Darius had an arm around Gray’s middle and was supporting him on the way down to the dungeon. The yacht was pretty quiet this late morning, and they only passed two men, one from the waitstaff, one guard.

Music greeted them in the dungeon, as did seven other motherfuckers. Oscar and Lee’s owner was here alone, so was Philip—the British fuck who’d bought Cole—and then Vanya, three guards—Benny was one of them—and one guy who Gray had seen working alongside Jonas a couple times.

“There you are!” Vanya smiled widely and held out his arms.

“Remember.” Darius pressed his lips to Gray’s temple.

Gray remembered. Vanya couldn’t die yet. Darius had deemed him valuable in case shit went south and they needed someone to bargain with. Gray didn’t wanna think about that.

“I see you gave your toy some protection.” Philip smirked and tipped his beer bottle at Gray’s hands. Or maybe it was his sweatpants.

“So he’ll last longer.” Darius ushered Gray to the corner where the black, glossy mechanical bull waited. And the thin padded mat with plastic spikes that were about to break through Gray’s skin in hundreds of places.

Gray took the first step onto the mat with caution, allowing his reactions to remain a bit slower than normal. He needed to stay calm. Calm and cranky. He grunted and shoved halfheartedly at Darius.

“I don’t wanna do this,” he said. “Fuckhead.”

“Benny, go get my chocolate milk,” Vanya demanded. “I don’t want to miss a single second of this. Oh, and two lines.”

Chairs were being pushed closer to the scening area, and Gray swallowed an onslaught of nerves as he hauled himself up on the bull with Darius’s help. A bolt of panic followed when he noticed there was absolutely nowhere to hold on. The surface of the machine was too smooth to grip.

“I don’t wanna do this,” he repeated. Among the chuckles from the others, the tremor in his voice still sounded the loudest. To him, anyway. All he could do was lean forward and try to find purchase around the neck of the mechanical creature. “You wanted me to talk back to you!” He glared blearily, accusingly at Darius. “You asked for a rebel!”

Philip and Vanya laughed merrily.

Darius smiled and smacked Gray on the cheek. “Where’s the rebel now?” With that said, he turned to the sick bastards. “Anyone care to make this interesting?”

Everyone cared. They placed bets on how many times Gray would fall off before he started begging.

I’m gonna kill you all.

* * *

“Son of a fuck!” Gray hit the spiked mat with a hoarse shout, and as the pain blazed through him, he tried to curl in on himself in a fetal position. The sharp spikes left his skin raw and bleeding, and the pain sucked all the air from him. Every time his body craved the relief of sobbing and weeping, all he could manage were choking sounds that rocked his upper body.

It was the third time the jerky movements of the bull had thrown him off.

Growing up with three rowdy brothers, how many times had he injured himself? How many times had his ass hit the ground and robbed him of breath? It was like that now, except the pain was coming from every angle, and little knives were turning him into ground beef.

Darius yanked him off the floor and hung him over the back of the bull. He checked for wounds that were too deep, but Gray croaked out another insult. A way of letting Darius know he could handle more.

“Stubborn kid,” Darius muttered under his breath.

It was for the best, though. The assholes were having a good time; their defenses were lowered. They weren’t thinking about going home, nor were they worried about the food poisoning.

As Darius pushed Gray’s leg over the bull, he spoke for the others. “If he doesn’t beg by the next drop, I have an idea.” He wiped his bloodied hands on a tissue. “We give him a riding companion.”

“Excellent!” Vanya cheered. The psychopath kid was high on cocaine and sipping chocolate milk through a straw.

One more drop… If Gray struggled to hold on before, it had nothing on now when he was bleeding from goddamn everywhere. Hands, arms, legs, and torso were smeared with blood, and a few smaller tears had appeared in his sweats.

His knees and shoulder blades suffered the most. It hurt like hell to land on them, but it inflicted the least amount of permanent damage. Okay, maybe not his knees, but there was no better alternative. His hip was in agony, he needed his feet so he could run later, and he had to take the weight off his calves where he risked exposing the knives.

His stomach flipped when the mechanical hell-ride started over. His hands were already slipping, and it became a game of trying to predict the movements and stay level on the bull. The shitheads laughed, the music droned on, the bets were upped, and salty tears stung and mingled with blood in the scrapes along Gray’s cheeks.

Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut and struggled against the violent movements beneath him. His muscles ached, and every effort made him sweat more. When shifting his head, he locked eyes with Darius, who sat in one of the chairs next to the others. But unlike them, he was tense. His hazel eyes burned with severity and barely restrained rage, reminding Gray of the flash of Darius’s eyes he’d gotten the night he was auctioned.

“Forgive me.”

The memory of the low whisper went through Gray like a breeze.

A second later, a rocky movement sent him flying off the machine. A somersault shot a bout of dizziness into him right before he squared his shoulders and landed on his back. Ow… The fire started up again. It was the first time he’d hit his head, and it hurt so much that he couldn’t make a sound. He imploded instead, trapped by the consuming pain. He lost track of time and space. The agony was everywhere, blackening his vision, squeezing his lungs, and rendering his body useless.

We’re not here. We’re somewhere else. Just…me.

Something jostled him—or someone. Slippery hands felt his neck and forehead, and then he was airborne. Darius… Gray felt his lips form the name, but he heard nothing.

Shhh…

Gray took a shallow breath, one after another, and slowly came to his senses. Darius was lowering him into a chair.

“Snap out of it, boy.” Darius gripped Gray’s jaw and brushed his thumb over his bottom lip. “Get ready for the next game. We need to have our fun.”

“The next game,” Gray echoed in confusion. Fuck, this amount of hurt was going to be impossible to forget. He blinked and focused on Darius. The next game. Oh fuck. “Yeah,” he whispered. Suddenly fully aware he was surrounded by people watching them, he offered a small nod to let Darius know. I’m with you. Next game. Darius was going to get Jonas now.

This was it.

Darius snapped his fingers at a guard, a silent command for the fucker to follow. Gray memorized the man’s stony expression, his high cheekbones, and his light hair. His perfectly straight nose and his dead eyes.

“I love that you don’t beg,” Vanya cooed. “Is it because you want to bring us more pleasure, hmm?”

Gray dragged his weary gaze from the door and fixed it on Vanya. How the hell could this slender little manchild be so fucking revolting? And downright terrifying. It was the angelic features masking the absolute purgatory of his mind that did it. Gray had never encountered anyone as evil as this guy. Because all Vanya wanted out of life was to make innocent people suffer. It made him happy. It lit up his baby-blue eyes with pure joy.

In too much pain to be sickened, Gray leaned forward and winced at the protests his joints made. His hands landed on his thighs, and he fisted the fabric in order to wipe the blood from his hands. He needed to get ready stat, and he wouldn’t get far if the knives slipped out of his grip.

He wiggled his toes carefully. His feet had been spared, aside from a few scrapes. He didn’t feel any blood underneath the soles, so that was good.

By now, Darius must’ve summoned someone to get Jonas, and then he’d come up with an excuse to stop by their cabin. “Just have to get something.” Or whatever. Darius was creative. And once there, he’d get rid of any accompanying guard and grab guns before he and Jonas hurried to the second top deck.

Gray knew there were two scenarios, one of which would leave him a sitting duck in here for a couple minutes. That was if Darius and Jonas encountered more people inside the pilothouse than expected. Then they might have to resort to using the guns, thus alerting everyone that something was wrong.

Gray braced himself for anything. His ears prickled, straining to hear anything above the music, and he pretended to stretch his back so he could feel his hands around his calves. His forehead almost touched his knees. Deep breaths. Push back the pain. His fingers played along the hems at the bottom of his pants.

He was ready to pull them up and access the blades. He was ready to rip the tape if the knives got stuck in their sheaths. He was ready to use the wire in his pocket. He was just so fucking ready.

He sniffled and wiped his chin on his shoulder. The bleeding was stopping in most places, thankfully. Only a few spots where the spikes had opened bigger wounds would need dressing later.

Where are they? Are they at the bridge yet? Have they shut off the cameras?

According to Jonas, there shouldn’t be more than two people in there. Darius had dubbed them the background crew. They maneuvered the boat, they cooked, and one of them was close to Red, but they were rarely seen. They didn’t show up for dinners or events.

Gray turned his head and rested his cheek on his knee, facing the door so he could see Darius and Jonas the moment they appeared.

Philip, seated on that side of Gray, looked down at him in amusement. “Is the toy sleepy?”

I’m gonna cut you first. I’m gonna stab you in the fucking throat.

Darius had warned Gray that it took more strength to cut through flesh than what the movies depicted.

“I wanted to buy you, I’ll have you know,” Philip went on. His British accent, Gray noticed, wasn’t as pronounced when he thought of it. Maybe he lived in the US. “I always liked the boys who looked like they played college football.”

No wonder he’d bought Cole, then.

Gray tightened his grip on the edge of his sweatpants.

Philip finished his beer and gave a dismissive wave. “Probably for the best Mr. B purchased you, though. I have enough work with my own heathen.” He chuckled at something. “The way I made him scream last night… At long last, I should say. He’s been hard to break.” He winked at Gray. “The walls here must be truly soundproof. I’m surprised no one noticed.”

Gray only offered a flat stare, and it didn’t last long. He caught movement in the hallway and spotted Darius and Jonas walking toward them briskly. Gray sucked in a breath and felt a rush of adrenaline.

This is it, this is it. This is war.

“I’m back, gentlemen.” Darius closed the door to the dungeon, something they hadn’t done before, and smiled stiffly. To Gray, he nodded subtly as he gripped Jonas’s neck. But rather than crossing the dungeon to where the others were waiting, they made a beeline for the two guards occupying a couch in the back.

“Yay, let the boys play for us!” Vanya clapped.

There would be no more playing. The game was over. Gray pulled up his sweats around his knees and gripped the two blades.

“No, he’s mine,” Jonas growled. “You will never rape me again, you fucking animal!”

Gray swiftly hauled out his knives, and he rammed the first one into Philip’s neck. The man’s eyes bulged out in shock, blood gushing around the blade that was now stuck. Gray shot up and witnessed the exact moment Jonas drove a knife into Benny’s stomach. Darius worked faster and had already left the other guard in a heap on the floor.

It took a couple heartbeats for the dungeon to erupt into chaos.

With no time to waste, Gray faced the remaining men, and he saw Vanya and his panicked gaze. More than that, he was reaching for something, something he kept under that goddamn silk robe of his. I don’t fucking think so. Gray didn’t blink; he flew at the kid and unleashed the blinding rage he’d kept buried.

“I dare you!” Gray sent them tumbling back, the chair tipping over, and Vanya’s scream pierced his eardrums. “I told you. I told you. I’m gonna end you all!” They hit the floor, and Gray got a grip on Vanya’s throat. He pushed the little sadist down and opened his robe.

“Mom!” Vanya screamed. “Kill him! Ow!”

Gray grunted at the knee he got in his gut, and his hand shook. Fuck. Get it together. He saw the gun sticking up from Vanya’s white silk pants, and he grabbed it with a trembling hand and pushed it away from them.

“Someone, get in here!” another man yelled.

“Can’t breathe—” Vanya choked out.

Gray let out a growl at the pain and hauled the kid off the floor, only to slam him up against the nearest wall. He took in the fear in Vanya’s eyes and smiled for the first time without wanting to hurl.

“You will die,” Vanya rasped. “You won’t get away.”

Gray rammed his forehead forward, creating a perfect crunch at the impact with Vanya’s nose. After that, the kid was a sobbing mess, and Gray let go of him. For now. Fucking bargaining chip… As he backed away, he caught Darius grabbing Lee and Oscar’s owner. It was a euphoric and beastly sight. A man who deserved to die. The same look of fear, the bulging eyes, face growing red, panic taking over.

Darius got his arm around the man’s neck and twisted it hard, and though Gray couldn’t hear it, he could practically feel the snap as the buyer’s neck broke.

Gray looked around them and ran a hand through his hair. His body was buzzing, his hands wouldn’t fucking stop shaking, and he waited for the anxiety to bubble up. His skin itched with the drying blood, but there was more than that. Foreign emotions were surging inside him, and he could only describe them as inhuman. His conscience had checked out.

“Get the gun, knucklehead.”

Gray snapped out of his haze and blew out a shaky breath. Gun, gun—there. On the floor. The one Vanya had tried to use. Gray picked it up.

Hiding in a corner next to a couch was one of the guys from the staff. Shaking in fear. Jonas was trying to calm him down. It’s gonna be all right. We’re getting out of here. We’re going home.

Gray swallowed hard and flicked a glance at Philip. Dead with his eyes open. Then Benny. Was he dead? Gray walked over and kneeled by his head—oh shit. He wasn’t dead at all, though he certainly would be soon.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Gray whispered. He eyed Benny’s body. Jonas had stabbed him in multiple places. Darius must’ve taken his gun already, because his holster was empty. “You don’t survive this. I only wish I could drag it out, because you deserve to suffer.”

Benny’s gaze was unfocused, and every time he tried to say something, he coughed up blood.

“Gray. We have to move on.”

Gray gave Benny’s cheek a smack and stood up to face Darius, who was tucking his tie into his pocket. Shit, he’d already restrained Vanya to the X-cross and taped his mouth. The psycho was barely moving, probably out of fear. Barbed wire circled the wood.

“Where do we go now?” Gray asked. “You said we have to set up a safe area and bring people there.”

“Safe area?” Jonas questioned. He remained on the floor with the other guy. He’d stopped crying but was still upset.

Darius replied while folding up the sleeves of his button-down. “Since we’re working with moving targets who don’t know what’s going on yet, we can’t secure one deck and move on to the next.” He nodded at the frightened boy. “We’re gonna round up the staff in your quarters now, then go to the bridge. Jonas, you will stay there with them while Gray and I take care of the rest.”

“I can do more than that.” Jonas frowned.

Darius shook his head. “You’ll have plenty to do, and we’ll make sure you boys have means to defend yourselves if someone tries to enter.”

“Anyone with the code can do that,” Gray pointed out.

“The guards don’t have it. Only Ms. Valerie and the crew,” Jonas mumbled. “Okay, I’ll keep watch. What about Ms. Valerie’s son?”

“We can’t bring him.” It was the one thing Darius was grim about. “Gray and I will come back for him later.”

Then they better hope no one came in here and rescued him first. Gray understood, though. Vanya wouldn’t cooperate for shit, and they’d get themselves killed if they had to lug him around all while facing gunshots from others.