen I can’t seem to pull in. No matter how much I try, pain radiates through my stomach. Acid burns my throat, bubbling up my throat from the pain of the hit. The acidic taste boils over onto my tongue, and I spit it out into Trent’s grinning face, which falls the moment my spit hits him. Slowly with a scowl, he runs his hand down his face, flicking the spit off with one swish of his wrist.
Oscar holds me upright as I gasp, begging for the breath Trent stole from me. “They have nothing to do with this.” I hiss again. “They’re innocent! Leave them alone!” I do something I never thought I’d do. I beg for their lives.
“Oh, precious little Kaycee, they have everything to do with this. They intervened when they were told to back the fuck off...”
“Yeah, because I saved them,” I hiss back, breathless from the punch. “I saved them from your torment and blackmail. You’re all pieces of shit.”
Piper smiles sadly. “It’s too bad you weren’t on our side. Your skills are remarkable,” she coos like I’m a child, nodding her head once.
“I’d start saying your prayers. Better yet, start begging. Although, it won’t do much, babe.” Oscar growls in my ear, forcing my neck to the side.
“There’s nowhere for you to run, rabbit. Nowhere to hide...” Trent grins, bringing a large capped syringe out of his pocket. Flicking the cap off the tip, it surges towards the floor, quickly picked up by a giggling Piper.
I kick and scream until my throat burns. Nothing I do makes them stop. The last vision I have before they plunge the needle into my throat is their faces, smiling with evil dwelling in their eyes. The devils surround me.
As the poison works through my veins, I think of happy thoughts. My parents. My siblings. Chase. Seger. Zeppelin. Carter. Their words. Their love. It holds me together. Will I die tonight? Maybe. But I’ll die knowing I found the answers to my questions. Do I want to die? No. No, I don’t. I’ll fight tooth and nail no matter what.
I finally found out who killed Magnolia. Now I have to find out why.
My world blurs. Voices fall silent, and darkness takes me entirely as they stuff my body into the traveling trunk, and the lid closes over me.
Then nothing.
Ijoltupright,cryingout in pain when my forehead connects with something hard, cracking like a whip inside my skull—a sharp ringing blasts in my ears from the impact. Deep pain ricochets through my cheeks and forehead, and I try to bring my hands up towards my face to inspect the damage, but the only thing I’m met with is resistance.
I grunt, pulling again, but nothing happens. The only sound greeting my ears is the clink of whatever holds my hands in place and a cool metal biting into the skin of my wrists. I twist them around, wincing when pain rocks through me again. Bile sits in the back of my throat when my hands won’t move an inch, restrained by metal digging into me. If I can’t move my hands, I can’t move my body from whatever Hell I’m in. Goosebumps pucker on every inch of my flesh, raising the hairs on end. Every muscle turns to stone, and I sit stock-still. My breaths catch in the back of my throat. For some reason, I’m bound—handcuffed—chained to something. And my cast is magically gone. But where the hell am I? And what the hell happened to bring me here?
Agony hits me when I try to peel open my aching eyes. Blinking rapidly, I scan the brightly lit room. Heated spotlights point directly at me. I wince, momentarily blinded from the brightness after being unconscious for who the hell knows how long. I wince from the intensity of bulbs, trying to cover my eyes. Tears fill my eyes when blood seeps from around the metal cuffs encasing my wrists and drips onto the see-through glass beneath me.
My eyes screw closed, and I suck in frantic breaths, reeling myself in. Right now, I’m held together by safety pins and loose thread, threatening to unravel at any second. Everything hits me all at once, bashing heavily against my skull. Images break free, running through my mind rapidly. One after the other, without mercy. Piper. Magnolia’s e-mail. Trent laughing after he soaked Chase in gasoline and left him to die in a blazing inferno. My heart hammers in my chest at the thought of Chase going up in smoke and being nothing but ashes to mourn by tomorrow. More tears leak down my face, and hopelessness settles in. My head swims in a fog, and my lungs burn from lack of oxygen, but I have to get myself together and assess the severity of my situation.
One breath in. One breath out. Count to ten and do it again. I mentally chant to myself repeatedly as my bravery returns, and I turn to face my new Hell. No matter how hopeless I feel right now, I have to keep pushing through and fighting with all my might. I do this for the snuffed-out voices of the people who can’t speak up for themselves and tell the world what happened.
My eyes flutter open with hesitation, and I peer around the room. Gingerly, I pull at my restraints again, secretly hoping they’ll break despite my weak attempt at getting free. I knew they wouldn’t, deep in my gut, but I had to try one last time. If I’m stuck, then there’s no way I’ll get free. Deep aches form in every bone of my body, and my muscles contract in pain. Grunting, my nostrils flare, and I pull at my restraints with all my might. But it’s no use. I strain and strain, but nothing breaks through the sturdy handcuffs chained to a long pole in the center of the glass enclosure I'm in.
The handcuffs clink around the skinny metal bar, running up the human-sized glass enclosure they put me in. It reaches through the mesh lid of the enclosure into the ceiling and goes out the bottom into the ground.
Goosebumps pucker along my skin when I lean back into the cold glass of the human-sized fish tank they’ve stuffed me in. Reveling in the feel of the icy glass against my skin, I savor the cold penetrating my clothes rather than the pain ricocheting through my body. I need to take stock of where I am and look for any possible escape routes. If I had my pick lock kit I’d be out of here in no time, like a super spy. But it seems they took everything from me except my clothes.
From my viewpoint inside the glass prison, several television monitors with my face and body line the edge of the room. Every move I make, every sound and whimper plays back in front of me like crazy stalker shit. I can only imagine who watches on the other side, taking pleasure in my pain. I bet they’re laughing and soaking up the miserable expression lining my hollow-looking face. The only positive takeaway from this experience is they haven’t undressed me completely. They’ve left my t-shirt and leggings on. But they took my cast, white sleeve, and my socks.
My body folds over, gagging into the empty tank. A violent shudder runs through me at the thought of their unwanted hands on me—touching me and removing things from my body. I hold back my tears at the idea of them touching me anywhere they liked while I was knocked out cold.
