Page 92 of Wicked Deceit
Drag me behind a truck, chain my fucking feet, or beat my face in with your fists, but fucking please, don’t make me see my girl like this.
A throat clearing forces my feet to move into the room. Jesus—this room—the fish tank sits in the middle with three cameras discreetly hanging from the ceiling, pointed directly at it. Large monitors sit in front of the tank, displaying her wheezing form, begging for breaths. Her wet head leans against the glass, barely able to move from the exertion of trying to save her life.
My heart shatters at the sight of her bruised and shivering body. Wild breaths heave through her, jolting her body more. Her beautiful ocean eyes evaluate every move we make, yet she doesn’t fight us when we open the tank to her freedom. She’s so close, but so far away.
Piper motions with a wave for me to unlock her hands as she grips Kaycee’s hair. My fingers itch to punch Piper in the face until she bleeds, but the timing is off. They’ll shoot me if I make a move now while they’re watching through the cameras—this is a test, after all.
Once Kaycee is in my arms, we secure a black hood over her head. In silence, we lead Kaycee out of the disgusting room. Her feet squish and squelch into the gross carpet. My fingers wrap around her waist, holding her as close as possible without giving myself away. Her shivers wrack through her, jolting her entire body against me. Relief shoots through me when she presses the side of her body into mine. That’s right, sweetheart, soak up my heat. It’s one thing I can do for her before I leave her again.
A cry of pain tears from down the hall, jerking her body to a halt. I wait it out with her, refusing to drag her shaky legs any further. She stiffens against my side as we both listen to the woman wail through whatever the fuck they are doing to her. Probably something horrific. God, I need to get time alone with Kaycee. I need it for our plan to work. Piper mentioned the ceremony, whatever that was. I need it to get here so I can help my Sweetheart. So I can tell her once and for all that I love her.
My fingers continue to rest on her waist. Feeling Piper’s gaze burn into my skull, I gently squeeze her side three times.I love you. I will help. Please, don’t give up. It could mean so many things at this point to her. I want her to feel it in her beating heart—that someone in this hell-hole is on her side and is plotting her escape... Even if I die trying, I’ll lay down my life for her. No matter what.
Without further prompting, I drag her down the hall because I have two fucking jobs to do. Her legs wobble and threaten to give, but I hold her up, keeping a firm hand attached to her waist. Piper leads us into another disgusting excuse for a room. You know, you’d think they’d invest in their torture chambers with all this money they’ve stolen. Not that I fucking want them to, but still. This is supposedly their livelihood—yet it’s moldy, smelly, and unkempt. There’s an odd amount of hand tools lying around in this room: wrenches, hammers, copper pipes lining the far wall, and other sorts of pipes. It’s like old Greta was fixing this place up and then abandoned it. Or, you know, they murdered her before she could finish. Fucking psychopaths.
I walk Kaycee into the room, eyeing the pole Piper had mentioned before we came in. It stands from floor to ceiling, bolted in place. Through my mask, it seems like an old water pipe, rusted but sturdy. A hand waves me forward, urging me to tie my girlfriend to the fucking pole. Thrusting a rope into my free hand, she motions me again to hurry.
Turning Kaycee around, I take her right wrist into my hand. Her knees knock together, body shivering from the water dripping from her shirt plastered to her body. I don’t know how much longer she’ll be able to stand at this pole without falling to the ground, and it pisses me the fuck off. Fuck these assholes for putting her through this, and fuck me for having to take part.
Another black-robed figure enters the room with their head held high. Whoever it is nods toward Piper, who nods in return. They are obviously privy to whatever the fuck is about to go down. I wrap Kaycee’s right wrist with the burning rope and tighten it with a rough yank. A small whimper from beneath the black hood on Kaycee breaks my fucking heart. The skin beneath the rope reddens with my harsh treatment and from the treatment of the handcuffs before.
Fuck. Someone kick my ass before I have to do it myself.
I can’t leave her defenseless, not again. I’ve already watched her drown. I can’t watch whatever they’re going to do to her without giving her a fighting chance, especially if they expect me to stand by and watch her pain.
The room falls to a deafening silence as the other two watch me work. I feel their stares taking in every move I make, burning me and assessing me. They’re making sure I do my job, monitoring me for the rest of the Apocalypse. So, with that in the back of my mind, I make my next moves as carefully as possible. My foot hits an average-sized wrench, knocking it closer to Kaycee’s pole. If her left hand is free, she can grab it in self-defense. Thankfully, it scoots across the moldy orange carpet, as silent as a mouse creeping through a church.
When I wrap Kaycee’s left wrist in the rope, I tie it as loose as possible without falling off. Over exaggerating my movements, I give the fuckheads the illusion I’m tightening them down. In reality, I’m giving her a weapon to bring them to their knees.
Kaycee moves her wrist around, twisting and turning, attempting to check the resistance in her rope. Which—fuck—there isn’t any. I tied it so loose around her wrist that if she moves anymore, it’ll fall off. And if that happens, fuck me—they’ll retie it and shoot me dead. Then she’ll never have a chance.
I wrap my gloved hand around her elbow, squeezing it in a warning. ‘Stop moving, or we are both dead.’ With a deep breath, I pull my hand away and bury every emotion inside of me, pushing them down into the depths of the darkness dwelling inside of me. The same darkness Kaycee shed light on and replaced with happiness and sunshine and butterflies. But now—now I need my darkness to bleed my heart dry and make me numb, to submerge me in fucking ice water until we can escape.
The second figure waves an impatient hand, bouncing on her toes. Fuck me. I rip Kaycee’s hood off, walking toward the other two. We stand in formation, shoulder-to-shoulder, with our arms crossed over our chests.
When I step back from Kaycee and take my spot in line with the other figures, two more unknown people in black robes walk into the room with their masked faces held high. The door clicks behind them, locking us all into this hell hole. I clench my fist tight when they march forward instead of standing in the straight line with us, and they beeline for Kaycee, who eyes them with suspicion. I run my tongue along my top teeth, gluing my fucking feet to the ground.
“Heya, Stupid.” The one says with a distorted voice, bringing a finger to the side of her face. His voice sounds smug and really fucking familiar. If I had to guess it’s either Trent or Oscar hiding behind mask number one and probably mask number two.
“Remember me?” They ask in a deep voice making my fucking teeth grind together. I thank whatever asshole insisted on these masks so these dicks can’t see I want to rip them apart piece by piece. But we’re surrounded here.
“Trent,” she grunts, trying to pull from his grasp. “You were there? You wrecked into us?” Pride bleeds from every evil inch of Trent when he pulls his mask off and smiles down at her.
“Ah, I never thought you’d remember. You were blitzed out of your mind, Slut,” he says, leaning in to brush his lips against her cheek.
“I could have taken you then, and I could take you now,” he rasps through a throaty moan, leaning into her more and kissing down her jaw. “Perfect,” Trent mumbles, trailing unwanted kisses down her jaw. Her entire body stiffens with every groan he gives.
Red slashes cross my vision, taking over when he leans into her grinning more. His body melts into hers, taking what the fuck he wants while groping her breasts and groaning. His eyes discreetly slip to me with a smarmy smirk lining his lips. And that’s the moment I know. They’re testing everything I do. Slowly, I uncurl my fists and shake them out, trying to block out whatever the fuck they say to her. I’m not sure how much more I can take without blacking out and choking them all. If I lose control now, they’ll kill me, and she’ll die in their hands regardless.
My fingernails curl into my palm, and if I didn’t have gloves on, they’d puncture my skin. My chest heaves with every deep breath I take, forcing myself to stay put so I don’t put my fist through his teeth and make him swallow them. I close my eyes, refusing to hear the words that they say. I feel it in my churning gut that this is nothing more than a way to fuck with me and test my loyalties. Everything about this situation screams this is a fucking test.
“It was you? You broke my arm?” she asks in a small voice, shaking her head. “You two were there?” Trent snorts and rolls his eyes. My mind reels from their confession. I knew it was someone in the school, and I should have suspected them. But fuck! To hear it from their lips that they were the dickbags to attack not only Kaycee but Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb, too. Fuck.
“What did you expect? Your lover boy?” Trent scoffs, slipping his gaze to me once again. Jealousy sits behind his eyes when he looks me up and down and scoffs once again.
“Delta and Panty Licker.” Piper finally steps forward with a growl in her distorted voice and cocks her head. “You’re interrupting a broadcasting bid with your assaults.” She waves her hands around in irritation, earning nothing but huffs from Oscar and Trent. But thank fuck she stopped their wandering hands from touching Kaycee again.
Oscar murmurs something and finally picks up his mask from the ground and puts it on.
