Page 59 of His Dark Cravings

Relief floods me, but it’s short-lived. The thought of sitting here, waiting, doing nothing, is unbearable.

“I want to come with you,” I say before I can talk myself out of it.

Xavier’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing. “No.”

“Please,” I beg, stepping closer. “Sable is one of us, Xavier. She’s part of your world, your dolls. You can’t just leave her. And neither can I. I won’t sit here and do nothing while she’s out there. Let me go with you.”

Winter raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my insistence. Xavier, however, looks like he’s considering it, his jaw working as he thinks.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says finally. “This isn’t a session in the dungeon. This is dangerous.”

“I know,” I say, my voice steady now, despite the fear clawing at my chest. “But I’m asking anyway. Let me go. Please.”

He stares at me for what feels like an eternity, then nods, though it’s clear he’s not happy about it. “You can come,” he says, “but you have to follow every order I give you. No questions, no hesitation. And Winter comes, too.”

Winter turns to him, her expression not changing, but she nods. “Got it.”

Xavier turns to me, his eyes hard. “Do you understand?”

I nod. “Yes.”

He steps closer, his voice dropping. “Good. Because once we walk out that door, there’s no going back.”

Chapter 19

Everly

The fluorescent lights above flicker like a dying breath as we step through the back door of the laundromat. Xavier leads the way, his broad frame cutting through the poorly lit corridor. Winter follows close behind, her movements eerily silent, while I trail last, my senses on high alert.

The stairs creak beneath our feet, each step seemingly growing louder. By the time we reach the bottom, the air tastes thick with cigarette smoke and cheap cologne. The sound of voices grows louder, punctuated by the sharp snap of cards and the clinking of ice in glasses. I'm so scared—What are we walking into? Will we leave alive?—but I push forward, my eyes fixed on Xavier’s back.

He pauses at the threshold of the room, his hand raised in a silent command for us to wait. Winter flattens against the wall beside me, her sharp eyes scanning the space ahead, while I strain to see past Xavier’s shoulder.

The room is nothing like the sterile laundromat upstairs. The walls are lined with rich, velvety drapes in a deep crimson that seems to soak up the light, and the floor is covered in black carpet that muffles the sound of our approach. In the center of the room, a circular poker table dominates the space, surrounded by men whose faces are obscured by the swirling clouds of smoke.

And then I see her.

Sable is on her knees, her body positioned like a trophy beside the man at the head of the table. Her face is swollen, one eye blackened, and a faint trickle of blood runs down her split lip. Her wrists are bound behind her back, her shoulders hunched in a way that screams of pain and submission. My breath catches in my throat as her head lifts, her hazel eyes locking onto mine for a fleeting moment before she looks away.

The man seated beside her is leaning back in his chair, a cigar clenched between his teeth. He’s impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit, his sleeves rolled up to reveal corded forearms inked with tattoos that curl like snakes around his skin. His dark hair is slicked back, revealing sharp, angular features, and his thick, bushy eyebrows are drawn into a perpetual scowl. But it’s his eyes that draw me in—utterly devoid of humanity. They gleam with a dangerous light as he takes a long drag of his cigar, exhaling a plume of smoke that curls like a challenge in the air.

We step into the room, drawing the man’s attention.

“Rico,” Xavier says, his voice low and smooth. “I hear you’ve got something that belongs to me.”

Rico smirks, the movement twisting his lips into a cruel, thin line. He gestures to Sable with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Oh, you mean this little broken doll? I wasn’t aware she belonged to anyone. Anyone worth noticing, that is.”

He's mocking Xavier, and I feel a surge of anger burn through me. But Xavier doesn’t flinch. Instead, he takes another step forward, his eyes locked on Rico.

“She’s mine,” he says simply. “And I’m here to take her home.”

Rico chuckles, a low, gravelly sound. He takes another drag of his cigar, his eyes never leaving Xavier’s face.

“Is that so? And what makes you think I’ll just hand her over?”

Xavier’s jaw tightens, a faint muscle flickering beneath his skin. “Because if you don’t,” he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous low, “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

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