32. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Hydessa

L ooking at the man bound to the wall, my brain is struggling to understand what is happening. Rye's eyes widen with recognition as he struggles against the chains binding him. I take a step toward him, but Cain's hand on my shoulder stops me.

"Why?" I ask, my voice filled with confusion. "Why is he here?"

Abel turns back to face me, the neon green of his mask glowing ominously. "Rye has been a very bad boy," he says simply, his tone almost casual.

"We thought this could be a lesson for you, darling girl, but also, think of this as an offering," Cain says.

"An offering?" I echo, still struggling to comprehend their twisted logic. "I'm not some sort of goddess."

"No, but you are our queen," Abel says with a dark chuckle. "And we will worship you as such."

Cain's grip on my shoulder tightens slightly. "Yes, an offering," he says, his voice calm and controlled. "But first, if you could ask one question of the killers you investigate, what would it be?"

I blink, thrown off by the sudden shift in conversation. My mind races, trying to think of the most crucial question amidst the chaos. "Why do they do it?" I finally ask. "What drives them to kill?"

Cain tilts his head in acknowledgement as he considers my question. "Good question," he says, his voice thoughtful. "It's a common debate, right? Nature versus nurture? Everyone wants to understand what makes a killer do what they do. Are they born with that killer instinct or was there something that made them do it, that made them snap."

He pauses, looking over at Rye. "Take Rye here. He is an example of nurture, and I'll explain that in a moment. But the three of us, what we do, who we are, that's definitely nature at work. We're born this way, it's in our DNA."

Abel laughs, a short, bitter sound that echoes off the cave walls. "We won the genetic fucking lottery," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Cain hums in agreement before continuing. "But with our current serial killer, the one killing the tourists, because they are by definition a serial killer now, their reasons could be either or both. They certainly have something evil in their genetic makeup, but there was also an event that influenced them and went a long way to explaining why they killed those tourists."

I stare at Cain, trying to grasp the full weight of his words. "And what event would that be?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"The ultimate event," Abel interjects a little too cheerfully. "Death."

I can almost hear Cain gritting his teeth from here. "Yes, death," Cain continues, his tone more measured. "Our killer had a brush with death, a near-fatal experience. It brought them face-to-face with their own mortality, and from that moment, they became obsessed with it. They want to know what others see, what they experience in that final moment."

I feel a chill run down my spine. "So, they kill to understand death," I say, more to myself than to anyone else.

"Precisely," Cain says. "Their own experience wasn't enough. They need to see it reflected in the eyes of others, to understand the fear, the realization, the acceptance."

"But how do you know all this?" I ask, still trying to piece together the enormity of the situation.

Abel steps closer, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Even the streets on this island have ears and eyes," he explains.

I frown as I realize the implications. There must be cameras in the beachfront area, watching everything and everyone. I sigh, giving them both a resigned look. "I don't suppose you might be willing to give me that footage?"

"Nope," Abel says, laughing.

Frustration wells up inside me, but I know that arguing with them won't get me anywhere. I rub my temples, already feeling a headache coming on. "Well then, if you aren't going to simply tell me who the killer is, can we get back to the man hanging from the wall of this cave?" I motion toward where Rye is still staring at us wide-eyed.

"That's right," Cain says, returning to the earlier topic. "As I was saying, Rye is an example of nurture. He also had an event that would be considered a trigger."

"Okay, I'll bite. What was his trigger?" I ask.

"Abandonment," Abel says, his tone subtly changing, almost as if he has personal experience on the subject.

I look at him curiously, noting the shift in his demeanor. "His dad died when he was younger," Cain continues, "but then his mother left the island to move south not long after he had become an adult and established his business, so he couldn't move. Which I'm sure would have been fine, until his wife left him too. That was the trigger."

I frown at Cain's words. "But there haven't been any other murders here. I checked as part of my investigation."

Abel scoffs, and Cain looks at him briefly before turning his attention back to me. "You're forgetting Rye has a particular hatred for city girls. Remember the cases you investigated that went cold, the random club overdoses?"

I had spent months investigating a string of dead women, the captain had pulled me from the case when I became too emotionally invested in trying to bring them justice. It was hard to look at the photos of women who had been raped and then injected with enough drugs to kill them without feeling a burning need to kill the person responsible.

The new lead investigator on the case had pronounced it cold when the killer stopped, but I felt that he hadn't, he just got better at covering his tracks.

My eyes nearly bug out of my head as I realize what he means. Rage fills me, almost blinding me. Without thinking, I take a few steps toward where Rye is until both Cain and Abel grab onto my arms.

"Careful," Abel says, pointing to the ground where there are valleys and wells in the sand and rocks forming pools of water. "I like you wet, but let's save that for later, okay?"

"We normally don't kill in our own backyard, but then Rye decided to turn his attention to the wrong city girl," Cain says, his tone darkening.

Abel leans closer to my ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You," he says, before turning and walking closer to Rye. I notice this time that his steps miss the wells of water with practiced ease.

"Do you use this cave often?" I ask, wondering how many times they have killed here.

"You'd be surprised at how many hidden spots there are on this island. But this one is even more special," Cain says.

"Why?" I ask curiously.

Abel, now standing near another wall, responds without turning around. "Because the tide will come soon and wash all the evidence away."

I shouldn't ask, I already know what he is about to say, but I need him to say it. Deep down, I want him to say it. "What evidence?" I finally question, my voice barely above a whisper.

"The blood, the footprints, the DNA, everything," Cain says, almost casually. "The tide rises, and with it, all traces of our activities vanish. It's nature's perfect cleanup crew."

Abel turns to face me, and the item in his hands makes my heart race, but not out of fear. "Do you believe us yet, Hydessa? We will kill anyone who thinks they can touch you. And to us, knives are for the bedroom. When getting rid of people like Rye here, we prefer to make a statement," he says as he twirls the barbed wire wrapped bat in his hands.

My lips part on a breath. Why is that the hottest, most possessive thing I've ever heard? And why is it such a fucking turn on?

Cain lets go of my arm, making his own way over to where Abel is holding a second bat also wrapped in barbed wire out to him. Taking it from his brother, he moves to where Rye is chained. He pauses for a moment, tilting his head as though he's savoring the fear radiating from him.

"I'd remove the gag, except we wouldn't want any tourist coming to find out what all the screaming is about," he says.

Abel chuckles, the sound slightly disturbed. "Damn shame."

Cain raises the weapon, adjusting his grip and preparing to swing it at Rye.

"Wait." The word escapes me before I consciously think about it. I almost take a wrong step more than once on my way across to where they are standing. When I'm close enough, Abel makes a show of kneeling before me and raising the bat to me as though presenting a sword.

"My queen," he says and I have to swallow my laughter.

I take the bat and twirl it in my hand, feeling the weight of it. Cain steps aside and suddenly I'm standing in front of Rye, wondering what I'm doing. But deep down I know, the darkness inside me knows what to do, what I want to do.

For the first time in my life, I slowly loosen the tight reigns I have on it inside my mind. I can almost feel the moment everything shifts. The lines between right and wrong are blurred, and a sense of injustice takes over. I let it flood my veins as I inhale.

Abel steps up behind me, his mask brushing against the side of my face as he whispers in my ear, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "You know you want to, little shadow. Just imagine how good it will feel, getting justice for all those women finally. Have you ever used that pretty knife of yours to cut someone open?"

My breath catches and my heart races in my chest. There is a memory that is just out of reach, but it disappears again as Abel runs a hand down the arm holding the bat. He adjusts my grip until I am ready to swing, turning my body until I'm positioned exactly how he wants me.

"It's a beautiful and deadly weapon, like the woman who wields it. I love watching how easily it slices through the layers of flesh, how quickly the blood spills from the wound." A soft caress on my cheek has me closing my eyes for a brief moment, wondering if I can actually do this.

"It's different with you though, my darling girl. I could spend hours watching how the crimson beads on your pale skin. I would happily trace the path of a single blood drop with my tongue," he continues, his voice a dark promise that has me panting in response to the imagery he's painting in my mind. I can almost imagine his tongue on me. I would gladly spill a million drops of blood if he traced every single one.

With that realization, any doubts of if I could do this or not disappears.

His hands continue to brush against me as he makes tiny adjustments to the way I'm standing, each movement has my body responding, growing hot and needy. I'm practically panting for him and I can feel how much he needs me too.

"The bat isn't as sophisticated as a knife, it's not made for pleasure. It's built for pain, for tearing flesh from the bone. There is nothing elegant about the damage you can inflict upon someone with a weapon like this. But that darkness inside you, it needs violence, it feeds on it, it needs to hurt those who hurt others. Embrace that part of yourself, Hydessa, become our dark queen."

Looking Rye in the eyes, I see the terror. But what has me tightening my grip is that I can see without a doubt he did exactly what Cain and Abel accused him of.

Without hesitancy, I swing the bat. There's no turning back now.