I should free them.
I know I should do the right thing.
But if I do, I’ll lose the key to unlock the secret my father kept from me and my brother. I cast a quick glance at River who’s seated beside me and wonder if this is the moment I should confess. If I should tell him I know where his family is. Well, not his whole family, just his mother.
I know if I do, he’ll never forgive me. If what I found in my father’s safe is the truth, I don’t know if my best friend will ever find it in his heart to love someone with the Savage name again. Not after the lies he’s been fed all his life by Malcolm Savage.
I pull up to the ornate wrought-iron gates. I haven’t thought about what I’ve just done. Killed someone. I know my team will do a clean-up of the house, and I’ll be having a drink by the time the police find the bodies washed up on the shore. But somewhere deep-down, guilt still festers. Even though they deserved it, I now have more blood on my hands. Soon, I’ll be stained with the metallic liquid, and I’ll never be able to cleanse myself of it again.
“You know, we could just go to the house and get some rest,” River suggests. “And you—”
“Would you cut the shit, River?” I snap, frustrated at his insistence. “Look, I don’t need anything else right now. We’ll call over a pretty blonde from the place we always get them from, pay the fee for the night, and send her packing when we’re done.” I groan as I park the car. “Tonight, while she’s sucking your cock clean after you’ve fucked me, I’ll ram her tight little cunt. Is that so difficult for you to understand?”
His chuckle lightens the tension between us, and I exit the car without waiting for his response. I went overboard tonight. I love control. Usually, I’m calm, but those two monsters needed to pay for what they did to River, Dante, and me. I feel like it’s an evening for a celebration. My best friend joins me as we head into the mansion.
“I’m sorry,” I find myself uttering before I have time to rethink it. River’s been there for me through everything. He’s stayed by my side even though he’s seen what my family has done. I know it’s because he’s got nowhere else to go, but when my father died, I gave him an out. I told him to leave. He refused, telling me he was staying beside me until this is done.
He’s supported me when I asked him for things no friend should do for another. And even through our difficult path, we’ve still found friendship, and he’s given me a love I can’t return. Even though he knows I can’t, it doesn’t stop him from telling me how he feels.
The dungeon is lit in the familiar yellow glow. My body aches. I’ve been bound to the bench. I’m bent at the waist. My hands are fastened with thick twine holding me in place. I can’t think because they’ve drugged me or something. I’m not sure, but I know this isn’t over.
“Drake.” I hear my name, but I don’t open my eyes. I’m hallucinating, and if I do glance up and he’s not there, I’ll feel the agony of my heart breaking once more. I can’t allow him to see me like this. “Drake. Open your eyes,” River’s voice comes again.
When my lids finally crack, I find green eyes piercing me with concern written on his beautiful face.
He reaches for me, cupping my cheek in his smooth hand. His touch is tender, affectionate, and I allow myself a moment to lean into it. I shouldn’t do this. But I can’t stop the need to feel something other than the pain burning through my lower half.
“What did they do?”
“Help me,” I rasp, tugging on the rope that’s secured to the legs of the bench.
He nods. His fingers move swiftly, and it doesn’t take him long to free me. River helps me dress in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. His arms wrap around me, offering me the love I can never return.
We’ve known each other for seven years. We’re both reaching the age where most kids are graduating from high school, but we’re held in here like prisoners. He leads me up to my bedroom. Once I’m lying on the soft mattress, he curls up beside me and questions once more.
“What happened?”
“They made me watch the videos again.” I shudder as I quietly recall the moment the television screen lit up with images I can never expunge from my mind.
“And the blood?”
Another shudder of revulsion races through me when I open my mouth to speak. But the words I want to say don’t come. I can’t tell my best friend what happened. Even if he knows, he’s been through it as well, I’m ashamed of myself for surviving and for the pleasure I found as they forced me to endure it.