Chaotic (L.O.R.D.S. #7) — Chapter no 48

FORTY-EIGHT

KASH TON

e pull up to Carnage, and she growls. “I told you to take meW home.”

Coming to a stop, I reach around my seat to the floorboard, grab‐ bing my hat and slipping it on. “This is your home.” I get out of the car and go over to open hers.

“Kashton, no.” She tries to stay in her seat, but I pick her up and carry her up the steps and inside.

En tering the hospital wing, I bark, “Where the fuck is Devin?”

“I’m right here. What’s wrong?” he asks, coming down the hall.

“She ripped her leg open.”

He ush ers us into a room, and I set her on the gurney.

“I said I’m fine,” she argues, trying to get up, but I push her down

by her shoulders.

“Re strain her,” I order Devin.

Ninety-nine percent of the people he sees here are prisoners of Carnage. Every bed, ta ble, or gurney we have is out fitted with re‐ straints for the prisoners who need medical attention. They can’t be trusted.

“What?” Eve gasps, her wide eyes on me. “Kashton…no.” She starts to fight, but Devin is quick at getting her wrists in the medical re‐ straints and then her ankles. Once done, I let go of her, and she nar‐ rows her eyes on mine. “I fucking hate you.” She throws her head back onto the gurney, and a sob breaks through. “I…hate you.”

Devin cuts open her jeans with a pair of scissors, and I sit down on the couch next to the bed, dropping my head in my hands, listening to her cry.

“She’s ripped it open. I’m going to have to numb the area, clean

the wound, and stitch it.”

“Then fuck ing do it,” I snap at Devin.

He leaves the room, and I stand, running a hand down my face. I walk over to the side of the bed and push her wild hair from her tear-streaked cheeks.

“Please?” Her bloodshot eyes meet mine, and they look like the same ones I saw on the tapes. When she begged Evan not to hurt her.

Am I doing the same thing? Am I hurt ing her by keeping her here?

No. I’m helping her. I’m pro tecting her from them. If she goes back to her house, Evan could show up again and hurt her. Or worse, she could kill herself before he gets the chance. She admitted to us that she’d had the thought. Haidyn wasn’t wrong that she needs help.

I’m going to be the one to do it.

I have to pro tect her from the world and herself.

“Please, Kash.” She arches her back and slams down onto the gur‐ ney.

“Let it out, angel,” I tell her. Maybe she will exert herself and fall asleep.

Her body tenses as she pulls on the re straints, a cry ripping from

her lips.

“It’s okay to be mad,” I tell her.

The door opens, and I expect it to be Devin, but it’s Haidyn. “What the fuck happened?” he barks, rushing in with Saint.

Fuck this day. “She’s fine.” I want to slap myself. It’s the same thing she told me, and I called her a liar.

He looks at the re straints and her blood-covered jeans, how she’s got her head turned toward me, away from the door while she sobs into the pillow.

He steps forward, and I walk around the end of the bed. “You need

to leave.”

“Kash—”

“Get the fuck out, Haidyn,” I bark. I’m not in the mood to deal with him right now. One thing at a time, and my girl always comes first.

Saint rushes to close the space between us, his hands on our chests. “Not in here,” he urges.

Haidyn turns and leaves, with Saint following to calm him down.

I walk back over to Everett and sit down, taking her hand in mine. I hold it, but she doesn’t hold it back. It lies limp.

She tries to pull it away, but the re straints don’t allow it. “I’m sorry, Eve,” I tell her, running my free hand over her soft hair. “I’m so sorry.”

She’s going to hate me. Fine. Let her hate me. This is who I am. A Lord who controls his Lady. She may not be my wife yet, but she will be, and I’m going to do a lot of things that she isn’t going to agree with.

The door opens, and I look up to see Devin with all his supplies.

“May I speak to you for a mo ment?”

I let go of her hand and move to the other side of the room, where he whispers, “I can numb the area, but there’s al ways a possibility she’ll tear them open again if they don’t have the time to heal.” I glance over my shoulder, and she’s struggling in the re straints, trying her best to get free while she cries so hard her body trembles.

I place my attention back on him. “Se date her.” I know what he’s asking, and she needs the rest. He needs her calm in order to help her, and I’d rather him not have to do this to her again.

He nods. “Yes, sir.”

Re turn ing to her side, I cup her cheek, rubbing the re maining tears away, and kiss her fore head while Devin pre pares the syringe. He rubs the al cohol on her upper arm before he gives her the seda tive.

“You’re going to be okay, Eve. I’m not doing this to hurt you,” I ex‐ plain.

Her body re laxes into the gurney, eyes on mine when they grow heavy, but as they close, she whispers, “You’re just like them.”

I lie next to Eve in our bed. She’s been out for about an hour now.

I keep fuck ing up. Nothing I ever do is right or good enough. I’m try ing, but that doesn’t matter.

My tatted knuckles softly brush her hair from her bruised cheek.

I’m going to rip Evan apart. Tear him to fuck ing pieces with my bare hands.

I’ll make sure she gets the re venge she deserves.

My cell rings and I roll over to pick it up off my night stand. BILL lights up the screen. “Hello?” I ask, getting out of bed, not wanting to wake her. Devin said she’d be out for a few hours, but I want her to get as much rest as she can.

“I re ceived a video,” he says in greeting.

I frown and pull the phone from my face to look at my mes sages.

“I don’t see anything new to the group chat.”

“It came to me. Per son ally.”

“Okay.” I draw out the word. “What’s on it?”

“I’m go ing to forward it to you. Call me after you watch it.”

Click.

I lean my head back and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. My phone beeps in my hand, and I open it. Stepping out onto my bal‐ cony, I take a quick look at her in bed. She hasn’t moved. Falling down into a chair, I press Play on the video.

“Where is she?” Bill de mands, standing in a hallway with Isabella.

“William—”

“Don’t lie to me. Trent told me she’s here.” He gives her his back and shouts. “Everett?”

“She’s not going to hear you,” Isabella states. She stands in a pair of high heels and an ele gant black dress. It looks like Bill caught her before a dinner date with her husband—his best friend.

Bill spins around to face her, and she holds her hand up. “But I will allow you to see her.”

Bill snorts at her choice of words, but Isabella holds all the power.

The cameras change to a new hallway, and they enter a room.

Evan sits behind a desk, typing away on his cell. He stiffens when he looks up to see his father with Isabella. “What are you doing here?”

Evan de mands, getting to his feet.

“He’s here to see Everett.”

Evan gives a rough laugh. “There are no vis iting hours.”

“Don’t test me, Evan,” Bill growls. “I want to see her. Now.”

His son straightens his shoulders and opens his mouth, but Isabella

says, “Take us to her.”

“She’s in isola tion at the moment.”

“Why the fuck is she in isola tion?” Bill de mands.

“She’s being punished?” Isabella arches a brow at Evan, and he nods. “Well”—she waves a hand in the air—“five minutes can’t hurt.

Take us to her.”

Evan clenches his jaw and stomps past them out of the office, and they follow af ter him.

The cameras change once more to another hallway, and they come up to a door. Evan grabs a set of keys from his pocket and goes to open it when Bill asks, “What’s this red light?” He points to it on the wall.

“Live feed,” Evan answers through gritted teeth.

“Turn it off,” Isabella orders him.

Evan pulls his cell from his pocket and does as he’s told. Opening the door, it creaks as light filters into a small concrete room from the hallway.

“Eve.” Bill rushes to the girl lying on the floor.

I cover my mouth with my hand when I get a look at her. She’s on her side, arms tied behind her back with rope that wraps around her waist and upper chest. Her thighs and ankles are also tied.

The room can’t be any bigger than four feet by four feet; she couldn’t even stretch out to lie flat if she wanted to, and there isn’t a single light in the room.

“Everett?” Bill shakes her, but she shows no sign of consciousness.

“What’s wrong with her?” he demands, but neither answers him. He feels her neck for a pulse and curses. Then he yanks his suit jacket off and lays it over her. “She’s freezing.” Then he starts to untie her ankles.

Evan steps forward, but Isabella reaches out, placing a hand on his chest, and shakes her head at him. He tenses, stepping back.

“What did you give her?” Bill snaps. “It’s obvious she’s been drugged. And when was the last time you gave her something to eat?”

“It takes forty-five days to die of starvation. She’s only been here two weeks,” Evan quips.

Bill looks up at him with narrowed eyes. “You allow this?” He glances at Isabella. “He’s killing her.”

Isabella checks her watch and sighs. “Take her to the in firmary.”

“What?” Evan growls. “But she’s—”

“I’ll give you one million for her, but she leaves with me. Now,” Bill

interrupts him.

“Absolutely not,” Evan snaps.

“You don’t get to decide,” Bill tells him and looks at Isabella. “You’re going to sell her anyway. I’ll buy her now. Two million.”

She arches a brow in thought.

“She’s not being sold.” Evan crosses his arms over his chest.

“What?” Bill snaps looking back and forth between them. “What is he talking about?”

“We’ve found better use for her,” Evan answers.

Bill’s face whitens when he asks, “What the fuck is it?”

“She’s going to be a re cruiter.” He gives an evil smile.

“No.” Bill shakes his head. “She’ll never do it.”

Evan throws his head back. “Eve will do whatever I tell her to do.

I’m the one she answers to. I’m the one who gives her orders.”

Bill runs a hand down his face, stressing. “Three million.”

Isabella opens her mouth, but Evan beats her to it. “No amount of money will allow you to leave with her. She is going to bring in ten times that. Every woman she helps us take will be trained and sold.

She is worth way more here than a quick buck.” He looks his father

up and down with disgust.

“Isabella,” Bill growls.

“Take her, Evan,” she orders. “Get her some flu ids and food. You can continue her punishment in a couple of days. She’s worth noth‐ ing to us dead.”

Evan huffs, bends down, and picks up her limp body before he car‐ ries her out of frame.

Bill begins to pace the narrow hallway before turn ing to Isabella.

“You can’t do this.”

“I can do what ever I want.”

“Goddammit,” Bill shouts. “Aimee would kill you for this.”

She purses her lips, glancing away before she says, “Aimee knew the risks when she decided she wanted to be initiated.”

“She would not have done this to your daughter. To Annabelle. For fuck’s sake, Isabella, she was your best friend.”

Isabella softly laughs. “Yes, she would have.” Stepping into him, she lowers her voice. “I’m a woman in a man’s world. I have to take what I want.”

“Eve is innocent.” Bill fists his hands.

“Maybe.” She shrugs. “But you know the rules. She must serve the Lords. One way or another.” Isabella gives him her back to walk away.

But his words stop her. “If Evan kills Eve, I will burn this place down. With you in it.” She turns back to face him. “I will not give up on her.”

Isabella smiles at him before turn ing once more and leaving him standing in the hallway alone.

The video ends, and I lean forward with my elbows on my knees

and place my phone to my ear.

“Hello?” Bill answers.

“What the fuck was that?” I bark. “You told us you didn’t know where Dollhouse was, but you’ve been there?”

“No. I told you I was waiting for confirmation that Haidyn was there. I couldn’t show up with Charlotte until Isabella told me it was okay to bring her. I had been there several times.”

“Why don’t I believe anything you say?” I growl.

He sighs. “I understand this is difficult…”

“Difficult?” I shout, standing. “If you knew where Dollhouse was, you could have taken them down years ago.” Adam’s boss—the de‐ tective on Bill’s private jet—told us that they had been looking for their location. Bill knew all along and could have helped them. The boss probably has no idea that Bill was hold ing out on him.

“No one was going to take her down,” he snaps. “There were too many Lords helping Isabella keep that place running. What did you want me to do? Call the cops?” He snorts. “I needed help. I needed…more.”

“You needed us,” I growl. “You used me, Saint, and the oth ers. You let Haidyn sit in there and be tortured in order to get what you wanted.”

“It was to save your brother,” he shouts. “I had to save not only Haidyn, but Charlotte. Hell, I had al ready failed Eve.” Bill lowers his voice. “I may be a Lord, but sometimes that isn’t enough.”

EVERETT Nineteen years old I blink, try ing to clear my vision, but it does no good. Wherever I

am, it’s dark and cold.

I’m also starving.

My knees are shoved to my chest, and my back is up against what I can only guess is a wall. I’m in a cell.

I spend most of my time here.

I’ve been sentenced to a life in prison. One that treats the innocent like criminals.

I can hear voices—screaming—in the distance. Cries of pain and shouts of desperation.

It never ends. All hours of the day and night.

There are no clocks on the walls. Time means nothing. It’s used as torture, not a conve nience.

I hurt everywhere. There’s an ache in my chest and a throbbing in my head.

It’s the drugs. They have lasting effects. When they first hit, you’re flying, but when they wear off, you’re fuck ing as low as you can get.

I imagine it would be hard at any time, but when your body is being starved of everything it needs to survive, I think the hit is harder.

I can’t feel my arms. Last I re member, they were tied behind my back.

This is what fighting gets you. When you don’t lie down and take the abuse, they force it on you.

I hear the sound of a lock clicking, and like a dog about to be fed,

my mouth starts to water.

“Hello, dolly.” He enters.

I lower my head, trying to hide my eyes from the harsh light.

“How do you feel?” he asks. It’s the same stupid question all the time.

“Numb,” I lie. If I give him any other answer, he drugs me.

His hand touches my hair, and I yank my head away.

He grips a handful of it and drags me away from the wall. I scream out and start kicking, but my legs are tied together. He throws me

onto my back and straddles my chest.

I can’t breathe from his heavy weight.

His hand grips my cheeks, and he forces my head back. “Still being

an ungrateful bitch, I see.”

I try to scream, but nothing comes out.

“We’ve got a long life to spend with one another,” he goes on, “and I want us to both enjoy it.” When he gets up off me, I roll onto my side and suck in a ragged breath, my throat and chest burning. I bring my tied legs to my chest and spit onto the concrete floor.

“We’ll try the hard way.”

I feel the sting of some thing across the back of my legs, and I cry out. He does it again, and I try to crawl away, but he’s got me tied

to pre vent it.

Lords always win because they cheat.

So I scoot like a worm, but the room is too small. There’s nowhere for me to go. I see his belt and hear the whooshbefore it comes down across my face.

Sobbing, I curl into a ball the best I can. This is my punish ment. I tried to kill myself and failed.

He kneels next to me and pushes the hair from my face, making me scowl. “Why do you make me hurt you, dolly? Hmm? Don’t you want to be my good girl?”

Snot covers my face, and I lick the salty tears off my cracked lips.

“Y-es.”

“Show me, Eve.” He stands and undoes his jeans, followed by his zip per. “Show me how good you want to be for me, and I’ll treat you like a good girl.”