Page 36 of The Devil's Mercy

Before he could respond to that, the doctor stood with a flourish.

“Done eating, baby? You are? Great. Then let's get you back on the hook.”

“This time,” Titus drawled, though it was obvious his comment was to Aodhan, as though Cal wasn’t even there, “he doesn’t come off of it until he’s actually learned his lesson. Is that understood?”

“Yeah, Mercy.” Aodhan reached for Cal. “I’m with you.”

Chapter 10:

“Are you ready to be a little more honest with me, Cal?” Mercy’s voice, whispered against the curve of his left ear, had him whimpering. “I’m going to need you to use your words. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” Anything to be let down again. This time, he hadn’t even had company. After dinner, they’d hauled him back into the small room, chained his arms up, inserted the hook, and…left. “Yes.”

It wasn’t like he’d missed them or anything, but it sucked being alone with just his thoughts, especially since those thoughts were traitorous at best, and diabolical at worst.

Cal had successfully avoided himself for years, and now, in just a handful of days, these bastards were undoing all his hard work. It both infuriated and terrified him, and he hated how he needed to lean into Titus to keep from stumbling the second he was freed from their demonic contraption.

Hated how the older man let him and even welcomed him closer with an arm around his waist.

“I’m going to remove the blindfold,” Titus told him in a gentle voice. “Then I’m going to take you upstairs so you can wash up. Okay?”

He nodded his head, then recalled the earlier instruction he’d been given. “Yes.”

“Good boy.”

A whimper slipped out, but before he could get embarrassed, the blindfold was untied, leaving him blinking against the light. It was dimmed, not nearly as harsh as it’d been the other day when they’d taken him to the kitchen.

“Can you walk?” Titus tilted his head, inspecting him as soon as he asked, and then clicked his tongue. “Never mind. Hold onto me.”

“What—” He was lifted into the director's arms, and clamped his mouth shut against any protests he might have had. Truthfully, after hanging there for gods knew how long, his entire body ached, and as stubborn as he typically was, the thought of falling on his face because he’d insisted on trying to walk was enough to quiet him.

They moved out of the room and down the hallway toward the stairs before heading to the next level of the house. Titus didn’t seem tired the entire climb, carrying Calix with ease all the way to the opposite side of the home, to another bedroom, though he didn’t put him down right away. Instead, he brought him to an attached bathroom, gently lowering Calix to the ground in front of the sink so Cal could steady himself against the counter.

“I know you prefer to shower,” Titus said as he made his way to the clawfoot tub, passing the glass shower stall on his way, “but I’m afraid you’ll fall over on your own. At least this way, when you insist you can bathe yourself, I’ll be less concerned.”

The bathroom was fairly large, considering it’d been meant for a single person. The tub sat beneath a window that had been left ajar, allowing a cool breeze to filter in, bringing with it the scent of pine and summer air. It was too dark tomake anything out, but Calix assumed he wouldn’t have much of a view anyway, plus it’d been set high up on the wall. They were also on the second floor. Escaping through it was nearly impossible.

Even if he’d still been in shape and didn’t feel like blinking was enough effort to cause him to keel over.

“How do you know I like to shower?” he asked, taking it all in as the director turned on the spouts and adjusted the water. The color scheme was simple, elegant, yet flirty, with white marble, gold embellishments, and baby pink walls. The shade was so soft, it could be mistaken for cream. “You like pink.”

“I have a certain fondness for it, yes.” Titus stood and turned to face him but didn’t approach. “As for your question, do you really want an answer?”

Probably not.

“Yes.”

The corner of Titus’s mouth twitched. Could he tell Cal was pretending not to be afraid? The setting might have changed, but it wasn’t much better than the hook. At least that tiny room was familiar now.

The bathroom was warm and inviting, almost peaceful with the sound of running water and the steam slowly filling up the space. The lighting was dim and golden, and the cool porcelain from the counter pressed against his backside was like a balm against his sweaty skin. His ass hurt and the ache in his shoulders from having his arms forced into the same position were painful reminders that this relaxed environment wasn’t real.

There was another trick at play here, but where, and what was it?

“There were cameras in your hotel room, Detective,” Titus replied casually.

“What?”

“I put them there,” he continued. “I put most of the items you used there. The items the hotel stocks are mediocre at best. We couldn’t have you using garbage. Consuming trash.”

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