Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Wyn

Once we’re upstairs, Gabriel pulls me down the long, dark hallway, toward the back of the house. Only the Sacred Sons or invited guests are allowed up here, so even during parties, it’s empty. The pulsing music from downstairs is still audible but dampened by the walls.

“I’m sure Lucas won’t mind if we use his bedroom. Do you?” Gabriel bites out. “You’ve spent so much fucking time there already.”

I suck in a breath. How does he know that? And how does he know where Lucas’ bedroom is? He’s supposed to have amnesia, right? I mean, Gabriel did find me in Lucas’ bedroom on the night he miraculously rose from the dead, so maybe that’s what he’s remembering, but…I don’t know. Something isn’t right. Even my inebriated brain realizes he’s not acting like a guy who lost his memory.

When we reach Lucas’ bedroom door, Gabriel pushes it open, and that soapy, musky, minty smell that’s all Lucas rushes at me, and I panic. Whatever Gabriel has planned, I know for a fact , it’s not gently tucking me in and letting me “rest.”

He tries to tug me through the door, but I pull against him. “I, um, have something special planned for you, and I really need to be downstairs,” I say.

I don’t have anything planned, actually, but he doesn’t know that. Lightning quick, an idea comes to me. I could light some candles on the cake and lead everyone in a chorus of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” or some bullshit. Gabriel loves being the center of attention. He would eat that up.

He pulls me forcefully over the threshold, then picks me up, and tosses me unceremoniously onto Lucas’ massive bed. I swallow and scramble up into a sitting position, my back pressed against the headboard.

I’ve found myself in this exact position far too many times lately. But this time, there’s no excitement flickering in my chest. There’s only dread. My stomach tightens, and my heart beats so fast that I start to feel dizzy.

Up here, no one can hear us, and I doubt Lucas or any of the other guys will wander upstairs anytime soon.

Gabriel walks over to the door, locks it, and then disappears into the closet. My gaze darts to the door. How long would it take me to sprint across the room? It’s a huge room and I mentally calculate three to four seconds to get from here to the door—but I’d have to pass the closet, then fumble with the lock…

Gabriel emerges from the closet before I can find the courage to make a run for it. The bedroom is dark, but the light in the closet is on, and the glow frames Gabriel as he steps out, into the room…with a mask on his face and a knife in his hand.

The same mask my stalker wore.

And the same knife my stalker fucked me with.

I let out a gasp, my heart rate skyrocketing into cardiac arrest territory.

Lucas was my stalker. He admitted it, right? Right?! And the bag was in his closet.

I swallow. “W-what are you doing?”

“I found this shit in Lucas’ closet the other night, and I thought we could have some fun,” he says. The mask covers his mouth, but I can hear the smirk in his voice.

As he walks toward me, I wonder how I ever thought my stalker was Gabriel. He moves so much differently than Lucas. He carries himself differently.

Whenever my stalker— Lucas —entered the room, the energy shifted. He owned the space and everything in it, including me. Especially me. Power and confidence rolled off him.

But Gabriel…it’s clear he’s trying to convey confidence, but his stride is less sure, more hesitant. His shoulders are curved slightly inward, his limbs too loose.

“Alexis is probably already looking for me,” I toss out.

He just shakes his head slowly and continues his advance. My mind scrambles for any possible way I can get myself out of this, and short of screaming—which will be drowned out by the music downstairs—I come up blank.

He approaches the bed, knife clutched in his fist, and I brace myself as his knee hits the mattress. He leans toward me, and I can’t help it, I suck in a breath, and every muscle in my body tenses up.

“Are you afraid of me now, Pretty Thing?”

Toward the end of our relationship, I was always a little afraid of him. And not in a fun way, like with Lucas. I always thought I hid that fear well, though. Maybe I’m just shit at hiding it now. Or maybe he’s just slightly more unhinged than he was before, which is saying a lot, actually.

“I’m just…it’s been an intense couple of days, and I’m not sure I’m ready to…”

His free hand darts out, and he grabs my throat, his eyes narrowing. Even in the near-darkness, I can see how bank and emotionless they are. His large hand spans the entire width of my throat, and squeezes, cutting off my air supply.

When I can’t pull in even a tiny bit of air, I panic, my feet kicking frantically, my hands clawing at his fingers. Tears start forming in my eyes, and I open my mouth to scream, but there’s no sound.

His masked face comes close to mine. “I’ve heard you like this shit now,” he says with venom in his tone. “Rumor has it you’ve been whoring yourself out while I’ve been gone.”

He shakes me a little, squeezing even harder, and I feel my grip on consciousness start to loosen—but I fight it with everything I have because I know if I lose consciousness, that’s it. I’m dead.

By some miracle, my knee manages to connect with his balls, and he reels back, releasing my throat. I scramble to the other side of the bed, and practically fly off the mattress, making a beeline for the closest exit, which happens to be the French doors that lead out onto the balcony.

Gabriel is right behind me, but I manage to get the door unlocked and fling it open. As I rush out into the cold night air and throw myself at the wood railing, a scream is ripped from my throat. The sound is so loud and so visceral, it scrapes painfully over my vocal cords.

“ Fuck! ” Gabriel lurches forward and grabs my upper arm. A fraction of a second before he yanks me back inside, I see several people standing on the lawn below, hanging around the firepit—dancing, drinking, laughing.

Did any of them even see me?

Gabriel shuts and locks the doors, then throws me back onto the bed. He still has the knife in his hand, and holds it up to my throat, the tip digging into my skin. “Do that again,” he hisses. “And the only person coming for you will be the fucking coroner. He’s a friend of mine, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind fudging your autopsy a little.”

I swallow, my entire body running cold. Ice cold. I don’t even think my heart is pumping. I can’t feel it. Am I breathing? Everything feels suspended in time and space. I can’t even feel my limbs, otherwise, I’d be clawing out his fucking eyes right now.

Anger bubbles up inside me, but I’m powerless to do anything about it. I must be in shock or something, and that’s probably the most terrifying part of all this. I can’t even try to protect myself.

Tearing the mask off, he flings the fabric aside and pushes the tip of the blade into my throat, even deeper. The sharp sting makes me wince. If this were Lucas, I might be turned on by this, but that’s the thing—I know Lucas would never really hurt me. Even when he came to me as the masked man, it was more about control. It was never this .

Sweat beads on Gabriel’s forehead, and his breathing is ragged, his eyes wide, like he’s under the influence of something. He’s never been this violent with me, which makes me wonder if he took something new, something he’d never tried before.

Regardless, he’s going to kill me if I can’t get away somehow.

My eyelids flutter closes as the blade continues to bite into me. He shifts off me partially, and I can hear him fumble with his belt. I suck in a breath and force my body to relax as he removes the knife away from my throat so he can shove my skirt up, and pull my panties aside.

The knife is lying next to us on the bed, and he leans down to kiss me. I jerk my head to the side—I’m capable of that much movement, at least—and that infuriates him.

Pulling back a little, he uses one hand to grab my jaw, yanking my head back, so I’m looking at him. Then he slaps me hard a cross the face. White-hot pain blooms across my cheek, making my eyes water. And that wakes my body up. My fight or flight instinct comes roaring back, and I scream—like really scream—the high-pitched tone piercing even my own ears, blending with the music that’s vibrating through the walls.

With a curse, he claps his hand over my mouth, muting the sound. Then he leans in, and says, “You’ve always been such a cunt ,” he hisses. “But you’re my cunt, and I think it’s time you’re reminded of that.”

He uses his free hand to adjust himself, so he’s situated between my thighs. While he’s distracted, I slowly reach for the knife. It’s dark enough, I pray he doesn’t see my hand move, but there’s always a chance he will. And if he does, I’m royally fucked. But I have to take the chance, because the truth is, I’m fucked either way. And if he chokes me out again, I may not wake up the next time.

As he pushes the crotch of my panties aside again, I suck in a breath and search for the handle of the knife. My fingers bump up against the cold handle just as he’s guiding the tip of his cock to my entrance.

Just as my hand closes around the handle, someone pounds on the bedroom door. It causes Gabriel to pause, but only for a second. A deep baritone calls out from the other side of the door, but over the distant sound of music and the deafening thump of my own heart, I can’t tell who it is.

Please let it be Lucas.

Gabriel is just about to get up when the door is kicked open violently. The solid wood door flies inward, bouncing off the wall, pulling Gabriel’s focus off me—thank God. I use the distraction to scramble out from under him, moving across the mattress, to the other side of the bed. As I get to my feet, I glance at the menacing figure in the doorway.

It’s Lucas.

His jaw is set, his head tilted downward, his focus drilled in on Gabriel, like a fighter assessing his opponent. He looks absolutely deadly.

His gaze shifts to me, only briefly, before moving back to his cousin. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he yells, taking a menacing step into the room.

Gabriel shoves his dick back into his pants, but he doesn’t bother zipping back up before lifting his hands in mock surrender. He laughs. “Yo, Cuz. A bit much, don’t you think?” He glances over at me. “We were just getting reacquainted. Didn’t think you’d mind us using your room.”

Gone is the murderous cocksucker that was choking me out three seconds ago. Now Gabriel is all good-natured charm. Wow. Watching him flip that switch so easily sends a cold shiver down my spine.

With tears still streaming down my face, I cross the room to the open bedroom door. As I pass Lucas, he reaches out to grab my arm, stopping me. His eyes rove over my face, then drop to my neck. There’s a mark there, I’m sure. Not only did the tip of the knife break the skin, but when he choked me, the pressure was insane. There’s no way his hand didn’t leave a bruise.

When Lucas sees the damage Gabriel did to me, his jaw tightens, and his gaze slides back to his cousin. “Did you fucking touch her?”

“Dude, come on. Chill,” Gabriel laughs, and pushes a hand through his hair, like this is all just a misunderstanding. “You know how fuckin’ spirited Wyn can be, man. We were just having a little fun.”

Tension crackles in the air, and it’s so thick I can almost taste it. Lucas is the first to move, launching forward, his long legs crossing the room in three steps. He throws a punch, his fist connecting with Gabriel’s jaw.

Gabriel’s head whips to the side, a sickening crack echoing through the room. Gabriel straightens, a smirk on his face. Lucas comes at him again, this time with a more calculated swing. It connects again.

I gasp, my fingers digging into my palms. Gabriel stumbles back, wiping the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. He looks at the blood, then at Lucas, and something dangerous flickers in his eyes. Without warning, he lunges, his movements swift and brutal. He drives his fist into Lucas’ stomach, and Lucas doubles over with a grunt.

I want to yell "Stop,” but the word dies on my tongue. My voice feels too small, too powerless to stop this. Lucas grabs Gabriel by the shirt, slamming him into the wall behind them, pinning him there with his forearm pressed against his throat.

"Touch her again, cousin, and I swear to God, this time, you’ll stay dead," Lucas growls.

Gabriel spits, blood staining his teeth. He glances at me, then back at Lucas. "You want her, you can fucking have her,” he snarls. “She’s a whore anyway.”

Lucas steps back, releasing Gabriel. Gabriel wipes his mouth again, and with one last look at me, he shakes his head and then leaves the room. As soon as he’s gone, Lucas shuts and locks the door, head down, hand pressed against the wood.

He stays like that for a long time, his shoulders rising and falling, and I wonder what’s going through his head. I can’t hardly believe what I just witnessed. I never thought I’d see Lucas attack Gabriel like that. Lucas can be brutal, but I’ve never seen it directed at his cousin.

Finally, Lucas turns, switches on the overhead light, and walks over to me. His face is hard and unreadable, so when he reaches out to touch my face, I flinch.

He takes my chin between his thumb and the crook of his forefinger, forcing me to look at him. “What happened?”

I shake my head, and fresh tears start falling down my face. I don’t want to tell him because I might start blubbering, so instead of answering, I press my lips together and avert my gaze.

He doesn’t push me, thankfully. Releasing my chin, he walks into the bathroom, and rustles around for a minute, reemerging with a first aid kit.

“Sit down,” he says, flicking his chin toward the bed.

I do as I’m told, climbing onto the large bed, sitting on the edge, facing him. Without saying anything, he pulls out an alcohol wipe, tears it open, and smoothes the cold, wet pad over the cut on my neck.

I wince at the sting, and he growls low in his throat. Once the alcohol is dry, he rubs some antiseptic on my cut, then steps back. He studies my throat before his eyes climb up to my face. His expression darkens.

I shift under his scrutiny. I don’t know what he sees, but it can’t be good, and I suddenly feel self-conscious. He reaches up and touches my face, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. His expression softens, but that tic in his jaw starts pulsing. “What happened?” he asks again. “Did he?—?”

He wants to know how far Gabriel got before he intervened. I just shake my head, then ask my own question. “How did you know to come?”

His gaze continues its journey across my face like he’s studying every detail and trying to commit it to memory. “A couple of people out by the firepit saw you on the balcony, and they came to tell me.”

I nod. Thank God for that.

Lucas leans over me, and pulls the covers back, fluffing the pillows behind me. “Lie down, and get some rest,” he says.

Panic grips me because it sounds like he’s leaving. “Where are you going?”

His jaw tightens. “There’s something I need to finish…”