8. EIGHT

EIGHT

" W hat'd you think?" Bone Saw asks. It's hours later when we're finally back in the car, leaving the complex.

"I didn't like it," I tell him, pulling off my mask.

"What specifically didn't you like?"

"I liked it when you slit that man's throat—he deserved it. And I liked the blood. But I didn't like what happened to the girls; I know I wouldn't like however they ended up there, and I didn't like putting them in barrels after they were drained. I don't want to play this game again."

"Well, that's too bad. I told you—I need you to play it one more time."

"What do you mean?"

"What'd you call them? The girl with the cake and her sugar daddy?"

"I don't feel like it," I say. "I don't just walk around killing people. I'm not…"

"Not what?"

Not a murderer? Not a serial killer? Not a bad person?

That ship has sailed.

"I'm not like you."

"The stakes are high for you," he says.

"Why? Are you going to kill me?"

"No," he says. He pulls his phone from his pocket and punches at the screen.

"Hasn't anyone ever warned you about the dangers of texting and driving?" I ask. "You're going over one hundred miles per hour."

"Shut up, Teagan," he says, his tone harsher than usual. When he passes me the phone, River and Hazel are on the screen, cuddled up under a blanket on that same sofa I sat on days ago, a bowl of popcorn between them.

"What is this?" I ask.

"You say you're still human, Teagan. That means you can be controlled. We know about their plan to leave; they're going in two days. If you do what I tell you to do, we'll let them go. We don't need them. If you don't, I'll make you watch me put them in a barrel."

Tears well in my eyes as I watch them together. Together …and loved. They look happy, unlike me.

I guess I made the right decision by leaving them alone. I was always going to get them killed.

I watch for a few seconds more, and when I can't take it anymore, I set the phone down, curl my knees into my body, and lean against the window.

Bone Saw turns down the old road I know will lead to that compound he took me to last weekend.

"I don't like this house," I tell him. "I want to go home."

"Too bad."

"Why do you need my help?" I ask. "I mean…look at me and look at you."

"Warren is a paranoid fucker, and for good reason. We don't think we have a lot of time, and they won't see you coming."

"Why not just kill him tonight then?"

"Outside of his home, he's started wearing a heart monitor that would ping his location to associates if it stopped, as well as send the contents of his hard drive to the FBI."

"Do I have to kill the girl, too?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Why?" I ask as he pulls into the garage.

"You don't get to ask why," he says, climbing out of the car. "But if it makes you feel better, she's a lure."

"A lure for what?"

"Lost girls like you. Younger, usually. Girls like the ones you saw dead tonight."

"I need a drink," I say as I follow him up the staircase. "Surely, you have alcohol in your shitty hideout. I need a knife, too."

"There's some vodka in the freezer," he says. "And why do you need a knife?"

"So I can free my fucking tits," I tell him. I shrug off the hoodie, leaving me in the black turtle neck. "I told you this shit hurts."

"Turn around," he says when we step through the door.

He lifts the back of my shirt and slices the binding down the center of my back.

"Ow. You cut me, you dick."

"You'll live," he says.

But fuck—I can breathe again.

I pull off the rest of the binding, letting it fall to the floor, then open the freezer and dig the vodka out of the ice dispenser. I hoist myself onto the counter, pop the top, and take a swig. Bone Saw makes his way to the back wall and begins thumbing through a collection of records. I wonder if they're actually his in this place that isn't a home.

"It has a label. Nothing else in this place has a label."

"Nope," he says.

"This is the good kind," I tell him, taking another shot from the bottle. "I don't know if you're aware of things like that, but it is. This is the kind Luca fed to me the first time we met."

"He fed it to you?"

"Mmhmm," I say, hitting the bottle hard this time. "He fed me, he clothed me. He told me to open my mouth and called me a good girl. He kept the bottle from that night, too, with my lipstick stain on the rim. He was so good to me…in his own way, which was the right way for me."

"You think I want to hear this shit?" he asks. He stops in front of a record player on the other side of the room, changes out the record, and pushes play. Classical music fills the space again.

"I don't think you really care what I say either way, Bone Saw, so I might as well say whatever I want." I take another pull from the bottle. "Declan liked listening to my voice. I miss his voice, too. He…he wouldn't have wanted this for me."

"He was a part of this," he says. He drops down onto the dark grey leather couch and props his feet on the coffee table.

"No. He thought that life and death were equally beautiful, but there was nothing beautiful about the lives or deaths I saw tonight. Declan wouldn't want to be a part of that. And he wanted me to be…soft and sweet," I say sadly. "I was…for him."

"I've watched both De Rossis stab girls on tables just like that. And Declan left you," Bone Saw says. "Shut the door…hurry! That's what he said when he climbed onto the plane."

It hits me like a punch to the gut. Tears well in my eyes again.

"I hate you," I say through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, well, I'm all you've got now," he says. "I'm the only one who's here, taking care of you."

"You think you're taking care of me?"

"I've clothed you…twice. I fed you…kiwi and now vodka. I saved your ass in that alley, and I'm currently sheltering you. So, I don't want to hear shit about Declan and Luca. And you should be a little more grateful."

It takes everything in me not to throw the bottle of vodka across the room. Seething, I hop down from the counter with a death grip around the bottle's neck, find my footing on wobbly legs, and cross the kitchen to the dark living room where I sit on the coffee table facing Bone Saw.

"Are your eyes open or closed?" I ask.

"They're open."

"Do you ever take it off?"

"Anyone who knows me as this has not seen me as anything else. And they won't."

"Are you beautiful?" I ask. "Dec—"

"I swear to fuck, if you're about to say Declan's name again I'll—"

"Well, are you? Beautiful?"

"Beauty is subjective."

"Do you have scars?"

"I have a lot of them, but not on my face."

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" I ask.

"You know you're beautiful, Teagan."

"But beauty is subjective," I repeat.

"What's your point?"

"I don't know if you think I'm beautiful."

"Yeah, Teagan. I think you're really fucking beautiful."

I climb into his lap, straddling his waist, and he slides his hands over my thighs. "You want me to be more grateful?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're already clothed. Maybe I can feed you."

I bring the vodka bottle to the creepy smile on the front of the gold mask and pour, letting it run down the front of his body. He quickly shoves me off of his lap and onto the floor, and I fall hard on my ass, laughing.

"What the fuck?!"

"Oh wait, you don't have a fucking mouth— I forgot."

"God damn it, Teagan!" he shouts, pacing back and forth in front of the room. "I should choke the fucking life out of you! What is wrong with you?"

"I don't know," I tell him. "Declan said there was noth—"

"What the fuck did I tell you?!" he screams. "Stop fucking saying his name!"

"I can't!" I cry. "I would if I could, but I can't! I'm fucking traumatized! And I'm mad at you for…"

For hurting me, and for not at least having skin I can touch or lips I can kiss. I can't say any of that because it won't matter, so I don't.

He sighs, then walks over and sits down beside me on the floor. "I'm sorry that this is your life now but…it is. And tomorrow won't be that bad. They're bad people, Teagan. And they won't see you coming—just like those guys in the alley. That's your superpower."

He reaches for me and runs his fingers over my cheek, but it's just a glove, and it makes me feel worse.

"We're bad people, too."

"We're all just animals," he says. "And I like it when you show your teeth. It's when you're the most yourself; it's when you're the most beautiful."

I lean into his shoulder, burying my head in his neck. "That's not when I'm the most myself, though. We're the rawest versions of ourselves when we're vulnerable, and I'm almost never that—not out loud anyway. And look what I have to show for the one and only time I felt safe enough to be that person."

I sigh, breathing deeply when I do. He smells good in this tiny space right here; he's wearing cologne. He must care about being a person to some extent if he put forth the effort to do that. I inhale again, nuzzling my face further into his neck. My nose pushes past the base of the mask, and I feel it—bare skin against my nose and my top lip. I part my lips and press them against his throat, kissing him, tasting salty sweat on my tongue. I run it over the small space and feel his pulse racing against my lips. His breath catches, and a hand closes tightly around my arm.

"Teagan, stop."

"I can't," I whisper. "You'll have to make me." I pause, kissing him, sucking the skin into my mouth. "I need things—I told you that." I move the hand resting on his chest upward, over his shoulder, then over his neck and into the hood, and I thread my fingers into soft, thick hair, maybe a couple of inches in length. "It's not a big deal. I like the way you taste and feel. I bet you'd like the way I taste, too."

"Teagan…" he growls, squeezing my arm harder. His other arm tightens around my waist and I brace myself, certain he's about to throw me onto the ground, but he doesn't. He pulls me into his lap, gripping my ass with both hands and grinding his erection into me while I lick and suck that space on his neck. I rock my hips, rolling my pussy over his hardness while gripping his hair in my fist, and bury a moan against his skin. He groans and his hands move to my shoulders, pushing me back.

The room is dark, but I can still see his dark eyes looking back through the holes of the mask and into my own. I lean in, resting my head against what would be his forehead if he weren't wearing it. "Don't hurt me," I say, looking deep into his eyes. "Don't be mad at me—I didn't do anything wrong." I wait for just a second, but he doesn't react. He says nothing, unmoving, and doesn't break eye contact.

I wrap my hands around the back of his head, and say softly, "I'll take what I want just because I can if you'll let me. It's poetry. This is me when I'm the most myself. Do you hate it?"

He's silent, staring for a moment more before breaking eye contact. A hand tightens around my throat.

"Don't!" I hiss through clenched teeth. "Don't hurt me. You're all I've got."

He pushes me off of him and stands, leaving me on the floor again.

"Crawl," he growls.

"What?"

He raises his foot and kicks me in the shoulder, knocking me flat onto the ground. "Get on all fours and crawl to the fucking bedroom."

"Stop fucking hurting me!"

Bone Saw takes out his knife. "Do it now, or I slice your boyfriends' initials off your chest."

I push up onto my hands and knees and do what he says, my cheeks burning red as I crawl to the bedroom. He follows closely behind me and when I cross the threshold, I hear him unbuckling his belt.

"Take off your clothes," he says. When I start to get up from the floor, he stops me. "I didn't say stand up, did I?"

I don't answer, reaching for the hemline of my shirt.

"That wasn't rhetorical, Teagan," he growls.

"No," I answer. "You didn't say stand up. Sorry."

"Master," he says, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his dick out.

"Sorry, Master."

On the floor beside the bed, I strip down to nothing, then crawl to where he stands watching me, stroking his hard dick in his hand.

"Is this what you want?" I ask.

I take over, pumping him from base to tip. He says nothing as I expect him to, and I stay there, stroking him, the head of his cock centimeters away from my lips until precum leaks from the tip. I lick it clean, running my tongue over the head, sucking and teasing him while I work him with my hand. I feel his hand in my hair and he thrusts past my lips until the head hits the back of my throat. Eyes watering, I adjust and then begin to suck, bobbing my head on his cock, licking the length of him until it hits that spot at the back of my throat. Then, I reach inside his pants, cupping his balls with my other hand.

"Harder," he groans.

I squeeze my legs together as I tighten my grip on his balls, massaging and squeezing them with one hand while his cock jumps in my other hand and mouth. Bone Saw growls, grinding into my face, and I moan around his dick. He's going to come, and I want it—every last drop of it in my mouth. I look up at him with watery eyes, hollowing my cheeks around him while working him faster.

"Fuck, Teagan," he rasps. "This is where you belong—on your fucking knees, beneath me." He grips each side of my head with his hands and pumps into my mouth while I choke, the inside of my thighs now soaked. "My very own little monster, my personal fucking whore."

I swallow around him as hot cum coats the back of my throat. And when he pulls his dick from my lips and takes a step back, I'm sure he's going to leave me here like this—wet and unsatisfied, humiliated.

"Stay," he orders like I'm an animal. My cheeks burn red again. But we're all just animals, right? That's what he said. And Luca always said I was a good girl.

He picks up his belt from the floor, and then slowly walks around me, stopping behind me. I brace myself for what I think will be an impact, but instead, he pulls my hands behind my back and wraps them in the belt, tightening it until it hurts. Then, I'm plunged further into darkness when he pulls something down over my head.

With a tight grip on my arm, he hauls me to my feet and pushes me onto my back on the bed.

"Ahh!" I cry out as the belt buckle grates painfully against my spine. I shift my weight, trying to get it in a more comfortable position, but there isn't one.

"Don't…move," he growls.

"Okay…"

I stay still, breath heaving, barely feeling the bed shift around me. The room is quiet enough for me to hear the classical music still playing in the main living space. I focus on that sound, and I'm not sure how many minutes pass, but I begin wondering if I'm alone in the room before I feel it.

Hands—actually hands, not gloves—against the inside of my knees. I moan as they run up the inside of my thighs to my center, spreading me wide, before dipping two fingers inside my soaked pussy. He moves them in and out of me, slowly, deeply, and I relax against it, goosebumps running up my spine as I give in to the pleasure he's giving me.

And then he takes it away, and I wait, listening, and I swear what I think I hear is…sucking.

"You were right, little monster," he says, his voice raspy and barely above a whisper. "I do like the way you taste."

And then his tongue is on me, running up and down my slit, rolling over my clit, dipping inside my pussy. I practically scream on contact, my hips lifting off the bed as I buck against his mouth.

"Oh, god," I moan. "Don't…don't stop. It feels so fucking good."

His hands roam up my thighs, then over my stomach until they reach my breasts, and his thumbs roll over my hard nipples while he devours me, flicking my clit with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.

"Oh, fuck!" I cry out, squirming against him. "Please!"

His hands move back to the inside of my thighs, holding me open while pinning my hips down against the mattress, increasing the pressure and speed of that tongue on my clit until I explode. My heels dig into the mattress as I writhe against him and the spasms wrack my body.

"Oh my god," I whimper. "Oh my…fuck…"

He licks me through every bit of it until my legs stop shaking.

I feel his weight shifting, his arms on either side of me, as he moves up the bed and over my body, slipping his cock inside me, burying himself to the hilt, and holding it there.

He leans in next to my ear, and I feel his face, his lips, through the soft, thin material covering my head. "You squeeze me so perfectly," he says. He rocks his hips side-to-side, trying to get further inside of me before he finally pulls back out and begins thrusting.

Bone Saw lifts the hood slightly, just above my mouth and then his mouth covers mine. I feel stubble against my face and full lips before his tongue thrusts into my mouth, and I taste myself on him. I want to put my hands on him, but I can't, so I take as much as I can, breathing him in, my teeth grazing his lips as my tongue twists with his own. It's only seconds before he pulls away and pulls the hood down.

"I do have a mouth, Teagan," he says.

He braces himself again, then grabs my legs, letting his hands slide down to my ankles. He holds them out to the side and pumps into me again, hard and fast.

"Oh, god!"

"Master," he corrects me.

"Master," I moan, letting my head fall back, ignoring the way my bound hands dig into my back.

"Do you agree with me now, Teagan?" Bone Saw rasps, fucking into me hard and fast. "That you belong beneath me, serving me?"

"Yes," I whimper.

And I do. For now, I do. The only time I haven't felt lost—the only time I've felt alive in the past three months has been when I was killing or fucking, and I've only done both with him. Everything has been beige without Declan and Luca. But with him, it's red. And I like red.

Maybe this is where I belong. The tension building again at my core seems to think so.

"I'm…oh, fuck…"

"Are you going to come again, little monster?" he groans. "Your tits look so good like this—bouncing while I fuck your pussy raw. Fuck…"

I cry out as I come around his dick, feeling him stiffen as I do. He groans loudly as he finishes deep inside me, his fingers digging into my ass hard enough that they'll leave marks as he tries to work every centimeter of his massive cock inside my pussy while he comes.

"There you go, you little slut," he groans. "You're all full of cum now. Is that what it takes to get you to keep your mouth shut and obey?"

"Probably."

A hand closes around my throat, shutting me up, and he writhes on top of me for a few seconds more before he's empty.

And when he pulls out, I feel the bed shifting under me and then hear his feet on the concrete floors.

"Bone Saw?" I roll onto my side. "Don't leave me like this."

When he doesn't reply, I panic. He's still in the room, though. I can feel his eyes on me; I can hear his heavy breathing near the foot of the bed.

The mattress sinks down at my backside again, and I exhale relief when he unwraps my wrists and pulls the hood from over my head.

It was a pillowcase. He sets it on the bed beside me. When I turn onto my back, stretching my arms out in front of me and rolling my aching wrists, his costume is fully intact down to the gloves and shoes.

There's no normal guy disguise here. There's only the monster.

"I'll stay with you until you fall asleep," Bone Saw says, running his fingers through my hair, "so you don't feel like you have to go sleep on the bathroom floor again."

"Okay," I say, pulling the covers over my body. I face away from him with my back to his chest, and he throws an arm around my waist.

"But I'm not your boyfriend, Teagan," he adds. "I don't love you."

"I'm not stupid. I know that," I tell him, blinking back tears. I know what love feels like, and it's not this. "I don't love you, either. That doesn't mean you have to say it out loud."