Chapter 86

EIGHTY-SIX

AMETHYST

Everything hurts. My body feels like it’s been stuffed in the washing machine and gone several rounds on the spin cycle. My aches go bone deep, and I’m sure the muscles attached to them are shredded.

The surface under my back is unforgiving and hard, with the faintest scent of bleach. I try to move, but my limbs won’t cooperate. Artificial light pulses against my eyelids, matching the throbbing of my head. Dread pushes through the haze. This is no hangover—it’s something far more terrible.

I have no idea how much time has passed since that dart hit me outside the church. It could be an hour, a day, or longer. Based on the cool air swirling over my skin, whoever took us has stripped me of what was left of my clothes. The ache from rough sex with Xero has faded, and that part of my body is still intact.

Footsteps approach, an ominous click-clack of heels that makes every fine hair stand on end.

My heart races, and a burst of adrenaline pushes through the grogginess to a state of semi-alertness. I crack open an eye to find myself on the floor of a marble-tiled bathroom.

A breath catches in the back of my throat as I dart my gaze from left to right.

There’s no sign of Xero.

The door slams open, letting in ruby-red stilettos attached to legs identical to mine. My stomach lurches and churns with a debilitating mix of nausea and dread. I don’t need to look this woman full in the face to know it’s Dolly.

Her footsteps draw closer, clicking against the marble floor, and ringing in my ears to the thunderous beat of my heart.

“Wake up, you lazy bitch.” She punctuates the order with a sharp kick to the ribs.

I can’t even flinch, even though I want to grab her ankle, pull her down to my level, and demand to know what she did to Camila and Xero. No matter how much I try, my body won’t move.

Dolly reaches down, twists her fingers into my curls, and hauls me up by the hair. Before I even process the pain ripping across my scalp, she delivers a hard slap with a sting that snaps me fully awake. Flinching, I draw back under a wave of dizziness.

The shock fades, giving way to an overwhelming despair. Once again, I’ve fallen back into Dolly’s clutches. At best, Xero is in another room, being tortured by Delta. At worst, he’s dead.

“You cowardly cunt. What the hell did you do to our investors?” she screeches.

I grind my teeth, refusing to give her the satisfaction of an answer.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” she screams, her voice echoing across the tiled walls.

Not while I’m helpless. Not while I’m still drugged. Not while she holds all the power. Whatever they put in that poisoned dart has left me unable to fight back, and I’ll be damned if I give her the satisfaction of a response.

“Get in here!”

She drags me across the cold, hard tiles to the shower cubicle, each step aggravating my aches. With a sharp twist, she turns on the taps, releasing a cascade of icy water. I gasp at the shock, my teeth chattering. My limbs tremble and convulse from the cold. I force every ounce of determination into my extremities, but they can’t escape the punishing chill.

The door creaks open again, letting in a set of male footsteps. My insides lurch, hoping to everything it’s Xero, but knowing in the pit of my stomach I’ll be disappointed.

“You called?” asks a male voice that turns my blood to ice. It’s Locke. The golden-haired pretty boy they put in charge of the drugs. He chuckles. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to give this bitch a bath, but it won’t cooperate,” Dolly says.

“Did you administer the antidote?” he asks.

Dolly releases a flirtatious giggle. “I forgot.”

“Understandable. There’s a hundred and one things to do before the auction.”

My breath stills.

Auction?

As they move further into the bathroom, their voices become muffled. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus on their conversation through the roar of running water.

From the snippets I manage to catch, it sounds like Delta is staging another drinks reception where he’s brought together a new group of investors to watch a private showing. I listen out for any mention of Xero, but all I hear is about a hot new superstar who will tear me apart for the audience, then the highest bidder will desecrate my corpse.

Dolly steps into the shower. “Give her half.”

“Are you sure?” Locke asks.

“She’ll be weak, but not so much of a dead weight,” she replies. “I’ll inject her with the rest before the bidding.”

The cold water stops, leaving me gasping. Panic roils in my gut as a needle pierces my biceps. Warmth spreads from the injection site and trickles down my forearm, infusing my limbs with the sensation of pins and needles.

Locke steps out of the shower, pausing to kiss Dolly.

“Give it a few seconds,” he murmurs against her lips.

When I try to move my fingers, they twitch. I send a similar message to my toes, which curl. As the pair continue kissing, I ball my hands into fists and try to shift my arms.

Muscles trembling, I push myself up to sit, but I’m still too weak to stand.

I slump against the cold tile, pouring every ounce of hatred into my glare. Now that I’m upright, I can get a better look at Dolly. She’s colored the blonde side of her hair dark brown and styled it into pigtails, making her look more like Mom.

Her dress is a low-cut gingham-blue pinafore, which she’s paired with white socks and red shoes. It’s a grotesque Wizard of Oz cosplay, which makes me want to vomit.

Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and my sinuses burn. Why the hell am I dwelling on her choice of attire when I’m going to die?

More importantly, what will they do to Xero?

Dolly pulls away from the kiss, smooths down Locke’s lapels, and gives him a pat on the ass. I would scream that she’s a backstabber, but he already knows—he was part of the duo who tranquilized Barrett and Seth, leaving them to be tortured and killed.

He exits the room, leaving me alone with Dolly, who kicks off her red heels and slides off her pinafore dress. She’s naked underneath, her body a map of faded scars. They might be identically shaped to the ones Delta inflicted on me, but his cuts were clean and precise enough to heal into thin lines. Dolly’s are jagged and cruel, a canvas of torture and pain that’s twisted her into a maniac.

Swallowing hard, I shrink to the edge of the shower, my insides roiling. Now that I have most of my memories, all I can think of is her being sent to Three Fates, then suffering untold torment for fourteen years. Her vitriol is misguided. We were both pawns. She needs to direct her need for vengeance where it belongs.

“Dolly,” I say, trying to stop my voice from trembling. “Did you know Charlotte is still alive?”

She picks up a bottle of shampoo. “What are you talking about?”

“The nanny you found murdered?”

“Kappa?” She enters the shower and squeezes half a bottle of shampoo over my head.

I gulp. “Yeah.”

“It was a prank, but you went psycho and smothered the baby. Then you killed Dad.”

“I didn’t?—”

“Hold still and stop talking.” Dolly sticks her hands in my hair and works the shampoo into a lather. “I can’t present you to the auction with green hair, stinking of sex and smoke.”

“I didn’t kill Heath. It was Kappa.”

“Nobody gives a fuck. Because of you, Dad didn’t pick me up from Three Fates. I stayed there, seducing and murdering assholes. Then I spent the rest of my teens getting raped and stabbed by sick perverts. All because of you.”

“That’s not how it happened. Dad?—”

Her fist lands in my face, making me reel backward from an explosion of pain.

I struggle against her brutal assault, trying to pull away, but Dolly holds me with an iron grip. As she digs her knuckles into my scalp, each twist sends searing agony down my neck. I stutter out the true version of events, my voice desperate and strained.

Water stings my nose, forcing me to gasp for breath. Shampoo soap stings my eyes, making them water. Despite the burning sensation and my frantic pleas, she turns on the spray to full blast and refuses to listen. I reach out blindly, trying to ward her off, but she’s relentless.

“You’ve had fourteen years to work out an excuse with Mom.” Dolly slams my head against the wall, delivering a burst of pain that makes me see stars. “Don’t think for a second that I’ll swallow your bullshit.”

With a final vicious tug at my hair, she slams my head against the wall. Pain explodes, sharp and blinding, and I wince. When she steps back, I collapse onto the shower floor, gasping for air while my vision blurs and my head spins. Dazed and disoriented, I shiver against the onslaught of chilling water, which mingles with my tears.

The next several minutes blend into a blur. Dolly drags me out of the shower to style my hair, drowning out my explanations with the dryer. She’s colored the left side of my hair the same shade of dark brown as hers, making us once again identical.

Nothing I tell her about Delta and Dad’s shared history with the FBI is a surprise, yet she refuses to believe we were both pawns in a sick game of vengeance.

I clench my teeth as she forces me into her gingham dress. Since reasoning has failed, maybe she’ll respond to antagonism.

“If you stabbed Dad like I did, he wouldn’t have taken you to Three Fates,” I say.

“What are you talking about?” she spits.

“You sat back, knowing where you were going, and let it happen. It’s your fault you didn’t live with Mom and me.”

I cringe as I say the words because they’re untrue. Dolly was just a child. But so was I, and I can’t allow my compassion for her to get me killed. Maybe she’s braced herself for a barrage of excuses, or maybe cruelty is the only thing she understands. Either way, I won’t allow her to feed me to those predators.

She draws back, her eyes widening. “You bitch. It’s not enough for you to have stolen my life, but now you’re blaming me for not being a murderer?”

Guilt knots in my throat and winds around my chest. I need to push forward, despite these hateful words. “Don’t you get it? Dad set us up. Mom was having an affair with her therapist, and he did all this for revenge. We were just collateral damage.”

She slaps me hard across the face, and I nearly topple off the chair. “Do you think I’m stupid?” she hisses. “I pieced together the truth years ago and married that sick old bastard to take him down from the inside.”

I stare up at her, my jaw falling slack. “You want to destroy Delta, too?”

“I brought Xero here to beat him to death,” she spits. “Don’t you know the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“What about me?” I whisper.

Crouching to my level, she grabs my chin, forcing our gazes to meet once more. The lining of my stomach trembles. This is my worst nightmare, come to life. The monster wearing my face, reaching through the glass to steal my soul.

Looking into her eyes is like confronting an infinite mirror of self-loathing, a nightmare I thought I’d never escape. The reflection stretches to eternity, dredging up memories I’d kill to forget. Years of festering resentment smolder in her glower. Until now, I didn’t truly understand the meaning of hell.

“He thinks you hurt his dowdy sister.”

The word hits like a knife to the gut. “What?”

“So, you’ll die and I’ll live happily ever after with my sexy son-in-law,” she replies with a smirk.

“No?”

“We have so much in common,” she says as if I haven’t spoken. “Both child assassins, both with vendettas against Delta. Both murdering unworthy siblings. Xero won’t notice a thing.”