Page 101 of Wraith

Do I know how long that will take?

No.

All I know is that I have to hold on, to give — my blood, my pain, my life — until I can’t give anything more. For once in my life, all I can do, all I want to do, is just give to her.

“Well, Wraith, this has been fun. But now it’s time for me to ask you: are you ready for it to be over?” Midnight leers over me.

It’s just him and me now; Moose, Irons, and the others left hours ago. Only Midnight has the tenacity, patience, and sheer sexual desire for this much torture. Yes, he’s fucking hard. Has been for hours. Blood is this motherfucker’s Viagra.

“Over? When we haven’t even finished the foreplay?”

His boot lands on the side of my head, and he knows how to apply just enough pressure to make my skull feel like an overripe watermelon ready to give, but not ready to crack; bone groans, shifts, and bends, but doesn’t snap.

I moan.

So does Midnight. Not loud, but just loud enough for me to hear.

“I like the way you talk, Wraith.”

He kneels, with his boot still on my head, and his fingers find their way into the gash on my forehead. They dig, they peel, they fondle; fingernails scrape against bone; I scream.

“You know, that little cunt never really gave a shit about you. So why are you protecting her? Why are you holding on when she wouldn’t do the same for you?” His fingers drum a rhythm against the gash in my forehead; vibrations surge through bone and blood. “Think about that. That bitch has sold you out. You’re going to die here. That’s the truth. You are going to die. And the only thing that determines whether the rest of your life is measured in minutes or days is whether you simp for that stupid cunt.”

His fingers leave the gash in my head. There’s a wet, sucking sound.

“So, just do the right thing. Tell me where she is, and then, once we’ve grabbed her, I’ll put a bullet in your skull. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

It does.

The bullet, at least.

A way out.

But I’m done taking from June. Done putting myself over her.

It’s time for me to give. To put myself under… Midnight.

“I thought you were here to torture me. So why the fuck are we wasting words? Do your fucking worst, Midnight. I’ll never give her up.”

A chuckle. The pressure of his boot on my skull. Pain that explodes behind my eyes.

“Looks like you finally grew some balls, Wraith. Thank you. I haven’t had this much fucking fun in a long time.”

He strikes me, and my head recoils and bounces back onto the hardwood floor. My vision swims, goes black, then comes back in streaky color stained red with blood. Laughter splits my eardrums as he batters me, and I spit blood and snot upon the floor as he grabs my hair and grinds my face in it.

I think of her as he beats me.

I think of her as he ruins me.

I hold on for all I’ve got, and I whisper.

“I’m sorry, June.”

Chapter Forty-Three

June

The rumble of a motorcycle engine cuts through the morning air before I even finish getting dressed. I’m pulling on jeans when I hear boots hitting pavement at a run. The housekeeper’s still here, fussing with her cart, but she steps aside as the door flies open and Evan bursts through like a hurricane in human form.