The bread is soft and warm, the butter melting on it making my mouth water. I stuff it in my mouth, not bothering to chew. I need to eat, and the ravenous feeling overwhelms me. Tears trickle from my eyes once more as I revel in the flavors on my tongue.
I drink the water from the mug on the tray. It satiates my thirst like I’ve been given life once more. Moments later the tray is empty. I lift it in order to place it on the floor, but as soon as I attempt to stand, my legs give out and I fall to my knees, the metal clanking loudly. My ears feel as if they’re about to shatter, and that’s when my eyes flutter closed once more.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DRAKE
“You’re ready, son.” My father glares at me. Malcolm has been a man of many faces. Most think he’s an upstanding citizen, but those who know who he truly is, down to his rotten soul, they’re the ones who respect him more than anything. They fear him. They fucking love him.
And you know why?
Because he offers them what they want. Fantasies that would make the most fucked-up asshole cringe.
Depraved.
Vile.
Filthy.
“You want me to do it?”
He snaps his gaze to me, those blue orbs that match mine and Dante’s pierce me, and I feel it down to my fucking soul. At twenty-five, I should be out chasing girls and partying up a storm. Instead, he’s imprisoned me as much as he has the rest of those who work here.
“If you’re a pussy and can’t do it, you can watch,” he grunts, waving his hand at Ivor who’s been in this dungeon for more than eight years. The large man who resembles an ogre is fast on his feet, and he’s got me in a grip so tight it steals my breath.
“I can, just let me go, Dad,” I try to reason with him, but he’s already got the opera playing through the speakers. “Ivor, just let me go. I can do the training.” All my pleading falls on deaf ears. As much as I’ve been working for my father, he’s still in charge. I’m pushed onto a steel contraption similar to the seating at a sports stadium at the far wall, which offers me a clear view of the table he’s about to mutilate Caia on.
A flannel gag is shoved into my mouth, and I spit it out immediately. Ivor knows better than to attempt this shit with me. He may be my father’s right-hand man, but I’m the son of Malcolm Savage, and one day I’ll make sure he pays for the shit he’s done.
The door flies open, and one of my father’s men stalks in with her passed out, and I realize the lunch she’d eaten must’ve ensured it. She’s placed on the table; a cold, metal surgeon’s table, and my body turns rigid.
Another person is brought inside, and I meet his gaze. My best friend. The only person who’s stood by me besides my brother. I hope Dante doesn’t come downstairs. He doesn’t need to watch this. Even though we’re the same age bar a couple of minutes in between, I feel overly protective of my brother.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I hiss at River who finds his place beside me.
“I’m not letting you go through this alone.” His words are a salve. But I know they’ll never heal the brokenness inside me.
“Ah, young River. You’re here to enjoy the show?” My father glares at him, and I know he doesn’t like my best friend. We’ve never learned who River’s family is, and over the years, he’s become like part of the family. Only, I know my feelings for my best friend run far deeper.
I know it’s about to go downhill when two men stalk into the space, bodyguards, and they’re followed by three men and two women. All dressed immaculately, they seat themselves not far from the table.
We’re not to move. My father’s rules have always been very specific. Even though I can physically walk out of here at any moment, I know I can’t because he’ll do something he’s threatened me with all my life. He’ll kill River and Dante. Two people who mean more to me than anything. So, I sit.
Watching the scene play out before me. One I’ve watched so many times. The girl is lifted onto an apparatus that has her bound to an X-shaped wooden cross. She’s naked, and her supple body causes my cock to throb.
That’s why we’re all broken here. Our minds have been fractured, and in the gaps where sanity should lie, we’ve been drenched in the depravity. Her eyes flutter open, and they land on mine as if they’re opposite poles of a magnet.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CAIA
The gathering watches me cry. The heat of the blood dripping from between my legs scorches me. I can’t move, my legs are useless, my brain screaming at them to do something, but they can’t.