Chapter 20

TWENTY

DOHMNALL

As the first rays of dawn shine through the windows, I stumble after her, barely managing to put the whisky bottle back on the cart without dropping it.

“Hey,” I call. “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet.”

Immediately I pull my phone out of my pocket, slapping myself for some clarity amid the warmth of the alcohol. Fuck. What am I doing drinking? I know better than to get caught up in such maudlin weaknesses.

I watch the phone for any perimeter alarms. Whenever an outer house door opens or closes, I’m alerted. But to my surprise, none of them trip .

She’s staying inside the house? What the hell’s she playing at now?

My head smacks into one of the poster paper photos I got blown up and hung from the wall last night using invisible twine. Laying my trap.

My little pet has been pretending to be so obedient lately, so suddenly and out of the blue? Rookie move. I tried it with her father week one. Thinking if I just played along things would go easier and I’d figure a way out of each session he managed to corner me in.

Always, he found some way to get me into his office. Every time, I swore I wouldn’t be stupid enough to land myself back there.

But things were always so strapped with me trying to support Moira and me all on our own. With the money I was making with Mr. Harper, things were finally looking up for once in our shithole lives. I was learning things—real skills, programming shit I was never gonna have the money to pay a university degree for.

I was already in too deep by the time he started pulling the pervert shit. I’d gotten Moira and me outta the rat-infested closet we’d had to rent when we first got to Dublin and into a real apartment building. She was settled into her second semester at a private school, fitting in when that’d never happened before.

And then there was Madison.

What the fuck are you supposed to do when your girlfriend’s father reaches down, and the accidental touches you’ve been trying to justify as those of an effusive mentor suddenly take that fucked up turn?

I mean, I knew about twisted fucks that liked to diddle little kids.

But I was seventeen. A man, at least to my own mind. Almost grown.

I’d heard this happened sometimes with bosses down at the mine. Lads and I joked how we’d kick a gobshite’s teeth down his spine and out his arsehole if they ever tried it with us.

Turns out when the real thing was happening, I just shook there in feckin’ disbelief about what Mr. Harper was doing to me, not making a move and silent as a mouse.

Then he ordered me to get on the floor like a dog.

I didn’t realize it then, but it was the same voice he’d been using with me for months as he taught me code. He’d been conditioning me all along to obey him.

I didn’t really know what the fuck was happening. I just know I got on the floor like a dog.

“Madison,” I call out, my voice almost sing-song. It’s probably just the alcohol, but I feel loose now that Madison’s sins are acknowledged out in the open between us. Free. Let’s be done with all the charades.

In this, let us finally be what we never were: ourselves.

“Oh Madison,” I call again. “There’s really no use in hiding.” I lift my phone. “I have cameras on every room in this property.”

I flip through the feed of the first-floor rooms, sighing impatiently. “This is tedious, Madison. Aren’t we a little too old for hide and seek?”

I don’t see her on the first floor, so I check the hallways, the stairs, and finally, the second floor. There hasn’t been enough time to have made it to the third, yet. I’m methodical, keeping an eye on the stairwells and elevator while I check each room.

Nothing.

And still no perimeter alarms.

Then I frown, knowing it’s probably a waste of time but flicking over to the basement screen, anyway. And there she is.

What the fuck is Madison doing in the basement?

I put two fingers to the phone to zoom in further. At first, I’m immediately furious. I swear to fuck, if this is another cunting trick?—

I stomp over the back stairwell to the basement. I stab in the code to the keypad—the same one as downstairs. 2016. The year my life went all to fuck. The year I met Madison Harper.

I yank the heavy door open and take the stairs two at a time.

“What the fuck, Mads? You think you’re going to win more good girl points by hiding away down here? This is not a scene. I’m having a real conversation with you. The conversation you denied me by running off like the thief you are. It’s called being accountable for fecking once! Do ya hear me?”

She came down here. That means she knows she’s going to get the punishment of a lifetime for pulling this shit. I swear, when I get my hands on her little ass, I’m going to turn it red ?—

I shake my head. What the fuck? I literally just said this isn’t a scene. But I’m already thinking about the punishment? And only the kind of punishment that puts my mark on her ass and has her shuddering in pleasure in that ecstatic space I know she likes to go to when she starts feeling really stressed out, getting her worked up for a release?—

“Madison,” I snap when I finally step into the dungeon. She’s exactly where I saw her on camera.

Curled in the tiniest ball in the dog cage. Door shut on top.

“Madison,” I bark.

She stays where she is, curled up as tight as her body could possibly get. It’s not a generous-sized cage. It’s impressive she got all her limbs in and still managed to close the top in on herself.

Finally, she turns her head my way.

Her eyes are wide, a little spacy, and she tilts her head at me. Then her eyes shift away towards the wall.

“Oh, fuck. ”

My phone drops to the carpet as I sprint to her side and drop to my knees.

“Madison!”

Something’s wrong.

Really wrong.

Usually, I’m a good dom. Not now, fucking obviously.

Now I’m too fucked to even be called a dominant, and certainly not one allowed back in any community.

But I used to be a good dom. Good enough to recognize when something’s wrong.

And whatever’s happening right now with Madison—Brooke—is really, really wrong. The vomiting upstairs, and now the catatonic stare.

Fuck! These are signs that something’s gone really, really off.

I yank the cage lid open and delicately lift Brooke’s tiny shivering body from the cold bars.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” I whisper into her oily hair. Fuck, I haven’t been taking care of my pet. There are rules. Like safe, sane, and consensual. There are rules for a fecking reason .

“It’s gonna be okay.” I kiss her forehead.

For several minutes I just cradle her shivering body in my arms, calling her name, both Madison and Brooke, but I don’t get any response at all. Just the dead-eyed stare.

Carefully, with her still in my arms, I scoot over to where I dropped the phone .

I went too far. She needs help. Real help, and not from a power-hungry fuck bent on breaking her for revenge.

Congratulations, fuckface, you got what you wanted. You broke her. How does it feel?

My stomach twists with nausea at what I’ve become.

I let out a furious grunt when the phone beeps with a no service notification. Goddammit, I’ve got to get out of the basement if I want to make a call. There’s no way in fuck I’m leaving Brooke here, though. I shove the phone in my pocket and look down at her.

Her eyes still stare out at nothing and my heart leaps into my throat with terror. “It’s gonna be okay,” I whisper as I squeeze her closer to me and stand up. Cradling her tightly to my chest, I hurry out of the room and towards the stairs at the end of the hallway.

“You’ve been such a good, good girl.”

Her eyes suddenly flick up towards mine, the tiniest bit of recognition coming back into them.

“Such a good, good girl,” I reassure her, throat tight. “My best girl. You’ve done so, so well through some difficult testing. But now it’s time to rest.”

An anxious line enters her forehead as her eyes search my face before she nudges my chest with her nose a few times.

“Brooke?” I whisper with hope as I key in the code, pull open the door, then take the stairs up, still holding her close to my chest. “Brooke, love. You with me?”

Her stare goes a little blank .

“Pet?” I try, and her eyes snap back to me. I nod at her, holding eye contact. “You’ve done so well, we’re going to take a little rest. You’ve been such a good, good girl.”

Relief enters her face, and she curls her head against me. Fuck, maybe it’s not as bad as I think. Maybe she just needs a little time and some sleep and then she’ll come out of it.

I hit the top of the stairs and drop down on the nearby couch. Brooke has made herself into a little ball again, this time just curled up on my lap, head against my chest.

I lift my phone and hit dial on Caleb’s number.

“Jesus, do you know what time it is?” comes his groggy voice.

“Shut up, it’s an emergency.”

“What happened?” He sounds more alert.

“I need a psychiatrist. I think I broke Mad— Brooke. I might’ve broken Brooke.”

“What the fuck do you mean, you broke her?” He’s so fecking alert now he’s shouting down the phone.

“Do you know somebody or not?”

“Jesus fuck, you’re gonna get the club in so much fucking trouble?—”

“Caleb!” I yell, covering Brooke’s ears. “Focus. Brooke needs help. If I need to take her in somewhere, fine. I just know from shit with Moira that too many head-houses are pill mills that don’t know shit about actually helping someone.” No matter how much you pay. Some just have better brochures. “I need real help . Fucking now! Anyone in the club know someone , know someone?”

“We have strict fucking rules for a reason,” Caleb starts in on me, “so no one gets broken at the club. I can’t believe?—”

I squeeze Brooke closer to me, trying to warm her up with my body heat. She’s still shivering so bad. Fuck, I want to kick myself. Of course she’s not warm enough. I keep the basement a solid seventy-two degrees, but I haven’t lived down there naked. She’s probably been freezing the whole time.

“What?” I ask, ready to hear Caleb’s worst. “You can’t believe what?”

He’ll be right, whatever he says. I might be a sadist, but I’ve prided myself on sticking to the rules. I tried to tell myself that they didn’t apply to Madison but it’s wrong for anyone to treat her like this?—

I’ve become just like the monster I spent my entire life loathing. I started out thinking it was some sort of poetic justice. Because I wasn’t even smart enough to see that as a pitiful veil for the truth: I’m just another pathetic statistic, turning into my own abuser.

Caleb lets out an explosive breath. “I might know someone, actually.”

“Well give me their fucking number already!”