I pace back and forth in his room. At least, I’m guessing it’s his room. It’s where he brought me back to the night of the vow ceremony.
My heart races that he brought me here. The night of the ritual was different. My father and the rest of the Spade brothers knew I was here. I’m hiding out now, and my father will be pissed if he knew Saint brought me with him.
I have no phone on me because I left it at home. No purse or ID. Coming to a stop, I look at the closed door and walk over to it. I twist the knob and am surprised he didn’t lock me in here. That’s something Saint would do.
Stepping out into the hallway, I softly close the door behind me. I make my way back to the door that I know leads to the stairs. Leaning over the railing, I look down over the stairwell and listen to the silence, making sure I’m alone. I’ll head back outside. Stand next to the bike and wait. At least if I’m caught out there, it won’t look so suspicious.
I start to make my way down to the first level when I hear a shrill scream. I slam my back into the wall, and my heart races as I look up to make sure someone didn’t see me. But I’m still alone.
It comes again, and I realize it’s from the basement. Making my way down to the bottom floor, I push open the door and look down at a dimly lit hallway to see it’s empty.
I step through the door, closing it behind me and quickly take a few steps. I hear a door squeaking and jump into an open one. It’s a small rectangular room with a concrete floor and walls. There’s a square glass in front of me, allowing me to see in the next room. It reminds me of the shows you see where the cops watch the criminal get interrogated for the crimes they commit.
That shrill scream comes again, and I press my back into the corner as I look at the open door. Fuck, I should have closed it.
“Got her?” someone barks.
“Yeah,” another one answers.
The scream echoes, and I place my hands over my ears because it’s getting closer. I bend my knees, sliding my back down the wall as I catch sight of a woman being dragged across the floor in the hallway outside of the room. Blue eyes meet mine before they quickly disappear.
I crawl across the floor and shut the door as quickly as possible but also as quietly as I can not to bring any attention to the room. Standing to my feet, I look through the glass to see they have her in the room across from me.
Two men dressed in cloaks and masks pull the woman across the floor. They drag her with a rope that is wrapped around her neck. You no longer hear her scream, but her hands grab at it, trying to loosen it.
They bring her to a stop, and she rolls over onto her stomach, coughing and grabbing her reddened neck. Rope burns already show on her pale skin. One of the guys yanks her shorts down her legs and underwear while the other rips her shirt off her chest, exposing her fake tits to the room. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
One of them grabs the rope that lies next to her and yanks her back to stand with it around her neck. He holds it tight while she fights until her body goes slack, and her eyes roll back into her head. He allows her to drop to the concrete floor once more, and he pushes her onto her back while the other grabs a white straitjacket that hangs on the wall.
They slide her arms into the front of it easily and then turn her onto her stomach, fastening her inside it. It has a zipper that goes all the way up to the base of her neck and five buckles across the back. They bring two more straps between her legs pulling them tightly as they buckle those in place as well. One last strap for her forearms attaches to the front.
One grabs her hair and yanks her to her feet before throwing her into a chair in the middle of the room. A large red ball gag is shoved into her mouth and fastened at the back of her head.
Her eyes are heavy as she looks around aimlessly. She’s not fully conscious yet from them choking her out, but she’s starting to come around.
She blinks, and fresh tears fall from her eyes as she sobs. She thrashes the best she can in the straitjacket while two men kneel at the front of the chair. They yank her legs wide apart, and each one fastens an ankle to the front legs of the chair, preventing her from closing her legs.
Thrashing back and forth, she continues to sob, and drool runs from her lips. The door to their room opens, and I duck the moment I see someone new enter. Pressing my back to the wall below the mirror, I try to calm my racing heart.
My eyes shoot to my closed door. I wonder how the fuck I’m going to get out of here without being seen. What if Saint is back in his room looking for me?
Turning around, I get to my knees and lift my head to look through the mirror, knowing they can’t see me, or they would have already been in here to get me too.
I count four men now dressed in cloaks and masks. I have no clue who they could be. The door opens again, and my pulse races when I see Saint enter the room.
What the fuck is he doing in there?
He goes to the far wall and leans back against it. Crossing his arms over his chest, he places one combat boot on the wall bending his knee as he stares at the woman. Not an ounce of emotion in his cold eyes.
I’ve grown up in this world. I understand what a Lord is about, but I never stopped to think what Saint was capable of. Don’t they say love is blind? That women ignore the red flags when they see a pretty face?
How could I have missed so much? Is he going to stand there and let them hurt her?
I get my answer the next second when a man enters the room. The woman sees him and begins to scream louder and thrash harder. One of the cloak and mask walks behind the chair and attaches a hook into a silver ring at the back of the gag and pulls on it, forcing her to lift her chin to stare at the ceiling.
SAINT
The Lords have an understanding. A code that we live by. And that is the Lords come first. No matter what. Even though we’re all supposed to be “brothers” within the society, someone involved always wants more than what they’re given. Those Lords are punished. Some killed immediately. Others are brought here to Carnage to live out a lifelong sentence of pain and humiliation.
Women in our world are no different. Their treatment is to fit the crime.
The woman sits tied in the chair in the center of the room while the Lord stands before her. My eyes go to the mirror that’s on the opposite wall from me. I feel like we’re being watched. But that’s just me being paranoid. I’m ready to get this over, get back to Ashtyn, and get the fuck out of here. Being at Carnage tonight was the last thing on my mind. I’m not sure why our fathers wanted us here in the first place.
The Lord gets my attention as he slaps the woman. Her mumbled sobs follow. She shakes her head the best she can as he shoves his hand between her now naked and open legs. Her upper body is covered with the straitjacket. But her lower body only has the two straps that go between her legs, leaving her pussy wide open.
“Want to be fucked, bitch?” he asks her.
Spit flies from her mouth as she tries to wiggle free, but she’s not going anywhere.
“I’m here to grant that wish.” He smiles down at her. “I chose a straitjacket as your punishment. I hear that after long periods of time, it can be quite painful. Your blood pools in your elbows, leading to swelling. Your hands will go numb of course from lack of circulation. Depending on how long I decide to have them keep you in this, you may start to experience bone and muscle stiffness in your upper arms and shoulders. You also run the possibility of overheating if I have them turn up the temperature in here.” He taps the side of her tear-streaked face. Looking up, he addresses the rest of us in the room. “I want her to have the full treatment. Do not go easy on her.”
My father nods in understanding.
“Give her a pregnancy test. If she’s knocked up, terminate it,” he commands. “And I want a hysterectomy performed regardless.” She sobs into the gag. “I’ll come back to visit you, darling. Just to make sure you’re getting what you deserve.” He exits the room and slams the door shut.
My father looks at me. “You two get her prepped.” One by one, they each filter out of the room, leaving Kashton and me alone.
I walk over to the far end of the room where the cabinets are. Opening up the top one, I grab what we need and place it on the counter. The door opens, and I turn, expecting it to be Haidyn, but it’s Devin. He has a rolling cart that has a metal bowl with hot coals dumped in the middle.
“Here you are, sir.” He nods, stepping back and exiting the room.
She screams into the gag, trying to free herself, but there’s no use. No one can escape that. Kashton takes the lighter fluid and pours it into the bowl, soaking the coals in it. Then he removes the Zippo from his back pocket. It’s chrome with a black spade in the center, and inside, it has a skull with 666 across the bottom. Lighting it, he drops it into the bowl as well, starting the fire.
It doesn’t take long to heat. I take the 666 branding iron and hold it over the fire, slowly turning it to make sure all sides are equally heated. I’d hate to have to do it more than once.
When it’s burning red, Kashton and I walk over to her. “Where do you want it?” Kash asks her.
Snot, drool, and tears cover her face as she screams so loud, she begins to choke around the gag. “This is only the beginning,” I tell her, knowing that our fathers will make her life a living hell.
Kashton undoes the latch attached to the ball gag harness at the back of her head that forces her chin to the ceiling. He grips her hair and shoves her head down. I press the brand to the back of her neck. The smell of burning flesh fills the room and so does the sound of sizzling skin and her gagged scream.
