Chaotic (L.O.R.D.S. #7) — Chapter no 47

FORTY-SEVEN

KASH TON

y phone vibrat ing on my chest has me opening my eyes toM see it’s dark in the room now other than the TV. I must have fallen asleep with Eve once I got her settled in. It vibrates once more, and I pick it up to see it’s a video from an unknown number who’s started a group chat with Haidyn, Saint, Bill, and me.

Fucking Evan. Well, this tells me all I need to know—the moth er‐ fucker isn’t dead.

I take a look at Eve to see she’s passed out beside me when a soft knock comes on my bedroom door.

Getting out of bed, I grab a pair of jeans off the floor. I took my bloody clothes off once I got her up to my room. I open the door, running a hand through my hair to see Haidyn and Saint al ready in the hallway. “We’re going to watch it in the basement.”

“Give me a second.” I close the door and go back over to the bed and kiss her cheek. When she doesn’t show any signs of waking, I’m sure she’ll re main asleep. I don’t want her to wake up and be scared that I’m not here.

Ex iting the room, we silently ride the ele vator down to the base‐ ment and push through the plastic strip curtains. Saint connects his phone to the TV that hangs on the wall in the corner.

“We should bring Isabella out,” I say, and they both turn to look at me. “I’d bet my life this is about Eve and Dollhouse.” Who else would it be about? Evan is fucking with me. He wants me to see his dolly. Every chance he gets, he wants to re mind me of how much she wanted him. “She was in the last one.” I’ve avoided going to her,

afraid she’d tell my brothers too much information about Eve. Now I know this bitch knows everything.

Haidyn nods. “I’ll get her,” he agrees, then takes off down the hall‐ way to get the fuck ing bitch.

While Saint is connecting the feed, Haidyn drags Isabella into the room and shoves her to the floor. “Kneel,” he barks, positioning her on her knees.

“It’s ready,” Saint announces, pointing the re mote up to the TV, and the video starts to play.

The room looks different from the other video we watched.

This one has padded walls. It re minds me of a psych ward. There’s a chair in the middle of the room that re sem bles a dentist’s chair.

Evan enters and holds the door open. Blood drips from an open wound on his right cheek. I hope my girl is who gave it to him. “Put her in the chair,” he orders.

The same younger kid from the pre vious video drags Eve in and tosses her into the chair.

I run a hand down my face when I see they’ve got her in a strait‐ jacket. Other than that, she’s naked.

Her head falls back, and her eyes wander aimlessly around the room. A fresh red mark evident on her face tells me she attacked him and was then re strained and slapped around.

“You seem to like pain, Eve.” Evan laughs. “Let’s test and see how much.” He picks up his cell and presses a few buttons. Then she be‐ gins to move, her hips rocking back and forth in the chair and her eyes falling closed on a whimper.

She’s got a vibrator in. Makes me won der if it’s in her pussy or ass.

Possibly both.

He keeps his back to the camera, getting items ready, laying them out on a tray. “Put this on her and strap her down. Nice and tight. I don’t want her moving while I work.” Evan throws what looks like a black leather collar over his shoulder to the young Lord, who then pushes her to sit up so he can place it around her neck. It’s a pos‐ ture collar with a mouth cover. It comes high enough to also cover up her cheeks and lips.

He fastens the six belts behind her before pushing her to lie down.

It forces her to arch her neck in the new position. The kid then pro‐ ceeds to strap her ankles, thighs, and chest down to the chair before he takes a step back and watches her.

By the way her eyes are unfo cused and her lack of fight, I’d say she’s either going in and out of consciousness or she’s getting off on the vi brator.

When Evan turns around, I frown, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s up to. He rolls the tray next to her chair and grabs the last strap from under the chair and buckles it over her fore head, hold ing her head down to the chair with her neck arched back from the strict collar. “How’s your cunt feel?” he asks, slapping her thigh, and her body jerks when she moans.

He smiles. “Yeah. I knew you’d come around. Too bad you couldn’t have done this sooner, dolly. But just in case you decide to misbe‐ have again, I want to give you a re minder of who is in charge here.”

He then picks up a pair of gloves and slides them over his hands.

Moving to her nose, he starts pinching it and moving his fin gers around while she lies there strapped to the chair.

“That’s the sweet spot,” he says to himself before picking up a square white packet and ripping it open. It’s an antiseptic wipe. He pro ceeds to clean her nose before he tosses it to the side and grabs a tool from the tray I recognize as Pennington forceps. Evan places it on her septum where his fingers just were, the clamps pinching it tightly.

She blinks rapidly, her eyes instantly filling with unshed tears at the discomfort they cause.

“Don’t worry. All slaves get a bull ring. It’s to show you’re just an animal. A pet to be trained. Once you’re sold, your owner can choose to re move it.” He then picks up the needle. I expect her to scream into the gag and fight, but she places her tear-filled eyes on the ceiling, her breathing picking up and her nostrils flaring.

My heart swells for my girl even as my stomach knots. She’s trying to be tough. To prove that she can take whatever he does to her. Ei‐ ther that, or she’s given up. I don’t even want to think about that.

They said she had al ready tried suicide once before she ar rived at

Dollhouse. She hasn’t tried inside of Dollhouse yet if he said she was still fighting him.

He pushes the needle through her septum, and her eyes scrunch shut while he pushes the silver ring in simulta neously. Evan starts to screw the silver ring in place as he says, “Now, typically, a septum is pierced with a sixteen or an eigh teen gauge. This is a 14-gauge. And in a few weeks, I will stretch it to a 12-gauge. It will be painful but doable, of course. You will be unable to re move it, for it is perma‐ nent and will be up to your owner’s discre tion.”

She still had it on the night of theIsabella. I thought it was dainty and cute. Now I feel sick to my stomach see ing why she had it.

Tears run out the corners of her eyes, and she breathes heavily through her freshly pierced nose. “Take her back to her room,” he orders, re moving his gloves and walking to stand back at the counter behind her.

The kid undoes the re straints and lifts her to stand from the chair, but her legs give out and she falls to her knees.

“Sir?” he asks, stepping back from a shaking Eve.

Evan walks back to her. He grips her hair, shoving her face to the floor. Crouching beside her, she shoves her ass and pussy up in the air, and he runs his hand between her legs and brings it to his face, rubbing his wet fin gers together. “Came all over your toy like a good whore.” He pulls her to standing by her hair, and she screams into the gag before Evan shoves her into the guy. “Re turn her as is.”

“The collar, sir?” the kid asks cautiously.

“Just as she is,” Evan shouts at him.

“Yes, sir.” He nods and pulls her out of the room as the door shuts behind them.

Evan adjusts his noticeably hard dick in his jeans. “Teach the bitch to fuck ing bite me.”

The video goes black just as my cell vibrates in my hand. I ignore it, knowing it’s Bill.

“What do you have to say about this?” Haidyn barks at Isabella.

She looks away from him, but he grips her face, forc ing him to meet her stare. “You let that piece of shit torture my sister?”

She smiles, though it’s not friendly. “So you’ve met your father’s whore?”

“How about this… Everything we watch him do to her, we do to you,” he offers, and her face pales.

My phone vibrates, and I see it’s a text from Easton.

When you have a second, give me a call.

“Kash—”

I ignore Saint and shove open the door to the stairs, going up the first flight, coming to the landing, I press my back to the wall and slide down to sit on my ass. I try and catch my breath. I’m fuck ing shaking I’m so mad. What I saw…I hate it for Eve. Hate that I can’t change it. That no matter what I say, I can’t save her from herself.

I go to Sin’s number and press Call, placing my cell to my ear.

“Hey,” he an swers softly.

I clear my throat. “Hey. Everything okay?” I ask, think ing some‐ thing is wrong with the babies. I’ve been hid ing out with Eve and haven’t had a chance to be there for him or Elli since Devin and Gavin delivered them.

He sighs. “Yeah. I’m calling to check on you and Eve. How is she doing?”

I slam the back of my head into the wall and look up the flight of stairs. “I don’t know,” I answer hones tly. She’s kept so much bottled up for so long. At some point she’s going to explode. And what is Evan doing? Why now? She’s gone years with out re membering much from Dollhouse, and now he wants her to? Does he think he still has some kind of hold over her and that she’s going to go crawling back to him? If that’s the case, he fucked up. Now that she re members, she despises him more than ever.

“Re member when I had you take Elli to that appointment?” he

asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yeah.”

“Well, you took her to a therapist…” He trails off.

“Just spit it out, Sin.” I sigh, run ning a hand down my face.

“We don’t want to over step, but we want to offer help in any way we can. Elli has an appointment tomorrow, and if Eve would like to take it, Elli will call and speak to the doctor. Ex plain the details…with‐

out giving any information about Eve, of course.” He pauses. “But I understand if that’s too much—”

“No,” I interrupt him. “It’s not too much.”

He adds. “She has no connections to the Lords in any way.”

“That’s very nice of you guys. Thank you. Please give her my infor‐ mation, and we’ll be there.”

I hang up and get to my feet, running up the stairs to my room.

Fuck Isabella. The bitch isn’t going anywhere. I want Eve. My angel.

She needs me now more than ever. I find her still in bed asleep.

It has to help, right? If Elli sees a therapist, then the idea can’t be as bad as I thought. They’re not going to drag her away from me and place her in a padded room. It’s just one conver sa tion. For her to talk to some one who won’t judge her. Who knows what to say,

what to do, and how to help.

A pro fes sional.

EVERETT I sit in the passenger seat of the Cadillac Escalade V. The guys keep several in the garage at Carnage. Kashton flies down the highway. I woke up this morn ing and he helped me shower. Then Devin came by and looked at my bandages.

But we haven’t spoken. There’s tension between us, and even though he’s right next to me, I’ve never felt so alone. So disgusted with myself.

Not only does Kashton know my past, but so do his broth ers. It’s humiliat ing.

He exits the highway and pulls into a parking lot. Getting out, he opens my door and takes my hand. We walk up a short flight of steps and enter a glass door. “Have a seat,” he orders, going over to a desk while I sit down. Looking around, I try to decide where the fuck we are.

Kashton speaks softly to a woman behind the desk, and she glances at me a few times before putting her attention back on him.

It makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. What the fuck is he doing?

“Miss Sinclair?” a woman calls from an open door to my right.

Kashton looks at her and then to me. He strolls over, grabs my hand, and pulls me to stand. “It’s okay,” he as sures me, brushing my hair off my shoul ders. “I’ll be right here waiting on you.”

“I don’t…”

“Hello, Everett.” The woman smiles brightly at me, and I’m con‐ fused as fuck.

Kashton ushers me through the door, and the lady closes it behind me.

I tense. There’s a couch, two chairs, and a love seat, along with a desk, and it smells of vanilla. I must be going crazy.

“Please have a seat.” She gestures to the couch.

I remain standing, trying to come up with a logical explanation for where I am and why. Kashton wouldn’t do this to me.

Her soft-brown eyes trace the Steri-Strips on my face from where Evan hit me with my gun so hard it cut my cheek. Then they drop to my bruised neck, and I swallow nervously. “It’s okay, Everett. I’m here for you.”

My chest begins to burn at her words. I’ve heard them before, and it was a lie.

I spin around, yank open the door, and rush out of the room. “Ass‐ hole,” I snap at Kashton, rush ing past where he still stands at the desk, then out the front door.

“Eve? Eve, wait. What happened?” he calls out, chasing me down the steps.

I come to a stop, turn, and punch him in the face, ignor ing the way my hand in stantly throbs.

His base ball hat falls off his head in the process. “Fuck,” he groans into his hands, cupping his nose.

“Oh my God.” The lady from the front desk gasps from the top of the steps. “I’ll call the po lice.”

“No. No. No,” he rushes out, waving at her. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

He turns back to look at me, looking confused and wounded. Bend‐ ing over, he picks up his hat and slides it on backward.

“But she—”

“I said we’re fucking fine,” he snaps at the woman over his shoul‐ der.

I’m fucking shaking. “How could you?” I scream, slamming my fists

into his chest.

“What?” He sighs. “What did I do?”

“A therapist? Re ally?” What in the fuck was he told? What would

make him think this is okay?

“I’m trying to help,” he grinds out.

“Well, stop,” I shout.

He tosses his head back and laughs—a manic, body-shaking laugh —before running his hand down his bloody face. “I don’t know what to do, Eve.” His eyes frantically search mine. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“I’m fine.” I take a step back from him. There’s nothing he can do, and the fact that he wants to help proves that he now sees me as bro ken. What happened to the man who wanted to collar and chain me up in his basement? He’s no longer here. Now this man wants me to seek pro fes sional help? He wants me to allow a stranger to cut me open and bleed. For what? Re demp tion? To be whole for him?

“Quit fuck ing lying to me,” he snaps. “And for God’s sake, quit lying to your self.”

I go to slap him, but he catches my hand and yanks me toward the Escalade. At least it’s not back into the building.

I pull free, turn, and start to run in the opposite direction, but he’s quicker. Wrapping an arm around me from behind, I yelp when he picks me up and places me in the SUV before slamming the door. He storms around the hood, rips open his door, and falls into the driver’s side.

“Want to beat the shit out of me?” he screams. “Do it in the fuck ing car. Not in public.” He throws the car into drive and squeals his tires.

“Fine,” I growl and reach across the center console to hit him with both my fists. I rip his hat off his head and grip the bill, hitting him with it before I toss it to the back and continu ing with my fists.

He tries his best to block me, but I get a few more hits in before I give up. I’m trembling at what he did. It feels like such a betrayal.

He thinks I’m bro ken. I am, but I thought he was different.

This is what my father—Garrett—re quired. He made me seek ther‐ apy. Made me sit in a straitjacket and talk about my feelings. It was a way to control me. To fuck with my mind. To convince me I was in‐ sane and that all fathers treated their daughters the way he did me.

Even Bill didn’t force me into therapy after he found me. He let me work out my is sues my own way. Maybe that’s the problem. I never

did work them out.

“Are you done?” he snaps.

“No.” I hit him one more time in the arm and then plop back in my seat.

My heavy breath ing fills the car, and he runs a hand through his hair before letting out a huff of annoyance.

I’m trembling, and angry tears sting my eyes. I drop my head to see my jeans have blood on them. At first I think it’s from the hand I used to hit him with, but then I re alize it’s from my cut. “Fuck,” I whisper, pressing my shaking hand on it. The pain causes me to hiss

in a breath.

“What?”

I blink away the tears and look out the passenger window. “Fuck you, Kash—”

He yanks my hand away and growls. “Goddammit.”

“If you wouldn’t have picked me up…”

He gives a rough laugh. “Me? If you wouldn’t have made a scene.”

“I was try ing to leave,” I scream.

“I’m trying to help you,” he shouts.

Deafening silence fills the car, and he reaches down, undoing his belt. When he rips it free and hands it to me, he says, “Put it around your thigh. Nice and tight. It’ll hold until we get back.”

“I’m fine.” I cross my arms over my chest, re fus ing his help and hoping that I bleed all over his seat. That’s the least I can do after what he just tried.

He veers off the road and slams on the brakes, causing my seat belt to tighten on me. Leaning over, he lifts my leg, making me grind my teeth while he slides his belt underneath it and ties it off. I think it’s tighter than it needs to be.

I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out. He grips my chin, placing his face in front of mine. “You might not care if you bleed out, but I do.”

Those an gry tears re turn, and I swallow the knot lodged in my throat. He loosens his hold on my face and runs the back of his tat‐ ted knuckles along my bruised cheek. “I love you, Eve. I’m trying to show you how much. Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I can do to help you, and I’ll do it.”

My eyes search his, but I don’t answer because I’m not sure what can be done. I can tell he sees me differently now, and I hate it.

This is why I don’t get close to anyone. I pre fer to live in my bub ble, where I’m just a nobody. “Just take me home,” I whis per.