Page 195 of Sins of the Hidden

The first step sent splinters of memory into my feet. Wooden creaks echoed through fog that thickened with each inch upward. Second step—metal tang flooded my mouth, copper coins dissolved under my tongue. Third step—yellow fingernails against blue thread, the curved needle coming closer to my face.

Fourth step—the walls whispered my name in Oakley's voice, but twisted wrong, vowels stretched until I couldn't recognize it. Fifth step—my heartbeat grew irregular, missing beats, then doubling back on itself. Sixth step—my skin felt too tight, like something underneath was trying to push through.

Law spoke. His mouth opened, but Mother's voice leaked out. Her teeth behind his lips, grinning."Such a special boy."Her fingers reached from his throat, blue thread winding between them.

The walls pulsed with each heartbeat. Inhale, expand. Exhale, contract. Floorboards writhed underfoot like livingtissue. The staircase stretched impossibly, each step farther from the last.

Oakley's voice leaked through the walls. Small. Broken."Please stop."

A camera flash blinded my left eye. Oakley pinned to the barn floor. Her tears caught light, transformed to crystal, shattered across concrete. I blinked—Chet was on the floor. Was he? Was he breathing? I blinked again. Oakley's body swung from the ceiling. Click. Flash. Laughter.

"She promised she wouldn't tell."Karson's voice bled through the wall. No—it was mine. My voice, shaped like his. My hands, stained like theirs. I couldn't tell where I ended and they began.

The walls were no longer walls but flesh stretched taut, bulging with shapes trying to push through from the other side. I tasted her heartbeat. I heard the smoke whisper. I watched my skin remember things I hadn't touched.

Something in my head split cleanly, like bone beneath my bat.

A needle wove between my lips, blue thread catching light. Mother humming as she worked, her hands steady. I couldn't scream—not then, not now. The threading never stopped.

Oakley sobbed in the walls, under the floor, inside my skull.Blood leaked from the wood grain, pooled at my feet. I stepped in it. Another step. Their hands on her became phantom weights on my own skin.

I reached the top of the stairs, but my head remained in the dark. The fracture widened, bone splinters scraping against each other inside my skull. The basement followed us up, clinging like smoke that wouldn't disperse. Something essential had finally broken, a vital piece sheared clean away—leaving only hollow certainty behind.

Through the growing madness, Oakley remained my only fixed point. Without her, I had no purpose, no direction. She'd given meaning to my empty existence. Her smile was the only warmth I'd ever known. Her touch was salvation. I would tear the world apart to keep her safe, would bathe in oceans of blood to see her happy. She was the only thing that mattered in this life or any other. Mine to possess. Mine to protect. Mine forever.

The walls crawled with faces. Oakley's. Mother's. All the men I'd killed. All the men who'd hurt her. Their smiles stretched too wide, teeth too sharp, eyes blinking in unison. The floor rocked beneath my feet—not solid anymore. Nothing solid. Nothing real except the bat in my hand.

Law moved toward the living room, its furniture covered in years of dust. Hellbound had been my home once—just a bare mattress in the basement, bare walls, bare existence.

"Jesus fuck," Chet muttered, leaning against a wall. Blood and ash smeared his clothes. His fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against his thigh—adrenaline still spiking through his system. "Those sick fucks deserved worse."

In my head, the images wouldn't stop. Oakley crying. Pictures being passed around. Laughter echoing against barn walls. Oakley hiding beneath her hands. Flesh exposed. Judged. Broken.

"V?" Law called, voice heavy with concern, not fear. "Everything okay?"

I didn't answer. Inside my head, Oakley's voice played on loop.

My bat whistled through the air, crashed into Chet's shoulder. His body jerked backward, stumbling but staying upright—staring at me with something that looked almost like pity.

Wrong. All wrong. They needed to understand what happens when you say her name. When you breathe the same air as the men who hurt her.

"V, stop!" Law shouted, stepping forward. "This isn't going to help her!"

I drove the bat into Chet's ribs. He doubled over, gasping, but managed to stay on his feet. "Jesus Christ, V?—"

Law raised his hands, trying to create space. "V, listen to me. Oakley needs you calm, not like this."

The bat caught Law across the shoulder. He spun, crashing into the desk but stayed conscious, groaning as he pressed his back against the wood.

For a breath, I saw her. Oakley. Not crying. Not broken. Just staring at me like I was one of them. Her lips forming my name like a question. Like she didn't recognize me.

I didn't know how long I stood there with Law clutching his shoulder and Chet doubled over, both of them breathing hard. My hair hung in front of my face, my mind floating outside my body.

Ready to destroy anyone who hurt my wife.

Knight burst through the door, hands raised—no weapon. "Whoa, whoa! V, we're your brothers!"

I swung at him. The bat caught his arm, sending him stumbling backward into Tyrant, who grabbed him before he could fall.

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