New York, New York

Lachlan

I walk down the hallway with various rooms, as different sounds erupt from each of them.

Loud begging.

Sobbing.

Screams.

And classical music of course along with rock, which means Isabella and Amalia are having the time of their lives right now.

Room six opens and a tiny blonde emerges, her eyes wide while her white dress is smeared with blood and… are those ashes? Her lip is trembling and she hugs herself, murmuring something inaudible.

“Are you lost?” I ask, because scanning her appearance, she doesn’t exactly look like the victim these guys go for.

They never torture women.

She can’t be a student, because those bounce around, excited, while asking hundreds of questions.

She runs toward me, grabbing my hand and begging with her melodic voice, “Please help me. Please. He’s going to—” I zone out her words, instead focusing on her features, which seem painfully familiar, but I can’t place them. I haven’t seen this woman in my life, yet it feels like I should know her.

I don’t have much time to dwell on it as the door opens once again and Arson walks out, confident as always with a leather bag thrown over his shoulder. “Belosnejnaya moya, what did I say about touching strangers?” He casually comes to us and throws his hand around her shoulder, and she shivers in revulsion, I assume.

What. The. Fuck?

“What are you doing, Arson?”

He shrugs, adjusting his bag better, but still keeping a strong hold on the woman. “I was showing Chloe around my space.”

“I hate it here. You’re a maniac,” she hisses at him, trying to hit him, but he quickly catches her fist and wraps his hand around it.

He gives me a grin, although his eyes stay completely dead, and he drags her out, throwing “Room nine” on the way as they pass me. And with that final line, he disappears behind the door that leads upstairs.

In all the years I’ve known the guy, he’s never been with a woman, let alone one who he called to in his native language, Russian.

I groan inwardly, because she doesn’t want to be with him, and there’s a wildness about her that will bring him more problems that he can ever expect.

However, the minute I reach room nine, all thoughts about other people fly away, and instead, the cold monster sinks in, and a sinister smile appears on my face while my body buzzes with excitement of what will come next.

Because Elijah is pinned to the wall, whimpering through the silver tape, with various weapons lying on the table, just begging to be used. His body has several stitches, Band-Aids, and bandages that I’ll gladly rip off.

He has been here for months, and I make it my mission to inflict pain on him from time to time, or use him as a body for my students to practice on. Then once the torture is done, the doctor fixes him, and he sits in the cage waiting for the next time.

Five of his fingers are cut off, because no one treated them when I broke them, so they festered.

His nightmare will last for a long time, because he hurt those close to me.

No one harms those under my protection and lives.

A lesson he’ll learn through the years.