CHAPTER EIGHT

I traced my fingers delicately up and down her spine, feeling her heartbeat against my chest as she slept, trusting and vulnerable. Her skin was so smooth, perfect to be stroked for hours on end. Careful not to wake her, I moved some of her hair aside and checked her pulse, counting it out.

She'd need another injection soon.

Helios wasn't anything to toy with. You either got dosed consistently or you wound up like a fucking zombie—and that was if your body didn't reject the drug entirely. Sunshine would accept it, but then she'd be the equivalent of an addict, and everything that made her who she was would be gone.

I would never let that happen.

I flattened my hand against the side of her neck. It was a shade darker than her sun-kissed, warm golden tan. She stirred slightly but didn't wake. Her naked and in my arms was my favorite view. Second to how she looked every time I had my face buried between her thighs or her full, pink lips wrapped around my dick, staring up at me with submission and adoration.

I had never been one to care much for appearances; a pretty face and beating heart were all it took for a bit of temporary amusement. Most women were just fleeting diversions, a means to an end. I had dabbled in what some might call a relationship once, a brief entanglement of convenience rather than connection.

That was before I saw Sunshine.

She'd been it for me ever since she wandered onto the balcony that I'd retreated to at a country club gala we'd both attended.

She didn't immediately turn and go back inside like the four people before her had. Or light a stick of poison with the delusional belief I would allow it to be smoked in my presence. She had looked right at me and pulled the door shut before coming a little closer and asking if I was okay.

No one asked me that.

Even with the Playground still a tightly guarded secret to many, my reputation always spoke so I never had to. Sunshine wasn't oblivious to what I was, but she asked about my well-being regardless. Then she sat outside with me, neither of us saying a single thing until she stood to go back inside and thanked me for sitting with her. There wasn't a day since she didn't cross my mind.

Her and me. It was never part of the plan. One day she was simply the daughter of a man marked with death, and then without warning, she became the very epicenter of my existence.

She was an irresistible blend of innocence and allure, a living, breathing masterpiece that I couldn't get enough of. Approaching her had been a task in itself. Gracelynn Astaroth was the Infernal Syndicate's untouchable fucking Barbie. She wasn't someone to be pursued unless you had a death wish. Lucky for me I didn't have that issue.

At first, after Judicium , she kept her distance from me. There was a clear delineation between us that might as well have been carved in stone. I tore through it without hesitation or remorse, breaking down her defenses until there was nothing left but rubble and dust. I made it so she couldn't avoid me even if she tried.

I spent hours contemplating the best way to possess her entirely, infiltrating every aspect of her existence. I needed my presence to be a constant reminder of the only man she'd ever know.

Even now, something inside me screamed to flip her onto all fours and fuck her until she was nothing but a quivering mess of limbs and tears. I held back, my gaze fixed on the ceiling as I reined in my impulses. I needed her to feel every touch, every kiss, every thrust with a heightened intensity, to etch the memory of our first time together deep into her consciousness. And she deserved nothing less than my slow and deliberate pace, each movement calculated to bring her unbridled pleasure and leave a lasting imprint on her body and soul.

For years I had waited for her, not laying a finger on another woman. It would have been a betrayal to Sunshine's memory, so I avoided them. When I needed a release, I sought solace in creating yet another corpse. Death was my impartial companion, showing no mercy or preference based on gender.

It was one of the only constants in my twisted world of creation and destruction. In the Playground, I had the freedom to unleash my dark desires without consequences. Here, instead of being shunned and judged, I was praised for my ruthless brutality and twisted ability to inflict pain and torment without a second thought. They saw me as a living freak show, labeled me a fucking psycho.

I wasn't sure who I was anymore outside of this city, but I knew until our dying day I would be hers. Whether in here or out there, I would live the rest of my life playing a lead role, so she never had to suffer again, enduring all the mundane bullshit that made me want to crawl out of my skin just to see her smile.

I lifted her off of me and gently set her down on the bed, careful not to disrupt her peaceful slumber.

I pushed myself into a sitting position and rolled my shoulders as I stood up. I needed to find my brothers, but first I had to dress her. If someone were to look at her like this, they'd never see anything else again. I gathered the clothes I found, a pair of pants that were a hybrid between leggings and black jeans, guaranteed to highlight her curves in a way that would have me clinging to her like a second skin to keep others from seeing. There was a simple top with the symbol of our organization on the tag, and the standard shoes they always provided.

Her beautiful hazel eyes opened as I was putting on her bra. She glanced down at herself, then up at me. "You don't have to do that."

"I do." I didn't feel the need to explain further. Touching her now was necessary for me to handle the task of leaving her here while I went to find the others, even though they were just downstairs.

I didn't want to involve her in the tangled mess of our past any further until she had a better understanding of what occurred.

"Have you slept?"

"Later," I added her shirt.

"Later when, Ky?"

I leaned in and claimed her lips in a bruising kiss, savoring the taste of her before pulling away. She scowled at me, knowing exactly what I was trying to do. I grinned and then grabbed her underwear and pants.

She grumbled under her breath, but let me do what I needed to, understanding my actions. I made sure my fingers grazed every inch of her exposed skin before I covered it up. When I was done, I wrapped my hand around her delicate throat, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat beneath my fingertips. I pulled her mouth to mine once more, kissing her deeply.

There'd been a time when the mere thought of someone's lips on mine was repulsive. Now, I craved it. I wanted to inhale for her, become a vessel to supply every breath she needed. I reluctantly pulled away, massaging the side of her throat with my fingers before loosening my hold.

"I'll come right back to you."

Her puffy lips turned slightly down. "I'll be right here."

I turned before I gave in to the urge to make her scream my name again, quickly dressing myself. I felt her eyes on me the entire time and made sure she got a good look.

"You're such a tease," she called softly with a laugh.

I strolled to the door and pulled it open, barely blinking at Lana and Mel standing across the hall. I'd known they were there the second they'd hesitated to knock.

"Ciaran sent us," Lana explained without my asking.

"Oh, he sent us, did he?" Mel taunted playfully.

"I meant he suggested we come up here," Lana corrected, shooting the other girl a mock look of annoyance. "And we weren't creeping, we just didn't want to interrupt if you two were…busy."

"If she wasn't screaming, she was done."

"I will note that down for future reference," Mel replied. She stepped forward, tilting her head back to look up at me. "Can I get to my girl, now?"

" Mine ."

"Ours," she challenged.

I bit back a grin. "Mine. But I'll allow you to stay close."

"While you two have a pissing contest over custody, I'm going to see Grace." Lana slipped around both of us, mushing herself against the doorframe to avoid her chest brushing against me. As she entered the room, I caught a whiff of whatever she'd used to wash her hair.

Mel watched her and then stepped back with a sigh so that I could leave without touching her either. "I can't flatten myself out like that."

Because she was in pain.

"Then don't. You've already done more than needed."

I saw the realization sink in that I knew all about the deal she'd made. We all knew. All of us except the two people she wasn't going to tell.

"I'm not convinced it was enough," she said quietly, moving around me to join Sunshine and Lana.

I proceeded down the hall with that statement echoing in my head. Melantha had always been one of the harder psyches to figure out. She never gave any of the others an in.

Maverick had worked endlessly, and the most he'd gotten was a kiss. It shocked him to the point he'd been standing in the same spot it happened when Ciaran and I happened upon him at nearly four in the morning—hours after the fact. I knew of the three women, four if I counted Hayven, Melantha remembered everything that happened when they were locked away. The only reason she wouldn't speak a word all came down to the one thing that was never questionable—her loyalty.

I moved soundlessly down the stairs, skimming the digits on the timer as I followed instinct to where my brother was. I found him and the others in a game room of sorts. Ironic considering the show we were on.

"Little bro," Charon greeted me, kicked back in a recliner. If there were liquor here, he would've downed half the bottle.

"Four minutes," I stated as a reminder that was how far apart in age we were. I'd let him be born first—he needed the big brother complex. He delighted in holding the title over Kennedy.

Maverick and Dion were on opposite sides of an air hockey table, Brody standing off to the side watching them play. Ciaran was at a bar, sans alcohol, drying his wet hair with a towel, two stools between him and Carol.

"Anything?" he asked as a way of greeting.

"No more than before."

He nodded, expecting that answer. "They planted those photographs they mocked up. I thought we'd burned them all. Doesn't matter her sister and my brother were long gone by then because she doesn't know that."

A silence fell over the room, the only sound of the puck being hit back and forth before Maverick swore and stepped back.

"How the hell do we handle this? Do we just wait for this forced bout of amnesia to disappear?"

"She's the expert," Brody remarked, gesturing to Carol.

I moved further into the room and took a seat on the black loveseat adjacent to my brother. When she realized we were all waiting for her to speak, Carol took a deep breath and glanced around. "The Infernal Syndicate used a combination of electroconvulsive therapy and experimental neuropsychological techniques to alter their memories. The process was designed to disrupt their memory consolidation and recall mechanisms forcibly."

She paused, making sure everyone was listening. "Memories are complex and interconnected with our senses, emotions, and experiences. The methods they used were intended to fragment these connections, making it difficult for the brain to access them." Her expression turned thoughtful. "As their memories start to return, it might be gradual. Triggers could include familiar scents, sounds, places—anything that might reignite those neural pathways. For example, revisiting significant locations from their past, hearing a certain song, or experiencing strong emotions could bring fragments of memories back."

She looked at Ciaran. "However, it's also possible that some memories may never return, especially if the trauma was severe and the techniques used were particularly invasive. The brain sometimes permanently buries certain experiences as a protective mechanism. We have to accept that uncertainty and be prepared for it."

"So she may never know," he stated rather than asked, his expression closed off.

Carol's voice softened. "Patience is key. She might have moments of clarity and then nothing for days or weeks. It's frustrating but pushing too hard can do more harm than good."

"I have those fragments," Dion stated.

"What do you remember from that place? That day?" she asked him, but it was something we all wanted to know.

I knew from the way he subtly shifted his feet that he didn't want to answer that question. I would rephrase it. "What do you know?"

"Everyone that participated in the same judgment as us is either dead or here. The Syndicate did some fuck shit, and we've all had our minds scrambled, except Hayven. Now we're starting to remember, but that doesn't seem like a good thing, and--."

"You don't think they should remember?" Brody cut him off, surprised.

"No." Dion shook his head. "The things I remember of that place, I can barely stomach it, and I didn't have close to the experience they did. It was…"

"Torture?" Ciaran finished.

"That's a really nice way of saying it. You were there, weren't you?"

He remembered more than we thought. Interesting.

Carol cleared her throat. "You're all remembering bits and pieces it seems. How much of it is reality and not the warped version of events is yet to be seen. To be quite honest, I'm surprised at who has a near-perfect recollection of events."

We wouldn't say her name. Not when they were watching, foaming at the mouth for that same information.

"But I happened to agree with Dion. The one you're most concerned about, I'm not sure you want her to remember."

"She deserves to," Ciaran refuted without hesitation.

"Even at what it could cost you?"

"It's better the devil you know," I answered her for him.

"Two of them don't remember you being there," Maverick pointed out offhandedly.

Carol shook her head. "I was never present for the proceedings. I only made sure to do what I could afterward while you all worked on getting them out."

"You did your part. That's more than Earl can say," my brother stated dryly.

She didn't bother defending the man again. It hadn't gone particularly well for her the first and last time she had done that. When the girls were all taken, there wasn't a second wasted in figuring out how to get them back and it had come down to each of us betraying them for them to be free. Dion was the exception.

In truth, Carol wasn't here because of her brother. He'd been killed off long ago. She'd been on our side of this war ever since. She entered the Playground pretending she was playing to win his freedom. Earl was truly here to suffer at their hands, punishment for getting caught trying to make a move legally like a fucking fool.

"Is it a waiting game then?" Brody asked when the silence stretched on again.

"We can't play any more games," I answered.

"He's right," Ciaran agreed. "And we don't have time to. They put him at that park for a reason."

Dion glanced around, waiting for someone to offer clarification. It was the only piece of information he didn't have— yet . None of us were going to talk about that either.

He'd figure it out. I gave it a little longer and then he'd know exactly how significant those kids with the severed head were.

"If it makes a difference, Hayven is all in still, even as she pretends that I don't exist."

I glanced at my brother and met his gaze. He didn't try to hide the chaos that had turned on him inside his head. If I could take that from him, I would. I'd take it from all of them and add it to my own. I was adept at dealing with demons of the mind.

"How did we get here?" Brody wondered aloud.

"Well, if we had left things as they were, Charon would be married to Jessica or Selena," Maverick pointed out. "She's still to this day obsessed with him."

"Isn't that the same person?" Dion asked.

"Unfortunately," Ciaran answered.

"So that thing with her mom marrying your dad?"

"That's true," my brother confirmed. "But we don't claim that piece of shit as our father. We were raised by a much better man."

"You don't seem to claim her either. I for sure thought you had forgotten her or something."

"We could say the same for you about your girlfriend," Ciaran countered casually.

Dion's brows rose. "Why would I care about her?"

"Damn. That's cold, D," my brother quipped.

It wasn't him either. Dion was like the male version of Sunshine—too fucking good for a place like this.

"She was a plant," he said slowly, looking at each of us. "I realized that at the warehouse. I thought you knew already."

We hadn't.

As that information settled, I wondered what else we weren't aware of. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"What was it like when you remembered?" Brody asked curiously.

Dion shrugged. "Hard to explain. All those feelings I thought were mine went away. I'm not even sure if that was her real name."

It was, but that mattered even less now. "It was better for Jess not to know too many details about what we're doing. She can't be trusted. It wasn't earned," I answered his question as my sole way to make amends for degloving his not girlfriend, just in case.

"But she's not necessarily bad though right?"

"Even if she is, we aren't exactly the good guys, D," Ciaran responded with a laugh, adopting my brother's nickname for him.

Dion's eyes darted around the room. "We aren't?"

"Bro, I almost feel bad for you," Brody replied, running a hand through his curls.

"Oh, well." Dion rubbed the back of his neck. "How did Mel feel about her? I didn't want to ask because she's never mentioned her once. Is it the same kinda scenario as Lana and her siblings or did they forget about one another?"

We shared a look amongst us. How did he come to that conclusion?

"How is that related?" I questioned.

"Because Lana's brother is part of the show and so was her sister?"

"Explain it to me like I'm five," Maverick prodded.

He straightened, his eyes darting around behind his glasses and looking at each of us. Ah. He knew something else we didn't. I took a quiet breath and counted back, rolling my shoulders. I could not crack open his skull.

His death would be one Sunshine wouldn't forgive. I was fine with her hating me. I could still keep her, but I refused to let her do anything but need and love me. I would hate myself if I broke any more of her heart by killing our first dog. That's what he was—a Golden Retriever with high intelligence. I never needed to worry about her giving him affection.

Maverick and Charon looked at me questioningly. I shook my head and crossed my arms, staring Dion down. "We're waiting."

"I wasn't sure I should say it out loud," he replied defensively. "There's more than one set of sisters getting fucked over," he stated as cryptically as he could.

It was enough for us—and probably anyone watching to decode. We hadn't known. Melantha having a sister? No one knew that.

"You know," Maverick began, "that explains why her mom doesn't give a shit about her."

"Because her pops is a cheater? Isn't that half the board?"

Carol snorted, the first sound she'd made since she last spoke. "That's certainly a common theme, but certainly isn't something everyone does."

"All of our parents are solid," my brother said. "And if Dante—our dad--cheated our mom would simply watch as we buried him in the garden."

"I get it," Dion stated, keeping the conclusion he came to unspoken and off-camera.

That was an expectedly smart decision. It may have been news to all of us, but Melantha's mother being some unknown woman didn't change anything nor did her father having multiple affairs.

We had a history with these women that went beyond the quiet moments we'd shared inside this game of wit and bloodshed. It no longer mattered who they did or didn't hail from. No one on their side wanted me with Sunshine. They couldn't fathom a Vetis mixing with her unblemished bloodline. Or another Serpine spitting out half of a Belair. Decades of history would change if we created an army of them.

I wasn't sure that would come to be.

We would make it out of here and do what we had set out to. That was not a question. What our family would resemble after wasn't so clear. Things between us were no longer like they used to be. For me, it was a foreign kind of torment. Sunshine may have remembered me, but she didn't remember us .

Not fully.

I blamed myself for that in the same way Ciaran did for his own supposed failures.

Charon. Maverick. Brody.

We all had some degree of guilt we'd never sat down to face or acknowledge. Now it was too late. It was hanging over our heads like a fucking guillotine. Everyone who knew the truth understood the havoc that would come once it was brought from the dark. No one understood that better than Ciaran. Lana was a ticking time bomb and when she detonated, it wouldn't just destroy him, she'd implode and destroy herself.

One by one we'd follow.

There was nothing we could do but wait for the inevitable.