I can’t tear my eyes off him.
There’s something sickly fascinating about this large, dainty-stepped beast. As he nears, my eyes fall to his apron, and the light glinting off the wet spots on it.
More blood?
I can’t help but wonder who he’s killed this time.
Jacques stops mere feet from me.
Survival instinct takes over, and I can’t help but ease higher on the bed in a vain attempt to put space between me and him.
“Where do you think you’re going, Ivy?”
“This is bullshite!” Noah reaches for my hand, then seems to think better of it. On the screen, Jamie’s still in that room, trapped, with two psychotic killers waiting on a signal to hurt her further. “You can’t expect me to just sit here and let him hurt her!”
“If it’s what the audience wanted, you would have no choice. Unfortunately, my desires are nothing compared to the audience’s hunger for more of you both. Consider yourself lucky Jacques is only there to have some fun.”
“What do you mean ‘fun’? And why is he walking toward her? Whatever he wants, he can do it to me!” Obviously anxious, Noah reaches for my hand again.
“Don’t touch her.”
His low growl reaches me.
I barely jerk back in time but it’s too late. Our captor’s laugh fills the room.
“Clarice. Please remind them why they have to obey us.”
“No!” I scream.
On the screen, Clarice skips happily toward Jamie. This time, she slices two perfect, small lines across Jamie’s thigh. Deeper than the first two; blood rushes out and down the front of her leg.
Jamie cries out behind her gag, struggling against the ropes binding her. The pain of her lacerations is evident on her face.
“Fuck. Fuck. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Stop hurting her,” Noah begs as tears begin filling my eyes.
“Nine-hundred-and-ninety-six more cuts to go. Clarice?”
“Yes, ma’am?” she answers like an obedient little pet and then brings the rusty dagger to the lips of her mask in a mock kiss.
“From now on, for every time they disobey, make sure their precious friend pays the price.”
I’m vacillating between the demonic doll’s actions and watching the new lines of blood trickling down the side of Jamie’s thigh.
“Last time I’m asking: are you ready to obey all my commands?”
Out of my peripheral, I see Noah nod. “You’ve made it clear we don’t have a choice.”
All I can do is silently nod one more time, even as I’m torn between watching Jamie and watching Jacques. Clarice returns to her position next to Raoul and resumes her stone-still stance. As I’m watching, Raoul’s head turns in my direction, that white-mask hiding his features.
He remains like that all while looking right at me.
What the fuck? How can he see me? How does he know where I am?
In the back of my mind, I know it’s probably another mind trick, but there’s no making sense of much at this moment. Not with what’s happening on the screen.
Not with that hulking monster Jacques mere feet from me.
I hear movement approaching. When I finally manage to pull my attention away from the screen, I see another guard walking toward us, pushing a silver tray.
My mind flashes back to the tray with all those tools that Jacques had in the room with Anne.
While he maimed her.
Right before he ended her.
My skin breaks out in a cold sweat. They aren’t going to kill you yet, I try to remind myself. They need both of you alive to continue the show. And that may be our only saving grace.
The guard stops next to Jacques and I finally get a good glimpse of what’s on that tray.
Syringes.
Inside them, there’s a pink-tinged liquid.
Has to be the “new” chemical our captor mentioned.
Once the guard leaves, Jacques takes one final step toward me, leaving nothing more than a foot-and-a-half between us. I can’t help but tilt my head back to look into those large, round lenses covering his eyes.
And nothing. I see nothing.
Well, nothing of him, that is. My reflection and my wide, scared eyes stare back at me in the inky darkness of those lenses.
He tilts his head this way and that, analyzing me. As his head moves, the long beak of his mask catches the light, glinting. For some reason, that draws my attention back to the shiny wetness on his apron.
And the blood there isn’t dry. It’s coagulated a bit, but not dry by any means.
This thought rushes endorphins through my body and a slight detached feeling takes hold. Everything slows down around me for a minute.
My eyes end up falling to his hand, and I see that he’s clutching a scalpel in his gloved-fingers.
Looks like the same scalpel he killed Anne with.
Slowly, he raises that scalpel toward me, and I can’t tear my eyes away. Don’t even blink.
I feel movement next to me.
Noah’s moving to protect me again.
The muffled sound of a woman crying out breaks my sick fascination with that scalpel. Immediately, my eyes jump to Jamie, concern for her overriding concern for myself. I come back into the moment and it physically hurts to breathe. Too much is happening at once and I’m feeling overwhelmed, and yet, for once I’m in control of my functions.
Clarice is already in front of her, and with a little, demonic giggle she delivers the fifth cut.
Right down the length of Jamie’s jaw.
“Nine-hundred-and-ninety-five left to go.”
The fucking glee in our captor’s tone can’t be mistaken.
“Noah,” I beg in a needy whisper, turning to him. “Please. No matter what happens, please.”
His tortured eyes focus on me. “Love, you know I can’t. I can’t let him hurt you.”
“There’s nothing you can do to stop it. But you can help Jamie. We can help her. We just have to do as they say.”
“I fucking love you. How am I supposed to sit here while this shite cuts into you?”
The tone of his voice cracks my heart wide open. “Please, baby. We can’t let her get hurt anymore. I love you, too, but we both have to find a way to control ourselves.”
Jaw tight, he gives me a sharp nod.
Trembling, I turn toward Jacques. He’s remained perfectly motionless, arm raised. Once it’s obvious Noah’s no longer going to intervene, he moves again, lowering the scalpel toward me.
I close my eyes and press my lips closed. No matter what happens, I’m going to deal with it. I know he isn’t going to kill me. I can survive any pain, deal with any scar. All that matters is beating these fuckers at their own game.
The coldness of the steel kisses my shoulder. It takes all of my self-control not to jump at the sensation. I brace myself, awaiting the sharp pain of the cut.
It never comes.
Instead, he leaves the scalpel pressed to my shoulder, and it doesn’t take me long to notice that it’s the smooth, back end that’s touching me.
He doesn’t intend to cut me.
Struggling to maintain a calm expression, I open my eyes.
He’s looking right at me. I can’t see his eyes, but that masked, wigged-head is tilted down in my direction. Once again, I’m forced to stare into my own reflection in those large, black lenses.
Just as slowly as before, he moves the smooth edge of the scalpel down my arm in a cold, almost-sensual caress.
A rough sound leaves Noah, but I don’t look at him. I refuse to back down. Controlling my breathing, I face off with this monster before him, letting him know I don’t fear him.
I should. I once did.
No longer.
The touch of the scalpel is a blatant sign—he wants to do to me what he did to Anne. He wants to maim me. Break me. Cut me up and abuse my entire body for his sadistic pleasure.
Due to his orders, I know he can’t, therefore I refuse to cower before him.
Jacques nods at me, a silent acknowledgement of my bravery, and turns to the tray. Picking up one of the syringes, he faces me and reaches out with his other hand.
I mimic his previous statue-like posture, following the movement of that hand with my eyes only.
He cups my chin and the rubber of his glove is cool. His touch is gentle. Reverent.
Again, almost sexual.
I can literally feel the waves of aggression coming off Noah.
Softly, Jacques tilts my head to the side, exposing my neck. His hand tightens around my chin just enough to keep me in position. Then, he releases me long enough to uncap the needle before grabbing my chin again.
He runs the needle up the side of my neck in another perverted caress.
“Fucking hell, I can’t do this,” Noah growls.
“Stop,” is all I say, keeping my voice calm.
Jacques nods at me again and I can’t shake the feeling that whatever he looks like under that mask, he’s smiling down at me.
Positioning the needle, he gives me a split second to anticipate the jab.
I inhale sharply as he pierces my artery and injects the liquid. It’s hot, and within seconds it feels like it’s spread to my entire body.
Removing the needle from my neck, Jacques deposits it on the tray and grabs the second one.
The heat is still spreading through my veins quicker than I can keep up. My vision momentarily blurs. Struggling to control myself, I watch as Jacques approaches Noah.
That old saying “if looks could kill” has never been more true. Noah doesn’t cower away from him either, but he doesn’t face off with him calmly. He glares up at him with the seething hatred of a thousand wronged men.
Jacques pauses before him and jerks his head to the side.
Noah doesn’t move.
“I think he’s being obvious enough, Noah. Obey him.”
Still no movement.
I clench my fists on my lap, eyes traveling all over Noah. For some reason, despite the insanity of the situation, I can’t help but eat him up with my eyes. The cut of his jaw, covered by that dark shade of scruff. His thick, messy black hair.
That thick neck, now devoid of that leather strap that had adorned it for years.
A hollowness settles low in my gut before falling down to my pussy.
God, he looks so fucking good sitting there in his silent mutiny.
“Noah, I won’t ask again. Tilt your head for him.”
Asking my powerful, alpha-male to willingly subject to Jacques like that is beyond cruel.
And that’s exactly why that cunt is doing it. To fuck with him.
Possessiveness and protectiveness rise to mix with the drugged hunger pounding through me.
Noah exhales slowly in an obvious attempt to calm himself and tilts his head to the side.
Quick as can be, Jacques injects him. I see the change in Noah almost immediately as the drug starts to hit him like it’s hitting me.
The guard behind Jacques removes the trays with the syringes once he’s done. Jacques himself lingers, walking back toward me.
That huge, gloved hand rises again. Watching me behind that mask, he runs the backs of his fingers softly down my cheek, before finally turning to leave.
Even as the haze in my mind expands, that message isn’t lost on me.
Eventually, if everything goes according to their plan, I’m going to be the first one of the two to die.
And when that day comes, it’s going to be by Jacques’ hand.
A fact that clearly excites him.
I’m going to kill him first. This thought runs through my mind and I’m not upset at the prospect. An eye for an eye, and in this case, they’ve shut two pairs permanently that will never get the chance to see the light of day again. He can’t get his hands on Jamie either.
He will ruin her if he does. That sick aristocrat won’t prolong her torture, giving us time to save her. Jacques will break her beyond salvation and then end her.
Turning his back on us, he exits the room along with the guard, and we can do nothing but watch as the wall once again slides closed, leaving us trapped in here with this new drug taking over our bodies.