Page 30 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

Let them go,I thought.It doesn’t matter. I’ll get their names.

Pete was saying something about how she’d consented, signed a contract, and all kinds of other bullshit, but I whirled around and hit him in the side of his ribs with my fist. He clutched at his side and shouted at me.

I knelt down in front of Rachel. She was shivering, her teeth chattering and her eyes dilated.

“I didn’t—He didn’t—”

“I know. Let’s get you out of here. Hold still.” I cut the cuffs and the collar off with my knife, and then the cuffs around her ankles from the spreader bar. Holding her under her arms, I guided her onto her feet, wrapped my jacket around her shoulders, and escorted her out as quickly as I could.

Pete was shouting about something, but I blocked him out until I got Rachel safely in my car. After shutting the door, I turned around and strode back into the house, shoving him out of my way. There were some advantages to being a big man; Pete had nothing on my size. Nobody ever did.

Pete was extremely defensive, shouting about calling the cops for assault and trespassing, but I could tell he was drunk and I wasn’t even sure how much of this he would remember. I ignored him as I stalked through the house, looking for Rachel’s belongings. There wasn’t much she’d brought with her, but I knew she had some clothes and some possessions of hers that mattered to her. In the bedroom that had clearly been hers, I gathered up her things and shoved them in her bag. But I also found something that sent a cold stab through my gut.

On the wall were posters of planets and galaxies. The closet door was decorated with foam cut-out letters that said “Brat Stash.” And in the corner of the room, a medium-sized telescope sat pointed at the open window. On the side were glittery letter stickers that spelled out “Bratscope.”

“What is that?” I asked, pointing at it.

“That was my slave’s. She left all her shit here when she ghosted me.”

“Did you break her hard limits, too?” I shouted. After seeing what he’d done to Rachel, I knew I’d never trust a word that came out of his mouth again.

“I didn’t do anything she didn’t beg me for! She asked me, Reuben, I swear!”

“Peter Woodrow I swear on my mother’s grave, if I find out you’re lying, I will destroy you.”

The words seemed to practically jump out of my mouth. Before I could think too much about what I was doing, or what it meant, I snatched up Rachel’s bag and slung it over my shoulder. Grabbing the telescope, I cradled it in my arms as I walked out the door.

Icalled Becca on myway home and told her why I wasn’t coming to the party and asked her to keep it to herself. When I mentioned I was going to take Rachel back to The Weston House, Rachel stopped me.

“Please don’t,” she spoke up, her voice borderline panic. “Not like this. I... I don’t want the others to see me like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“If they find out you sent me somewhere, and I come back looking like this, they’ll never trust you. Especially the new girls. Please, sir, take me somewhere else.”

“Becca... I’ll call you back,” I said, and hung up. I was on the highway and was nearing the exit for my own home. “Rachel, I can take you to my place for a few days, if you’d prefer that. But I’m leaving in a few days, so you’d be on your own. I don’t think that would be good for you.”

She hung her head and wrung her hands. “Okay, just let me stay with you tonight? Please?”

“Alright.” I nodded, and took the exit. “I’m so sorry, Rachel. I had no idea... He’s never... I’ve known him for years. I didn’t think–”

“It’s okay, sir. I just need some time. Thank you for rescuing me.”

“I don’t deserve your thanks... or your trust.”

“Well,” she pulled my jacket tighter around her and sat up straight. “You still have it. You’ve never broken my confidence, and you rescued me. Twice.”

Back at my house, I let her take a bath in the master bathroom, which was a bit more luxurious than the ones in the guest rooms. She came out a while later looking refreshed, but still shaken. I tucked her into the guest bed and knelt on the floor by the side of the bed and held her hand while she spoke, as we used to while she was still in therapy.

She slowly spoke through the different scenarios he’d put her through; first he’d pushed her on bondage, saying leather cuffs didn’t really count, and how she felt pressured to agree because he seemed so nice. “It wasn’t bad at all,” she said. “I liked it. It was just fun. It actually made me less afraid of what I’ve been through... but then it was like he snapped.”

She recounted how he’d broken their agreement on bondage by using cuffs, then handcuffs. Then he’d added ropes, then eventually restrained her and told her he wanted to do an impact scene. When she’d refused, he had gagged her and told her that he would change her mind.

“He punished me for nothing,” she said, her voice weak, a tearful smile on her face. “Like my old owners used to. He’d punish me just because he felt like it.”

“Rachel. I’m so sorry.”

“He kept talking about her,” she said. “He called her ‘little ghost.’ But sir, I think she ran away because he hurt her.”

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