CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

He took me back to the house with disturbing ease, like this was the most natural thing in the world and he knew the path by heart. The gag hung loosely around my neck, sticky with sweat and dirt.

I could feel the grime clinging to me—dirt and leaves stuck to my clothing and my skin. Between my legs, the soreness and feel of his cum was a relentless reminder of everything I wanted to forget and could possibly face. When my teeth began to chatter, Wilder tightened his grip on my arm and picked up our pace.

“You’ll be warm soon.”

He led me through the enclosed porch entrance, the sound of muffled laughter and music seeping through the walls. My steps faltered as we moved deeper into the house, but instead of heading for the dining room, he steered me toward the stairs.

My lips parted in shock as I took in the destruction. The hallway looked like a war zone. Walls had holes in them, furniture overturned, and shards of glass glinting in the dim light. I stepped on something soft that snagged against my foot. I glanced down, and my stomach turned violently when I saw what it was.

Naija’s locs.

Torn out at the root, clumped together in a sickening heap.

“I’m going to throw up,” I whispered, barely getting the words out before my knees buckled.

Wilder moved fast, hauling me into the nearest bathroom and holding me over the toilet. He kept my hair out of the way as my stomach emptied itself, my sobs choking me between heaves.

When I was done, I slumped forward, unable to find the strength to do anything else.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured, pulling me back gently. He set me on the cold tile floor, his movements careful.

The music was still playing downstairs, some classic tune that didn’t match the horror that clung to every corner of this house. Laughter echoed faintly beneath it, a cruel reminder that while I was breaking apart, they were enjoying themselves.

The bathroom door clicked shut, and I looked up to find Wilder crouched in front of me. Slowly, he reached up and lifted his mask. Seeing his face, fully and clearly, made everything worse. There he was—the man I loved, the man I thought I knew, staring back at me like nothing had changed.

“How could you do this to me?” My voice broke, and fresh tears spilled over my cheeks. “How could you?”

His expression softened, but his words were anything but gentle. “I’m doing this for you. For us.”

I shook my head, disbelief and fury battling for dominance. “You killed all of my friends.”

“Those weren’t your friends, baby girl. Liza was a fake two-faced cunt, Naija was okay but weak. Daniella’s a whore, and you don’t need friends like that. Gabe and Jason were no one to you. Ryan’s not a factor.”

“And my sister?” My voice trembled, barely audible.

Wilder’s gaze didn’t falter, and that was somehow worse. His hazel eyes bore into mine, unwavering, disturbingly sincere. “You’ll always have a sister,” he said, his tone quiet but firm, as if it were a fact written in stone. “I know how much that matters to you.”

My chest tightened, my breath catching in my throat as his words sank in. What does that even mean?

My mind raced, trying to decipher his cryptic assurance, but all I found was a gaping void where logic should have been.

“As for the rest…” His supple lips curved slightly, not quite a smile but something darker. “I’m your friend, Mint. Your best fucking friend. I’m all you need.”

I stared at him, trying to reconcile the man I had fallen for with the man standing before me now. “You’re insane,” I whispered.

His head tilted, and for a moment, I thought he might actually smile. Instead, he just nodded slightly, as though agreeing with me. “I am,” he admitted, his voice soft but laced with unshakable certainty. “I’m insane about you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep us together.”

He truly believes this. The realization sent a chill down my spine. It wasn’t just some sick game to him, this was his reality, and he was dragging me into it, piece by horrifying piece.

“So what next, Wilder?” My voice was quieter now, resigned as if my own mind had already given up the fight.

“Well,” he began, his tone casual. “First, we’re going to get you cleaned up. After that, you’re going to make a choice, and that will determine what happens from there.” He paused, and that shadow of a smile flickered again. “I was thinking ice cream and corndogs later. We haven’t done that in a while.”

I blinked, completely at a loss for how to process the words that had just come out of his mouth. My thoughts were a chaotic swirl of anger, fear, and confusion. How could he act like this was just another day for us?

And yet, a small, traitorous part of me that still clung to the way he’d always made me feel safe and loved—wanted to pretend, just for a moment, that we could go back to that, to before. But there was no going back. Not after everything he’d done.

I swallowed hard. “And if I don’t make a choice?”

He smiled this time. “Then I’ll make it for you.”

He straightened and moved toward the shower.

The sound of the water rushing to life filled the room as steam began to curl around us. I stared at him, trying to read the subtle movements of his body, searching for anything human, anything familiar.

“Is Daniella alive at least?” I dared to ask.

We’d fucking left her with these animals when they told us to run.

He paused, then turned to face me. “No.”

“This is all my fault,” I repeated the words Liza had hurled at me.

They carried the weight of everything I’d been trying to hold back. I shook my head, my whole body trembling. The image of Daniella, naked, bloody, and broken, crawling across the floor, wouldn’t leave me.

This was all my fault.

I’d brought these psychopaths right to them.

“Mint,” Wilder’s voice was low, almost soothing.

I shook my head again, harder this time. “This is all my fault,” I repeated, my voice cracking under the weight of my guilt. “If I hadn’t—if I hadn’t been here—” My words caught, a sob choking the rest of the sentence out of me.

He moved before I even realized it, crouching in front of me. His gloved hands settled on my knees. “This isn’t your fault, baby.”

“It is ,” I snapped, my voice rising despite the tears choking me. “If I hadn’t come on this stupid trip—”

He cut me off, his hands moving to pull mine away from my face. “Look at me,” he demanded.

When I didn’t, he gripped my chin and forced my eyes to meet his.

“None of this is your fault. Those people made their choices, and this is the result.”

“What choices? ” I shot back. “They didn’t choose this, Wilder. Daniella didn’t choose to die crawling on the floor!”

“You’re looking at this wrong. You couldn’t have saved them. You couldn’t have stopped this. If we didn’t do this here, it would have happened at your house. The only difference would be the body count.”

He wrapped his around me and lifted me effortlessly from the floor. My body trembled against his chest, and I hated how his warmth felt steady, grounding, like a cruel contradiction to the chill seeping through my soul. His movements were methodical as he set me down on the edge of the tub and knelt in front of me.

He removed my shoes first, then his hands moved to my ruined pants. I flinched, but he was gentle, peeling them away before reaching for a knife I hadn’t even seen him retrieve.

With swift precision, he cut through the fabric of my sweatshirt, leaving me exposed entirely. His touch never wavered, it wasn’t rushed or cruel.

“You don’t have to do this too.”

His response was quiet but firm. “ I do. I will always take care of you.”

He eased me into the tub, the hot water shocking against my skin but washing away the filth that clung to me. My body stiffened as he adjusted my position, leaning back slightly before grabbing a washcloth. He started with my hair, his fingers working shampoo through it with a care that made me want to scream. This shouldn’t have felt so normal, so intimate.

Then he moved to my body, the cloth brushing against my skin in slow, deliberate strokes. When he reached my wrists, he retrieved the knife again, carefully slicing through the twine.

My skin was raw, the lacerations angry and red, but he didn’t flinch as he gently cleaned them, his hands steady as ever. How could I fight this? My sister was alive—for now. But for how long? That was the question I couldn’t stop turning over in my mind.

I knew, without having to ask, she hadn’t made it to that farm. If it even existed.

“There was never really a farm, was there?”

His fingers paused for a fraction of a second before resuming their methodical care. “Of course, there is. It belongs to the man who owned this house. He, his wife, and their daughter, Melody. She’s the same age as you.”

A chill ran down my spine, his words settling over me like a dark fog. “Owned?”

He didn’t look up, his focus remaining on my wrists as he dabbed at the tender skin. “Owned,” he confirmed.

“And they’re just… gone?”

“Two of three.” His hand moved to tilt my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “Before you can start, that had nothing to do with you.”

I wasn’t going to think about that right then. “And Cherish. Where is my sister?”

“She’s downstairs.” His tone was maddeningly matter-of-fact.

“Unharmed. Despite what you’re thinking right now, we’re not all-around terrible. Lucian meant it when he said they care about you.”

I wanted to tell him he was full of shit, but I’d seen the looks they exchanged behind their masks, the way they acted as if this nightmarish chaos was somehow normal and justified. They believed what they were saying.

I shut my eyes and forced myself to breathe calmly. My mind was at war with itself—one side begging me to give in, to just stop fighting and accept the inevitable, while the other, the voice that had carried me through every struggle in my life, screamed at me to hold on.

But what was the point when there was no clear way out? Wilder dried me off with the same meticulous care he always showed. The towel moved over my skin in slow strokes, and though his mask was back in place, I could feel the weight of his gaze, the unnerving focus of a man who thought he owned me.

When he finished, he grabbed the clothes he had already picked out from me—my clothes. A sweatshirt, leggings, and even my favorite fluffy socks. He dressed me like I was a doll, his hands careful yet unrelenting, stripping away any autonomy I had left. His touch was efficient and intimate in the worst way. Every moment of it reminded me of how powerless I was.

He retrieved a small tube of cream and gauze from beneath the sink and then knelt in front of me. “This will help,” he assured as he smoothed it over the raw lacerations on my wrists.

The coolness of the cream burned at first, but his movements were maddeningly gentle. Once he’d bandaged my wrists, he grabbed a comb and began working it through my damp hair.

“How did you even know to find us here?”

“I’ve had your house bugged for months,” he readily confessed. “I knew about this trip the moment Daniella booked it.”

A hollow laugh escaped me. I wasn’t even shocked. How could I be, after everything?

“The only thing I didn’t account for,” he continued, his tone darkening slightly, “was the men.” He set the comb down. “You let him put his lips on you, Mint.”

“It wasn’t, that didn’t mean anything,” I started, but he cut me off.

“Why did you let him do it?”

“I didn’t—he just—”

“You let him . ” His voice was low, lethal, and unrelenting. Leather-clad fingers trailed down my cheek, almost tender.

My mind zoomed back to what started all of this in the first place. “You have no right when this all began because of the way you talk to other women.”

“How can you circle back to that when this night is to prove the exact opposite?”

He took hold of my face and made me hold his masked gaze. “I’ve never cheated on you. These women you’re so fixated on?” His tone was icy now, but there was an unmistakable edge of disdain. “They were begging for me, Mint. Begging for something they thought they were getting. My brothers fucked them all at least twice before they killed them. They had no idea who was behind the mask. That’s the thrill of it.”

I didn’t think this was making it better.

“They never knew my real name,” he went on, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “They never heard the sound of my voice, never touched my body. They didn’t know how I feel.” He leaned even closer, his mask mere inches from my face. “I’m all yours. No one else gets any parts of me. No one else deserves it.”

His words were impossible to ignore, the conviction in his tone chilling.

There was no hesitation, no doubt—just raw, unfiltered obsession and the sick, treacherous part of me that loved him no matter how horrific he was.

“You don’t understand yet,” he continued, his voice dipping lower, dangerously intimate. “I wake up every morning, and my first thought is of you. I go to sleep every night wondering how I got so fucking lucky to live in your world.” He gently stroked the side of my face. “I want nothing more than to spoil you, to give you every dream you’ve ever had.”

“Stop it.” I tried to pull away, but he held me tighter.

“You’ve always wanted to travel the country, haven’t you? We’ll do that. I’ll take you to every state, and every city you’ve ever dreamed of seeing. And that farm you’ve always talked about? I’m going to make sure you get that. We’ll build a life there. A perfect life..”

Tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I was so fucking tired of crying.

“And babies,” he added. “You’ll have all my babies. I know how much you want a family of your own. Now that all the cards are on the table, we can continue building our future. Nothing’s holding us back anymore.”

His words wrapped around me like chains.

“I’m going to marry you,” he continued, “You’re going to be my Mrs. Carson.” His hand still cradled my face, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “If you take nothing else away from this, let it be that you are it for me,” he swore.

“And if I want none of that?” I dared to ask.

“Then you’ll have to tell me what you do want with the understanding whatever it may be, I’m going to be there.” His gaze, even hidden behind a mask, felt like it was burning through me.

“I will do every morally bankrupt, vile, terrible thing to keep you,” he promised, his voice unwavering. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice to make sure you’re mine, to make sure you’re safe, and to make sure you never leave me again.”

Each word was a confession, a vow, and a threat all wrapped in one. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t move as my mind screamed for me to run. Run where? I just tried that and got nowhere but fucked in the dirt.

“Now we’re going to walk out of here, and you’re going to choose how this ends.” He let go of my face and took my hand, his grip firm but not forceful, and led me out of the bathroom.

My legs felt like jelly as I descended the stairs, each step a monumental effort. The house felt heavier somehow, the air thick and oppressive like it knew something I didn’t. When we reached the dining room, my stomach lurched. The space had been rearranged.

The table was on its side, shoved carelessly against the far wall. In its place sat two chairs facing one another, bound and gagged occupants in each. Cherish and Ryan. Their knees nearly touched, their faces streaked with dried tears.

The others were all there, scattered throughout the room. Atlas leaned against the wall; arms crossed. Romeo was in the corner, his mask lifted enough for him to eat. He was spearing pieces of leftover chicken with the same knife he’d used on Daniella, chewing casually as though none of this were out of the ordinary.

KJ stood near the edge of the room, her posture relaxed, though her presence radiated an eerie sort of tension. Thorne looked between me and the scene before him, as if he were assessing every thought I might have. Lucian stood in the center of the room, turning to face me as soon as I entered.

“Looking much better, Tums,” he said smoothly, his tone kind.

It only made the situation feel more surreal. My eyes were solely on my sister. I could see her chest heaving beneath the bindings. Her muffled screams broke something inside me.

“What is this?” I managed to croak.

KJ moved suddenly, skipping forward with a theatrical flourish. “Will you be the lamb at the altar,” she asked, her tone singsong, “or the hand that wields the blade?”

“What?” The word left my mouth before I could process her question. “What does that mean?”

KJ laughed, spinning away like the deranged psycho she had proven to be. “Choices, choices!” she trilled, leaving me even more unsettled.

Wilder stepped in closer, his voice measured as he addressed me.

“You have a choice.” He gestured toward the chairs. “Ryan or your sister.”

“That’s not a choice,” I stated evenly. “Cherish is the only option.”

“Ouch , ” Hunter deadpanned.

Thorne laughed. “We love a decisive woman.”

KJ moved faster than I could process, her movements a blur of sharp, practiced precision.

“Cherish!” I screamed, my voice ripping through the air, but it was already too late. The blade flashed, cold and merciless, and then there was blood—so much blood. It sprayed across the floor and onto Ryan, glistening dark and cruel under the low light, soaking into Cherish’s clothes, her lifeless body slumping forward like a marionette with its strings cut.

“No! No!” My legs buckled beneath me, but fury surged through the collapse, a tidal wave of rage and despair that demanded release.

Wilder’s grip tightened holding me back. My chest heaved, my lungs burning as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. My sister—my sister —was gone.

“Easy,” he soothed. It was wrong—so wrong. His tone, his composure, his very presence, everything about it mocked the gaping wound he’d just created in my chest.

My sister was gone. Gone? How was this real? How could he stand there and act like this wasn’t the end of everything?

“Mint,” he repeated, his voice carrying an unbearable mix of warning and tenderness. “Stop, baby. You’ll make yourself sick like this.”

I twisted harder, my nails clawing at the gloves that pinned me. With every ounce of rage and grief in my body, I threw myself into him, causing his back to hit the wall. The impact made him grunt, and for one fleeting second, I thought I’d won.

His grip faltered just enough for me to get halfway free, but then his arms were around me again, crushing me against his chest with relentless strength. “That’s enough,” he said, his voice cold now.

“Cherish didn’t see the bigger picture. She didn’t approve of your relationship. She was never going to fit in with us,” Lucian explained calmly.

“You’re fucking insane,” I snarled. “All of you are!”

“She’s not wrong,” Romeo sang around a bite of chicken. “We still love ya though.”

The fight drained out of me as sobs wracked my body. Ryan thrashed in his chair, his muffled screams piercing through the silence of the room. His face was red, veins bulging as he fought against his bindings.

“Shut him up,” Atlas grumbled, his voice dispassionate as he passed a liquor bottle to Thorne.

Lucian’s imposing frame cut through the room as if he commanded the very air around him. He gripped Ryan’s jaw and with a sudden, fluid motion, he snapped his neck. The sound was sharp. Ryan’s body slouched, his head hanging at an unnatural angle.

Lucian shoved the chair backward, sending his lifeless form crashing to the floor. He turned to face me then. “You’re family now. That’s not something we take lightly."

My chest heaved as the room spun around me, the blood pounding in my ears. All I smelled was death. I was the only one left. I’d brought a nightmare to our door and was the only one that survived it. How was that fair?

Wilder lifted me into his arms like I was weightless. I didn’t fight him. My body felt foreign, disconnected, as though I were trapped inside my own skin and seeing this through the eyes of someone else.

The others watched us, their masks concealing their expressions, but their loyalty to each other was clear.

They fell into step behind Wilder as we left the house, its door yawning open like a final, silent scream. They didn’t bother to close it, didn’t care about what might come next when someone stumbled upon the horrors within. For them, this was the end of one chapter and the seamless beginning of another.

I stared blankly as I was carried down the long driveway, the gravel crunching under their shoes. At the end, two vehicles waited: a pickup truck and an SUV. The headlights cut through the oppressive darkness, their engines idling.

Wilder carried me to the SUV and carefully placed me in the back seat, his movements gentle. The driver’s door opened, and Hunter climbed in, his expression unreadable beneath his mask.

Atlas followed, slipping into the passenger seat, Daniella’s severed head balanced carefully in his lap. The rear door opened again, and something warm and furry jostled me.

“Moose,” I whispered, my voice trembling. I pulled him close as he nuzzled into me. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I buried my face in his fur. Wilder slid in beside me and rested a hand on my thigh.

The SUV started moving, the pickup following right behind it.

I didn’t ask where we were going.

I didn’t have it in me to fight, to scream anymore, or to plead. My life as I knew it was over. My grip tightened on Moose as the night swallowed us whole.