Chapter Fourteen

Ty

I sit in the passenger seat beside Kitten, watching the way her fingers tighten on the steering wheel, the grip white-knuckled, as if trying to keep a hold of herself. I know she’s nervous, I can feel the fucking tension in her body from here. Every time she shifts in her seat, it’s like she’s trying to run from something, but she can’t. Not from me. Not from this.

I wasn’t going to bring her here, at least not yet, but there’s only so much you can hide when the truth is gnawing at your insides like a fucking disease. If she’s ever going to understand, it’ll be now.

I thought I’d have to drag her into my hell, break her down bit by bit until she had no choice but to see me for what I am. I thought she’d hate me—fear me. But tonight, when she asked me to tell her, when she begged me to explain... something in me snapped.

She wants to understand. She cares about me.

I may not be capable of much in the feelings department, but I fucking felt that.

Nobody has ever given a shit about me. Not in the way she begged in that moment. No one’s ever seen me—really seen me. When I was a kid, I was alone. When I lost my sister, I was alone. When I killed my parents, I was alone. When I was in Sacred Heights, I was alone. No one fucking cared or saw me. But Raven... Raven sees me, or at least, she wants to see me, even if she’s terrified of what she might find.

And now I’m taking her to one part of the puzzle. The truth, the reason I’m broken beyond saving. The truth I’ve lived with for over twenty years. She’s so fucking close to understanding, I can taste it. And yet, I’m fucking terrified. Terrified that when she sees the truth—the ugly, ugly truth—she’ll run.

But I won’t let her. I can’t. Even if it tears me apart, even if she’s disgusted by me. I can’t let her go.

She doesn’t know how shattered I really am. How much of me is nothing but pieces of a kid who never had a fucking chance. The broken little boy who killed to escape his cage . I don’t even know where the line between who I am now and who I was starts and ends.

I’m sat here fighting the urge to give in to the feeling in my chest—the one that says just let her in. Don’t do it this way.

But what happened to me and my sister is nothing I could ever just spill from my lips. I wouldn’t even know where to fucking start. The words don’t exist for the kind of horror we lived through, the kind of evil that shaped me. And even if I could string them together, it wouldn’t be enough—not for her, not for anyone.

I believe you have to see it, you have to feel it, deep in your fucking bones, until it digs in and tears at every thread of your humanity. Only then can you even begin to understand. It’ll change everything you think you know about this cruel, rotting world forever.

“Pull up here, Kitten. Cut the engine,” I order calmly, my eyes scanning the dark woodland surrounding us.

She does as I say, and the world falls silent, the hum of the engine disappearing into nothingness. The moonlight filters through the dense tree’s above, casting a fractured light over her face. I glance at her; her glassy eyes dart everywhere, searching for answers she won’t find. Not yet.

Leaning over, I reach up, grabbing her hood and slipping it over her head, the shadow swallowing her expression. Her wide eyes flick to mine, uncertainty swimming in their depths.

“You ready?” I ask quietly.

She gulps hard, hesitation sweeping across her face, but then she nods.

I don’t give her time to second-guess. I open my door, stepping out into the cool night air. It’s sharp, biting, the kind of chill that freezes your veins. After shutting my door as quietly as I can, I round the car to her side and unclasp her handcuff.

The metal drops away from her wrist with a faint clink, and I notice the way she instinctively rubs her skin. She looks up at me, confusion etched into her features, probably wondering why I’m not keeping her locked to me.

Sliding my hand into hers, I feel her fingers tremble slightly before they tighten around mine. She steps out, and I take a moment to adjust my ski mask over my face, tugging my hood further down.

“Listen to me very carefully, beautiful girl,” I murmur as my eyes lock on hers. “Not a sound. No matter what you see.”

I see it, the reluctance contorting in her features, but after a moment she gives another small, reluctant nod. I take a deep inhale, gesturing toward the woods with a tilt of my head.

Keeping her hand locked tightly in mine, I lead her into the darkness. The woods seem to grow colder with every step, the towering trees arching over us and the bark turns pale, almost ghostly.

Then I see it. The faint glow of light breaking through the trees ahead. My hold on her hand squeezes, and I feel her respond, her fingers clutching mine harder, instinctively.

I stop us a good distance away, pulling her behind a wide, ancient trunk. Her back presses against me, my arm wrapping securely over her waist to keep her steady and close to me. We peek out together, the cold wood of the tree biting into my cheek as I scan the scene ahead.

The air in the clearing reeks and it jogs memories I’ve tried to suppress. It’s a smell I’ve known before, one that tells me I’m standing in a place where something horrific has happened—and where something worse is about to.

The red glow from the torch's dances on the pointed stone altar in the center, the shadows twisting around it like they’re alive. The altar is old—ancient, maybe—with dark stains marking its surface. Blood . I’ve seen enough to know it’s fucking blood. That means I’m late. My jaw clenches as I take everything in, a sick rage brewing in my chest, my palms sweating.

Around the altar, a group of figures stand in a wide circle, all wearing black robes that blend with the darkness of the trees. Their faces are hidden beneath their hoods as always and their movements synchronize, the performance done thousands of times before this. One of them steps forward, raising a rod with a carved, twisted end that glints in the firelight. It catches my attention immediately. Symbols I don’t understand, yet instinctively hate, snake up the length of it.

Low chanting fills the air, a gruff, unsettling hum that starts to pull at my sanity. It’s rhythmic, growing louder with every passing second, until it’s all I can fucking hear. I can feel its intent—dark, hungry, cruel. Flash backs dash through my mind and I shut my eyes, attempting to block them out. My own ritual and what happened after. I drop my head, placing my forehead on Kitten’s hair, taking a deep inhale, her sweetness flooding my dark senses and temporarily clearing my mind.

I lift my head, and glance down at Raven, her face pale under her hood, but she doesn’t make a sound. I see the look in her eyes, wide and shimmering in the torchlight, I see the fear. The confusion.

She doesn’t know what this is yet. Not really. But I do.

This isn’t just a ritual. This is the lead-up. The preparation. These cunt’s are getting ready for someone and they’re building into something more than a ritual. Maybe a sacrifice.

“What is this, Ty?” she whispers so I can only hear.

I dip my head, my chin resting on her shoulder and I feel her trembling arms tighten around mine

“This is the world through my eyes,” I murmur. “The part of the world no one talks about. The part people pretend doesn’t exist.”

As if on cue, the first of them emerge from the tree line—children. Their small bodies are dragged into place, lined up against the shadowed woods. I hear Raven’s breath hitch in her throat. My stomach twists as I watch their wide, trusting eyes, their faces untouched by anything except innocence. The moment crashes down on me, but I shove my emotions into the dark corners of my mind. This isn’t about me. It’s about her. It’s about showing her—this is who the fuck I am. This is why I did what I did. Why I’ll continue doing it until I’ve gotten what I want.

A tiny figure, barely more than a toddler, is yanked forward by a hooded figure. His cries tear through the woods as he’s dragged, his parents trailing just behind him, dressed in their pristine suits. Their faces are cold, emotionless, as if nothing out of place is happening. But the boy, with his chubby hands reaching for them, his voice a desperate whimper, calls out,

“Mommy!” The cry echoes, piercing the night, and Raven wheezes. I feel her body stiffen, and my chest clenches as her sob rises, threatening to break free.

She takes a step forward, her instincts kicking in, her body already wanting to help, to save him. But I can’t let her. I can’t let her interfere with this, not yet. Not until she’s seen the full truth. My hand shoots up, pressing gently but firmly over her mouth, and I pull her back into me, feeling her soft breath against my palm as she struggles to hold it in.

“Shhh…” I hush against her ear. I feel her body trembling in my arms, her tears slipping down my fingers as they fall from her eyes. I can’t even bring myself to look at her—at how broken she’s already becoming, how she’s slipping away from her innocence with every second that passes.

The boy is laid onto the altar, his limbs shaking, but the parents just stand there. Silent. Watching. The hooded figures circle around him, their chants rising like a frustrating wave.

Raven pulls my hand down from her mouth. “Please, Ty,” she whispers, almost pleading. “Tell me what I’m about to see before I see it.”

“It’s a ritual,” I say, trailing off, the reality of it all settling deep in my chest. It’s not just a ritual, though. It’s the beginning of something far worse.

“But his parents… they’re just… letting it happen?” She hisses, the horror and anger creeping into her gaze. “They’re just watching.”

She spins in my arms, her eyes wide, frantic, searching mine for the truth she’s not sure she wants to hear. “Are they going to kill him?”

I glance over at the ritual before my eyes flitting back to hers and I respond. “I don’t know. They’re all different. Some are just rituals. Some are sacrifices. Some are… lessons.”

“Lessons?” She repeats, her brows knitting together in confusion. She’s trying to piece it together, but it’s so much, too much and I can’t bring myself to shield her from the truth any longer.

I swallow hard, keeping my voice as steady as I can. “They’re abused, Kitten,” I whisper. “It could be a beating, or it could be rape.”

Her eyes widen, and I see the tears spill freely from her eyes now, her face twisting in a mixture of horror, confusion, and something like guilt. I can feel her breaking; her innocent mind cracked by a world she never asked to be part of.

“This is what happens when power and corruption collide, beautiful girl. They don’t just destroy bodies—they destroy souls. Innocent souls.”

She shakes her head frantically, her hands taking my hoodie, pulling me down closer to her. The sound of the little boy’s cries rips through the air, growing louder, more desperate with each passing second. Raven’s body trembles, and I can feel the heat of her tears burning into my skin as she presses her face into mine, pleading with me.

“You have to stop this. Why aren’t you doing anything?”

Her words are like a physical blow. They hit me so hard I feel them deep in my chest, striking at the very core of me. I want to stop this. I want to reach out, to rip this world apart, to take that boy in my arms and run—get him as far away from here as I fucking can. But I know I can’t. I know that if I even tried, it wouldn’t change a damn thing.

I shake my head once and press my forehead against hers, closing my teary eyes, her question burning in ways I can’t even explain.

“I’m one man against a world I can’t destroy on my own, Raven.” I feel my throat tighten as I speak the fact I’ve known for so long. “This isn’t my calling. This kid... he’s not for me to save.”

I want to take it back. I want to take those words and swallow them before they can poison the fucking air between us, but I can’t. It’s the truth. A bitter truth that’s been haunting me for years. I’ve spent so much time trying to figure out how to take down this whole damn system, and it’s always been out of my reach. I’ve had to accept that, painful as it is. I need to stick to my plan and my plan only or I’d be doing this for the rest of my miserable life and the end result will still be this. Nothing will change.

I feel her confusion, her doubt, her frustration—everything that still has hope in her, clashing with the darkness in me.

“What about the police? Anything? Someone has to be able to stop this…”

“This…” I gesture toward the ritual, my whisper thick with everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve been a part of. “This is what untouchable looks like, kitten. No official will touch this. Not even the law.”

Her eyes widening as the realization hits her, like a cold slap to the face. Her whole body stiffens, and for a second, I can feel the raw anger vibrating off her, the urge to do something, anything. She spins around, her hands balling into fists at her sides, and I see the spark in her—she wants to be the hero. She wants to stop it all, to fight the system that keeps children like that little boy at the altar.

Before she can take a single step forward, I move quickly, my arm slipping around her waist, pulling her back against me and place my hand firmly over her mouth, shutting her down before she can do anything stupid.

Without waiting, I lift her effortlessly, feeling the fight in her as she struggles in my arms. I don’t pause. I don’t stop to explain. I just move.

I keep walking, each step taking us further from the clearing, from the screams and the ritual. The boy’s desperate cry fades into the distance, but it feels like a weight in my chest, like a venom seeping into my black soul.

She’s still struggling in my arms, but it’s more like a defeated twitch now, yet I don’t stop until we’re deep enough into the woods that we can’t hear the screams anymore, and I set her down. She spins to face me, her eyes wide, furious, terrified, and full of something else. Something I can’t read but something that cuts through me like a blade.

“You let them…” Her tone cracks as she takes a step forward. “You let them hurt him. You didn’t do anything!” Her chest rises and falls as she struggles for breath, the pain on her face so raw that it almost stops me in my tracks.

“Don’t, Raven,” I warn, my voice a growl and sharp, cutting through the tension. “Don’t fucking judge me for something you don’t understand.”

She steps closer, her face full of anger, her eyes searching mine as if she’s looking for a piece of me that’s still human. Still salvageable. “How can you stand there and do nothing, Ty?”

I can feel the edge in her tone, the disgust seeping through the cracks, and it fucking hurts more than I can put into words. But I don’t show it. I can’t. She still isn’t understanding why I bought her here. She’s thinking about why I didn’t act instead of why she’s here in the first place. She stares me straight in the eyes, straight into my soul before she scoffs and walks past me.

“I was that little boy once…” The words leave me like a disease that’s festered inside me for far too long. My eyes blur with tears as I stare at some spot on the leafy ground.

She stops dead in her tracks behind me, and I can’t hear her breath anymore, she’s holding it, thinking, calculating. So, I continue, “My fucking parents stood there and watched too.”

I hear her exhale, the sound piercing through silence. She steps closer, the crunch of leaves under her feet mild. When she stops in front of me, I avert my eyes, keeping my face turned away. I can’t meet her gaze—I already know what I’ll see.

Her hand lifts, and when her fingers touch my cheek, my body tenses instinctively. The softness of her touch makes me feel exposed, vulnerable in a way I’ve never allowed myself to be. She presses her palm gently against my face, urging me silently to look at her, to let her in.

Reluctantly, I let my eyes shift to hers. She searches me, trying to find the truth or the lie. When she finds whatever it is she’s looking for, she swallows hard, her throat bobbing, and slams her hand over her mouth. A small, muffled sob escapes, and I feel it slam into my soul.

She shakes her head once, squeezing her eyes shut, then lowers her head.

“I’m sorry…” she whispers after dropping her hand from her mouth.

Her apology confuses me and my brows pinch. She lifts her head, her wet, red, puffy eyes meeting mine.

“Can you take us back to my car? I can’t be here… Not now.”

I give a small nod before reaching out, taking her shaky hand in mine and I take her back to her car.

…

Driving back to the motel, Raven sat completely silent. I expected her to explode with questions, to demand answers I wasn’t ready to give, but instead, she just stared straight ahead. Her eyes were fixed on the road like she was trying to escape into the darkness beyond it. Tears rushed down her cheeks, glinting faintly in the passing streetlights, and every so often, she sniffled softly.

Her reaction wasn’t what I thought it would be, and it threw me. But somehow, it was better. The questions, the accusations, the desperate attempts to “fix” what’s fucking unfixable—none of it came. That endless, pointless noise I’ve heard from every therapist, every well-meaning social worker, every goddamn judge—it wasn’t there. Just silence.

And her silence said more than words ever could. She gets it now, at least a little. She knows there are no answers that can make this better. No way to wrap this up in a neat little bow of closure. There’s no cure for this sick world or me, no fix for the way people tear people apart and spit out the broken pieces.

It’s a bitter truth, and seeing her wrestle with it hurts more than I thought it would. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Her face is pale, her lips trembling faintly as she fights to maintain her composure. She looks fragile, like glass ready to shatter.

…

When we step into the motel room, the door barely clicks shut behind us before I yank off my mask and hoodie, tossing them onto the chair without a second thought. I head straight for the bathroom, the walls shrinking with every step. I need air. I need silence. I need her not to see me like this.

Inside, I slam the door shut and lean back against it. My hands tremble as I reach for the shower knob, twisting it all the way to the hottest setting. Steam begins to fill the small space, but it does nothing to burn away the images in my head.

The kid’s face—wide-eyed, desperate, trusting—won’t leave me. His screams echo in my skull, overlapping with screams from a lifetime ago. I press my fists into my eyes, trying to scrub them from my memory, but they’re embedded too deep. And Raven—God, the way she looked at me, begging me to help, like I was anything other than what I am. Like I could’ve saved him.

I let him go. Just like I let her know the truth. I was that kid once. I felt the same helplessness, the same betrayal by the ones who were supposed to protect me. The weight of saying it out loud crushes me now, a sickness rising in my gut, spreading through every part of me. It’s too much. All of it.

I strip down in frantic motions as the water pounds against the shower walls, a dull roar that I hope drowns out the storm inside me. I step under the spray, letting the scalding heat hit my skin, but it doesn’t cleanse me. It doesn’t wash away the filth or the pain or the goddamn memories.

I press my forehead against the cold tile, clutching the edge of the showerhead so hard it creaks. My tears mix with the water running down my face as I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it only grows heavier. This is all I’ve ever known. This pain. This darkness. This endless fucking cycle of cruelty. Even my sweet little sister—her memory, her smile—has been tainted by this fucking cruelty. She was my only light, and they stole her from me. They tore her away like she was nothing.

I punch the wall, the sharp sting in my knuckles grounding me for only a second. My chest heaves as I let out a guttural sound I can’t even name—a cry, a scream, maybe both. I dig my nails into my scalp, trying to pull myself back together, but there’s nothing left to hold onto.

The water pools around my feet, but I feel like I’m drowning anyway. All I want is to feel clean—to feel something—but I never will. Not with this blood on my hands. Not with this broken, twisted thing I’ve become.

When my body feels too heavy to carry, I let myself collapse onto the floor, the tiles pressing into my back. My knees draw up, my arms slung over them like dead weight, and I lower my head. My chest feels like it’s caving in, shallow and strained as anxiety sinks deeper into me.

Then, through the hiss of the water, I hear it shift—the small change in its rhythm. My muscles tense as I gradually lift my head and blink through my blurred, weeping eyes.

She lowers herself down, her small, naked body pressing between my legs. She curls herself sideways against me, tucking in, like I won’t shatter the moment she touches me. Her silent presence, her nearness, breaks something inside me—something that I thought had already been broken beyond repair.

A sob breaks free before I can stop it, real and unfiltered, and I lower my head again. She doesn’t recoil, doesn’t abandon me. Instead, she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, holding me. At first, I go stiff, the instinct to push her away rising like an automatic response. I’m not used to this—this compassion, this… love. Not in any form. I’ve never been held, never been fucking cuddled, never been wanted like this.

But slowly, like a caged animal inching toward freedom, I let myself lean into her. I press my face into the crook of her neck, letting her scent, her warmth, envelop me. And eventually—finally—I bring my arms up, trembling as they wrap tightly around her small frame, pulling her into me and I hold her like she’s the only thing keeping me together to this world.

Then something shifts inside me. The constant darkness that’s exhausted me for so long feels… interrupted. Her light—soft, steady and undeniable—pierces through, illuminating even the smallest corner of my abyss. It blinds my gloom, forces it back just enough for me to see her.

She doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t fucking need to. And she doesn’t know how much it means. Her touch, her being here, speaks louder than any words ever could. Her actions say what no one ever said to me before:

You’re not alone. I see you, Ty. I’m fucking here.

And I believe her. For the first time, I believe it. Then, strangely, impossibly, it feels like a part of me, a part I thought was dead forever, begins to heal. Just a tiny piece, but it’s enough. Enough to cling to. Enough to know that in this moment, in this small space, I might actually be worth saving.