Chaotic (L.O.R.D.S. #7) — Chapter no 21

TWENTY-ONE

KASH TON

re turn to Carnage a couple of hours later. The ride did nothingI but fuck me up more. The way the men talked about Eve and then the conver sa tion I had with Adam…it’s giving me a headache.

At least Saint and Haidyn quit blowing up my phone.

I need to talk to them in person. Fill them in on what’s going on. I can’t just bring her here without giving them a heads-up. Especially if Ashtyn and Eve have a past. Adam said they weren’t friends, but will Ashtyn recognize her? If so, how will that go down? I haven’t been a fan of Ashtyn since she shot my brother. We put too much trust in her, thought she was one of us, and she betrayed Saint. I see that as a betrayal toward all of us. My brother loves her, and I re spect that, but I don’t have to accept her.

The moment the ele vator door slides open in the basement, “Hal‐ lelujah” by No Re solve hits my ears, informing me that Haidyn is in a mood.

A quick look at my watch tells me it’s a quarter till four in the morn‐ ing. He’s down here later than usual. Pushing the plastic strip cur‐ tains out of the way, I come face-to-face with Saint.

“Good luck.” He nods to me, walking by.

“What’s going on?” I ask, turning to face him.

“He’s been down here for two hours with that song on re peat.”

Then Saint disappears, walk ing toward the ele vator.

I continue through the basement and pass the pits, headed to the hallway where the cells are. I come up to the fourth on the right and see the door open.

The song blares from the concrete room. My brother’s bloody white T-shirt is wadded up on the floor while he stands in the cen ter with a lit cigarette between his lips. Hudson lies on the floor, curled up in a ball, soaking wet with blood cover ing his trembling, naked body.

“Haidyn?” I call out.

Reach ing up, he re moves the cigarette and turns to look at me. He appears calm as can be, and that kind of scares me a little. I’m not sure why. I’ve seen my broth ers throw some tem per tantrums and fuck shit up. But this is…different. He arches a brow at me.

“Everything okay?” I shout over the music.

Bringing the cigarette back to his lips, he takes in a drag, the end glowing in the darkly lit room. Once done, he flicks it down onto Hudson. He whimpers when it lands on his neck, and his hands flail to push it off. The man has no eyes. Haidyn ripped them out after he bragged that he watched videos of Haidyn fuck ing Charlotte. I would have done the same.

“Yeah, why?” he asks as the song comes to an end.

“Just won dering.” I glance at my Hublot. “It’s late. Or early…”

“We’re having a good day, aren’t we, Hudson?” He kicks the bas‐ tard in the stom ach, and he rolls away, cradling his arms around himself in a pro tective posture.

The song starts once again, and Haidyn re moves the pack of ciga‐ rettes from his jeans, lighting up an other one.

“Haidyn?”

I spin around to see a sleepy-looking Charlotte standing out side the cell in the hallway, wearing a T-shirt, cotton shorts, and a pair of fuzzy pink slippers, her heavy eyes on her husband.

“Hey, doll face.” He exits the cell and leans down, kissing her.

She pulls away, her eyes now show ing concern as they search his.

“Come back to bed.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Taking his bloody hand, she gives him a small smile. “I want you to come with me now.” Her eyes go from Hudson to him. “This can wait

until later.”

“Charlotte—”

“I want you,” she in terrupts him.

After a second, he kisses her fore head. “Head upstairs. I’ll be right behind you.” She goes to argue when he says, “Get undressed and crawl into bed for me.”

With one last look at Hudson, she turns and disappears down the hallway, headed back to the ele vator and up to their room.

Haidyn walks into the cell, turns off the music, and tells Hudson, “This isn’t your lucky day. I’ll be back to play with you after I fuck my wife.”

Hudson rolls over, giving us his back, and I follow Haidyn out of the cell as he closes the door and locks the bastard inside. “Want to talk about it?” I ask. Our talk about Eve will have to wait until another day. Adam said I had a few weeks. That gives me plenty of time to come up with a plan and then fill the guys in on it.

Haidyn comes to a stop, runs a bloody hand through his hair, and sighs. “While I was at Dollhouse, I hallucinated.”

I nod, re membering him telling the guys that they might have side effects from the founders’ en hancement.

“Are you still having side effects?” It’s only been a few weeks, but I wonder if that’s something he’ll have forever.

He shakes his head. “No. Yes…” Trailing off, he looks over at the cell and then back at me. “I got a call from Ryat around midnight. He hallucinated and needed someone to talk to.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Is he okay?”

“As well as a man who sees his wife and children getting tortured and murdered in front of him can be. It feels so real. No matter how much you tell your self it’s a hallucination.” He widens his stance and goes on. “After his call, I went back to sleep, and well…”

“Had a nightmare?” I guess when he trails off.

He doesn’t re spond, and I know that his call with Ryat brought Hai‐ dyn’s worst fear to life for him.

“She’s safe, man,” I as sure him. I never asked him what he saw happening to Charlotte when he was at Dollhouse. I didn’t need to.

“For now,” he growls. “But that doesn’t change what that moth er‐ fucker was going to do to her.”

I slap his bare shoulder. “Go upstairs and fuck your wife. He’ll still be down here when you’re done.” The bastard isn’t going anywhere.

He can’t see, for fuck’s sake. Devin made him a special mask for his face that covers the holes where his eyes once were. Haidyn didn’t want him to die from an infec tion—too easy, he said. No. He wants his death to be slow and dragged out over years. But at this rate, I’m not sure he’ll make it another week.

Haidyn turns to walk away but stops and faces me once more.

“Have you spoken to Sin?”

I shake my head.

“Give him a call.”

If it was only that easy. I would just show up at his house again, but I don’t want to upset Ellington. She’s been through enough, and she’s pregnant. I don’t want to put any more stress on her. Espe‐ cially after how much she cried when I took her to that appointment.

“He wants nothing to do with me.”

Haidyn moves again, and I follow him down the hall and into the open room where the pits are. He goes over to the sink in the corner and turns on the faucet before pouring soap into his hands. “Sin seemed pretty upset at Blackout the other day when Tyson called that meeting.” As he begins to wash his bloody arms, the remnants of his rage splash into the sink. “If Ryat’s having hallucinations, I can guarantee Sin is too.” Rins ing off all the suds, he turns off the water and grabs some towels before turn ing to face me. “And no matter how mad he is at you, I prom ise…he could use a friend.” With that, he tosses the wadded-up paper towels and walks away, headed to the ele vator to go upstairs to shower and fuck his wife.

I have no doubt that afterward, he’ll be right back down here tor‐ turing Hudson with that damn song on re peat.

I pull my cell out and go to Sin’s contact. I type out a mes sage but then delete it. It’s four in the morn ing. My meeting with Adam re‐ plays in my mind, and I debate about what to do. I can’t just ask Eve about her past. She’s not the type of woman to open up about her life. Not to someone like me anyway.

But sex? You can tell a lot about some one by how they like to fuck.

Or be fucked. In our world, you’re either the Dom or the sub, and I prom ise you, 99.9 percent of the time, the woman is the sub. And if Eve’s going to be someone’s toy, she’ll be mine.

I run up to my room, change my T-shirt, grab a hat, and pack a bag. I’m going to go see my girl for the second time tonight.

EVERETT Sixteen years old The door to my bed room swings open with a bang, and I quickly sit

up in bed.

“Get up,” my father orders.

Swallowing, I push the covers off and get to my feet. I want to ask where I’m going, but I al ready know. I’ve been going to the same appointment for the past couple of months.

They say I’m a woman, and a woman has re sponsibilities. What‐ ever that means.

I slide on my shoes and follow him out of my room. My feet are heavy, and my heart is bro ken. This life isn’t worth living. Not like it was before, but I refuse to believe this is all I get. And if it is, then I might as well just end it.

We come to a stop at the end of the hall, and he opens the door for me. He al ways stays. It’s to guarantee that I won’t attack the doctor. I tried once. Managed to hit her in the face before my father grabbed me by the neck and slammed me against the wall. It knocked me unconscious. When I woke up, I was strapped to the ta‐ ble with him looking over me. Afterward, I was placed in a strait‐ jacket for three days—punishment for my vio lent behavior.

“Hello, Eve.” The woman smiles at me as if she’s friendly. No one here is. “Come.” She pats the table. “Lie down for me.”

I know the routine, so I re move my shoes, sweat pants, and under‐ wear, and then I crawl up on the ta ble and lie down with my arms down by my sides, palms up. This position makes her feel safe. Who the fuck cares how I feel?

She straps my wrists to the ta ble so I can’t fight her, then does an‐ other over my upper chest and stomach. “Just a pre caution,” she tells me. “You won’t feel any pain.”

I swallow nervously, staring up at the ceiling. I’m al ways put in hu‐ miliat ing situ ations.

“Small poke,” she informs me before the IV is inserted into my arm.

Then a cold sensa tion runs through my veins, making me shiver.

g yg It only takes seconds before my eyes get heavy and my body re‐ laxes into the ta ble. I hate the drugs. It feels like cheating. I’d rather kick and scream and make them fight me than succumb to drugs

that pull me un der and make me weak.

“I’m go ing to begin.”

I run my hand through my hair. This is why I choose to drink myself into a coma every night. To quiet the demons that re mind me every day of who I once was.

How I had no say or control over my own body. I’m not sure what it was she did. Everything was al ways foggy after that. I would wake up in my room, hurting and sore for a few days. My father would come in and force pain pills down my throat. Just when I thought I was feeling like myself, the time would come to visit her again. It was an endless cycle.

If I were lucky, my addiction would have killed me, but that’s not possi ble.

Taking a swig, I gasp at the burn and rub away the al co hol that runs down my chin. I sit in the cemetery, like any other night, in front of the unmarked grave with a bottle of Jack in my hand. It’s cold outside. More so than it’s been.

I haven’t fallen into a black hole, but I’m teetering on the edge.

The thought of diving off headfirst sounds good. Maybe the drop will kill me. But I’m never that lucky in life. Why would I be in a fictional scenario?

Tipping the bottle back again, I down what’s left of it and toss it aside.

I lie down on the uneven ground and close my heavy eyelids. I just want to sleep my life away. It’ll help pass the time.

The sound of branches has me jolting up. I slam my back into the unmarked head stone when I see some one step into the dim ceme‐ tery lighting.

“Goddammit, Kash,” I hiss when he makes himself comfortable against the same tree as the last time he followed me here.

“I went looking for you earlier.”

Even though it’s a cool night, he’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans with a backward baseball hat. He drops a black duffel bag by his feet,

and it instantly makes me nervous. Mainly because I don’t have mine with me this time. I’ve let my guard down and allowed him to

fuck me twice now.

“Don’t you have a life?”

“I’m looking at it,” he answers, eyes on mine.

I glance away, ignor ing the butterflies in my stomach when he comes around. In stead, I get to my feet, brush off my jeans, and slap my hands together to dust off the dirt. “Go home, Kash. Quit following me.” I give him my back and start walking through the cemetery, deeper into the woods. I need to clear my head, and I don’t have my bag on me, so I don’t have any drugs to knock him

out with.

“I’m bored.”

His choice of words stops me. A cold chill makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Adam said he’d be bored. That I needed to be care ful. Is this a coincidence?

The sound of the branches breaking under his boots swirls around the aban doned cemetery with the wind, but I stay grounded where I’m at. It gets louder before it comes to a stop, and I can feel the heat from his body on my back.

“I want to play with you,” he declares, making me shiver. His hands tangle in my wind-blown hair as he gathers it from around my shoul‐ ders and holds it cap tive at the nape of my neck. “Will you play with

me?”

I’ve never had any friends toplay with.

Swallowing nervously, I keep my back to him and ask. My curios ity is getting the best of me. “What do you have in mind?”

“Hide-and-seek,” he suggests, and it makes me smile.

I turn around, my hair sliding through his fingers, to glance up at

him. “Hide-and-seek?” I arch a brow.

“What?”

I reach out, resting my hands on his hard chest. I can feel his heart beating slow and steady under the thin mate rial of his shirt. “That… sounds a little be low you. Childish.”

The cor ner of his lips twitch. “I have an adult ver sion in mind.”

The smile drops off my face, and I whisper, “Mean ing?”

“You hide, but when I find you, you belong to me.”

My stomach twists, but wetness drips from my pussy. Be long to Kashton Landon Pierce? Never in my wildest dreams did I think that’d be an option. But as he stands here in the flesh, the thought doesn’t sound so bad. Dropping my hands, I take a step back from him. “What are you going to do, brand me or some thing?” I give a rough laugh to try and play off the fact that my pulse is racing.

He runs his tatted knuckles over my collarbone before wrapping his hand around my throat. I don’t fight him when he steps into me.

“Once I find you, you’ll be mine to play with for the next forty-eight hours.”

Dis appointment washes over me. I thought he wanted me forever, but I push it out of my mind. Maybe it’s the bottle of liquor I downed making me crazy.

He’s a man—the thing I hate most in the world. Since when do I want to let any man play with me? “I’m not interested in being your toy, Kashton,” I decide to say.

His hand tightens a little more, but still not to the point of cutting off my air. “You can lie to your self, an gel, but you can’t lie to me. I know what you want.”

Oh re ally? “What is that?” This will be good.

“Someone to control you.” He tilts his head to the side and my heart leaps in my chest. “You need a man to tell you what to do and how to do it.”

My eyes narrow up at him because his words have my body hum‐ ming with need. I’ve done so good for years, and he wrecks it within a week. I let him fuck me twice, and all of a sudden, my body wants him. It’s like having a first hit and always chasing that same high.

He gives my throat a warning squeeze, as if to shut my mind up and place my attention back on him.

“I’ll control when you eat and when you sleep.” His hand pulls me closer to his body, and I have to arch to keep eye contact. I grip the soft mate rial of his shirt as he continues. “How you’re fucked and when you can come.”

I swallow, and it grants me a devious smirk; he knows his words are getting to me.

“I bet you’re wet right now just thinking about it.”

I lick my lips.

“It’s okay to want to be my whore, Eve.” He frowns as if he can’t fathom why I wouldn’t want to be a toy for him. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be used.”

But there is. It’s not who I’ve worked so hard to be. “Go to hell,” I tell him.

His frown deepens at my re jec tion. “It’ll just be me and you, Eve.”

My knees threaten to buckle. Does he know about my past? That I’ve been used and passed around? I’ve never had someone who only wanted me to themselves. I’ve never been enough.

“No one watching. Just us.”

What’s one more time? We’ve al ready been here twice. Even though I hated myself af terward, it felt good in the moment.

“Okay.” The single word slips from my trembling lips before my mind can even process what I said. My body wants him. Even now, it’s leaning into him. I’m having an internal battle, wanting to slam a knife into his chest as badly as I want to fall to my knees to let him fuck my face how ever he likes.

My mind knows right from wrong, but my body…she’s only ever known what he described.

“Okay what, angel? You’re going to have to tell me what you want.”

I glance up at him through my lashes, taking in a shaky breath. “I’ll play hide-and-seek. If you find me, I’ll be yours for forty-eight

hours.”

“When I find you,” he corrects me.

“What do I get if you don’t?” The thought of him not finding me is what scares me. What if this is a trick? What if he wants to see me hide and he doesn’t even come after me? A way to set me up. To see how desperate I am.

He re moves his hand from my neck, and I shiver from the coldness.

Kashton chuckles at my question and glances at his watch. “You’ve got sixty seconds and then I’m coming to get you.”

“I can’t get very far in sixty seconds.” I smile playfully. My adrena‐ line is al ready pump ing. He was right the last time we stood here in

the cemetery, when he said saving me from the guy on theIsabella turned me on.

He was there when I needed him, and he’s the first guy to never disappoint me. So far.

“This isn’t about running, Eve. It’s about hid ing,” he clarifies. “And you’re wasting valuable time. Run and hide.”

I turn around and rush through the cemetery, stepping on old graves and dodging unmarked head stones in my chunky boots.

There’s a mausoleum in the far back that I can hide inside of.

Looking over my shoulder, I no longer see him and smile at myself.

The old concrete struc ture comes into view, and I take a sharp right.

Walk ing up the two steps, I push open one of the heavy doors and step inside.

Pressing my back against it, I blink, giving my eyes a second to ad‐ just while I catch my breath. Drinking and running are not two things I suggest be done together.

It has three stained-glass windows that run across the top of the opposite end, but they don’t allow much light to filter in. Especially on a night like tonight. The lingering musty smell has me turn ing up my nose. You can hear the wind out side. It’s so strong it makes the tree limbs rustle against the side of the building.

Pulling my cell out of my back pocket, I turn on the flash light to see better.

It’s on the smaller side. Built from nothing other than concrete.

Both the right and left walls contain past Lords concealed in their tombs. Each side is stacked four high and three deep.

There’s a small bench in the center of the room so you can sit and pay your re spects or cry for the Lord who’s been tucked away from the world they betrayed.

There are dirt and dead leaves all over the floor. My boots crunch them as I walk to the back. Two concrete pillars stand tall on either side, and two more Lords lie between them in concrete tomb-like struc tures.

They must be re ally important. Lords are allowed to be buried wherever they want—with their families. It’s the ones who betray their oaths that are brought and dumped here in the cemetery be‐

hind the cathedral. So for these Lords to have been placed in the mausoleum—a private burial within concrete—means they were very re spected. Founders, maybe? Even those, I’ve known to be burned and tossed away with the wind if they’ve fucked over the society.

Stepping up on the platform, I run my hand over the dirt-covered crypts. There are no names carved that I can see, just bodies forgot‐ ten and left to rot.

This will be me one day. Once I’m gone, no one will come and visit me. I’m not mad about it. I’ve just learned it’s the way of life. No one cares about you when you’re alive or when you’re dead.

It makes me think of the woman I found in the cemetery. Left to rot all alone after she spent God knows how long being tortured. Her family deserved to know what happened to her. She deserved to rest in peace.

The sound of the doors opening behind me is a re minder that I was supposed to be hid ing. But deep down, I re ally want to be found.

I’ve spent so many years alone; what’s forty-eight hours belong ing to someone? Even if it is just as a toy for him to play with.

The liquor has my blood warming, and the thought of Kashton fuck‐ ing me has my pussy clenching. It’s going to be a good night after all.

“Found you, an gel. Know what that means?”

I hide my smile before I turn around to face him, shining my flash‐ light in order to see. He’s standing in front of the closed doors, his tatted arms crossed over his chest and his duffel bag on the dirty concrete floor at his combat boots. His hat is still on and turned backward. His chiseled jaw and pretty blue eyes make me weak in the knees.

My flash light makes him look evil and hauntingly dev ilish. Like a god coming to take me away. But I’m not going to heaven. None of us do in our world. It’s a one-way trip to hell.

My eyes meet his when I say, “I’m all yours for the next forty-eight hours.” I’ve tried to kill myself twice. I might as well live my life while I’m alive.