I sniffle, wiping both cheeks again, my head falling back against the door. My mind spins as I glance over at them—their faces, the haunting memories I can’t seem to ever escape.
After a moment, I finally drag my eyes back to Wrath, finding him still waiting below me. His gaze is steady on mine as my hand reaches for him, fingers sweeping through his messy dark hair, the texture grounding me.
How the fuck can I be angry with him? He brought them to me. He dragged them here like proof that he knows what I want even when I didn’t say a word. He made it easy. Too fucking easy. He gave me what I wanted without me even breaking a sweat.
Maybe it’s the shock. Them.Him. All of it in the same room, breathing the same air, like the past decided to kick in the door and watch me fall apart.
And I do feel like I’m falling apart. But this rage—it’s not helping. It’s just noise in my blood, setting fire to things that haven’t even begun to burn yet.
It’s not his fault.
It never has been.
Yeah, he dug into my personal affairs, I’m still not sure how much he knows, but I think, in his own possessive way, he just wants to protect me. He wants to be the ghost behind me while I do the haunting. And maybe I wanted him here. No. Maybe, deep down, I needed him here, in this moment, more than I ever thought. And I didn’t realize it until now.
I lower myself down to his height, my gaze falling on his painted lips as the words slip out.
“So, how does this place work, circus boy?”
His red eyes flash, something unhinged and daring behind them and he reaches out as he straightens. I barely flinch before he slips his big hands under my arms, lifting me easily off the ground.
My breath hitches as he carries me across the room, my body wrapped around his, until we reach a narrow steel table beside the control center. He sets me down and stands between my legs, boxing me in.
“You have three options…” he murmurs deeply, and it feels like he’s handing me a blade wrapped in velvet.
“One,” he begins, red eyes fiery, voice unnerving. “Let them loose in the Death Rooms. Let the walls have them…. Let… Let the traps do the talking. And you… you can just watch.”
My lips part, but I stay quiet.
“Two: walk in there yourself and look them in the eye… while you fucking choose how they end.”
“Or three…” His head tilts. “I take the pair of cunts back where I found them.... Pretend tonight didn’t happen. And you do it your way. When… when you’re ready to finally unleash your wrath.”
I glance over my shoulder for a second, my eyes moving to the glass, to two of my rapists and my chest tightens, my past still breathing uglily right in front of me.
My gaze focuses on Lake’s eyes, closed with blood dragging down his cheek.
“What happened to Lake’s eye?” I ask curiously.
“It kept twitching at me,” Wrath mutters. “So, I ground my knife into it until it stopped.”
I raise an eyebrow followed by a small snicker and headshake.
“But, where’s Zye?” I ask, voice brittle as I turn to face him, and his expression shifts, his jaw locking before he shakes his head once.
“I wasn’t able to get him… not yet, my little corpse. But I will... If you just say the word.”
I nod slightly as I think carefully.
“The woman…” Wrath continues and my gaze darts to his. “She’s already dead. An… An illness.”
My eyes narrow and there’s a sensation running through me, but it’s not grief. Just a cold fury that I didn’t get to end the old hag first.
“Hmm,” I murmur. “Pity. I wanted to see how much of her fragile skin I could peel away from her body before she stopped screaming.”
My eyes wander to the controls, fingers brushing over the blinking lights, each one a doorway to torment.
“Well…” I breathe. “Maybe we don’t have to pick just one option.”