“Those… Those are the only tears your body will ever spill now you’re mine, Allure… The ones your wet cunt weeps for me…” He pauses, a small strain in his throat before continuing. “Because fear… pain… pleasure… it can’t tell the fucking difference anymore. It just knows me—it knows who the fuck it belongs to,” he finishes with a vicious hiss against my lips.
“I… I…” A stutter falls out, but I can’t say much else, I’m too much in shock.
“Say yes Wrath,” he snarls darkly.
“Yes Wrath,” I repeat without hesitation, followed by a hard swallow, his dominance ruining me—destroying any defiance I ever had.
He’s far more intimidating with his voice, like it’s been dragged up from the pits of hell he crawled out of. Holyfuck. It strips me bare faster than his hands ever could. It feels like I never reallymethim before now, just the shell of him.
“Good girl… Did… Did you miss me?” he asks, his lips brushing mine, his breath a mix of tobacco and minty gum.
“I did,” I answer, barely above a whisper. “A lot.”
He presses a firm kiss on my painted lips, then, without warning, he releases me, stepping away and everything stills, like the air’s been sucked out of the room.
I don’t hear him move, but I feel the shift just before I’m yanked off the ground and flung over his shoulder like a lifeless corpse
“Fuck—” The word wrenches from my throat, but it’s swallowed by the spin and disorientation.
The trailer door flings open, and a sharp gust of night slaps my skin. My nails claw at his leather jacket, but he just walks with no explanation of where he’s taking me.
After walking for what feels like forever, my body starts to go limp against him, sagging like dead weight. I’ve asked him three times now where the fuck he’s taking me, voice muffled from how I’m slung.
Every time, he just smacks my ass.. hard. The kind of smack that that leaves handprints and echoes in the night. He’s slipped into silent mode again, that eerie, loaded quiet.
Then I hear a metal gate being unlocked and my head snaps up as best it can, blindfold brushing my cheeks. The drag of a chain hits the ground with a heavyclunk, and the gate creaks open.
Wrath keeps moving, his stride the same and I groan, giving up again, letting my body slump.
We stop again, and this time I hear a door another door, this one different. Heavy and industrial. It groans open and the second we’re inside, a wave of warmth hits my skin.
Then the smell hits me. That strange, unmistakable Oddity scent that always lingers in the air, but stronger in here.
Death.
Wherever we are, it’s not somewhere I’ve been before.
He takes me inside a room after carrying me through what feels like an endless maze of rotting halls. The lock snaps into place and the second my feet hit the floor, he tears the blindfold off.
Light stabs at my eyes through the haze, and I squint up to see his expression is unreadable, carved from stone. As my vision clears, the room unfolds around me, and I look around.
Black matte walls swallow what little light there is, the space bathed in a low, blood-red glow. Spikes protrude from the ceiling—some long, others jagged and broken.
In the center sits a wide, leather chair and the far wall houses a long, metallic table and it seems like tools are laid out on it, but I can’t see from here. I edge toward it, drawn in against my better judgment. My gaze drifts over them and they’re knives, bone saws, rusted shears, masks with no eyes, clamps, hooks. Things meant to kill in the most horrifying way possible.
I swallow and turn sharply to face Wrath but freeze when I catch sight of something over his shoulder.
A massive pane of dark, tinted glass spans the opposite wall. Below it, a console hums faintly, its buttons blinking with erratic light. Red. white. Red. white. Like a heartbeat.
To the right, I turn my body and gaze up at a row of monitors flickering on the wall. They show grainy live footage of dark hallways and rooms, all empty and silent, lit only by flickering strobes.
“What is this place?” I murmur, watching as the camera’s change from one room to the next every couple of seconds.
“The… The Death Rooms. We’re in the control centre,” Wrath answers lowly. “It’s one of our Dark Night… Amusements.”
What’s strange is this place isn’t what truly unsettles me, it’s how he said it. His tone, and it rings alarm bells in my ears. Something’s about to happen, something’s wrong, and he doesn’t know if I’m gonna like it.
“Why am I here, Wrath?” I ask, spinning on my heel to face him, the words tight in my throat.