Unmask a dark high schoo.., p.30
Unmask: A Dark High School Romance, page 30
A minute later, he returned. And he wasn’t alone.
Kenny.
My knees nearly gave out.
She was bound and blindfolded, her steps stumbling as she was led into the clearing, the little black dress she wore leaving her defenseless against the cold night. My eyes did a quick scan of her body, searching for any evidence that she’d been abused. I couldn’t find any outward marks, no cuts or bruises, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t suffered. I knew all too well that trauma couldn’t always be seen with the eye. At least, she was alive.
“Let her go,” I said, heart in my throat. “Take the restraints off. I said I’d come willingly. No hassle, but not until she’s free.” I wasn’t a complete moron.
The leader glanced at me again, weighing the situation. I nearly told him to just get Rusty if he was having a difficult time making decisions because, after hearing Carson’s confession, I was fully convinced now that he was the traitor. Then the leader nodded once more, and the second guy grumbled but moved to untie her hands.
The moment the blindfold came off, Kenny’s tear-streaked face found me. Her eyes, puffy and wild, locked on mine. “Kaylor?” Her voice was thick with disbelief and fear. “What—what are you—”
Before she could finish, the guy gave her a rough shove in my direction. She stumbled forward, her bare feet digging into gravel, and I moved on instinct, catching her before she hit the ground.
“Oh my god,” she breathed, shaking in my arms. “You shouldn’t be here. You don’t know what they’re planning—”
“I know,” I whispered in her ear as I leaned in, tears blurring my vision. “But you need to listen to me. Carson’s waiting in the car down the road. Go. Run. Don’t stop. He’ll take you to Kreed.”
She pulled back just enough to look into my face, eyes wide. “What? No—no, I’m not leaving you—”
“You have to,” I said, my voice firm now. “It’s the only way we both make it out of this. You have to tell Kreed everything you know. He’ll find me.”
Her chin trembled. “Kaylor—”
“Go,” I said again, urgent now, my hands shaking her shoulders as if I could snap her into reality. “Before they change their minds.”
The man behind us gave a bark through his mask. “Time’s up, dolls.”
I turned and pushed Kenny gently in the direction of the road. “Run,” I whispered.
She hesitated. Just a breath. Just a heartbeat. Then she turned and did what I asked. Ran.
“Go after her,” the masked leader roared.
“No!” I screamed, but the other was already moving. Before I thought about what I was doing, I took off, launching myself onto his back, my arms wrapping around his neck. I squeezed with everything I had, praying it would slow him down as I did my best to make a nuisance of myself.
It didn’t work for long. He was bigger and stronger, and with minimal effort, he had me flipped off him. The asshole tossed me to the ground, hard, and I landed with a jarring thump on my back, a jolt of pain lancing through me, but I rolled, lifting my head to see Kenny disappear into the night. Only when I couldn’t see her anymore did I push myself to my feet, glaring at the masked douchebags. “You got what you wanted,” I said, raising my chin a fraction. “Let’s finish this.”
The leader motioned toward the tower. “Pull a stunt like that again, and you won’t be as lucky as your friend.” His furious eyes shifted to his partner. “Go after her.” He grabbed me under my arm. “You. Inside. And move your ass.”
I hesitated for a breath, and then I commanded my feet to go. As I climbed, splinters caught my palms where the railing had long since rotted. My legs felt like lead, like I was dragging fear up each step with me. I walked slowly.
When I reached the top, the door to the tower groaned open, and as I crossed the threshold, the air changed. He followed behind. Inside was empty… Except for a chair bolted to the floor and a camera set up on a tripod facing it.
A horrible thought sowed terror into my mind, and before I could run, before I could scream, the prick came, a piercing sting in the side of my neck. My hand flew up, but it was too late. The world tilted, and my legs buckled.
As I crumpled to the ground, my captor’s voice echoed distantly, as if it were already behind glass. “You’ve given me quite the run for my money, kiddo.”
It was no fucking surprise that I recognized Rusty’s voice, and the last thing I saw before darkness consumed me was the lens of the camera blinking red.
Recording.
Then nothing.
Just dark.
When I came to, it was like surfacing through tar. My head throbbed with every heartbeat, my limbs were heavy, and my thoughts were slower than they should have been. The smell hit me first, lilies and fresh linens. So out of place I was sure it was a trick.
I sat up with effort, blinking against the warm amber lighting overhead, and realized I wasn’t in a cell. I was in a room. No, a suite. My head fucking spun, and my hand immediately flew to my temple, the other stabilizing myself on the bed. Whatever drugs they gave me, they were potent, the side effects lingering in a nasty, unpleasant way, much like a hangover. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’d drugged the Raven Crew to get here, only to be drugged myself.
Talk about karma being a motherfucker.
The dull throbbing beating against the sides of my head didn’t subside, but eventually my vision cleared, and I got a clearer look at my surroundings.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
Ornate crown molding trimmed the blush and gold walls. The bed I lay in was massive, layered in silk sheets with thick, fluffy pillows that smelled like a luxury hotel. Plush rugs muffled the sound of my bare feet when I swung my legs over the side and stood.
It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
Nothing about this place screamed prison, but I felt the bars all the same.
The windows were tall and curtained but sealed. No way to open them. No sound came from beyond them, no movement, no air. When I reached for the glass doorknob, I wasn’t surprised to find it locked from the outside.
Of course, it was.
A gilded cage was still a cage.
I turned slowly, taking it all in. The vanity lined with untouched perfume bottles. The corner chaise stacked with plush blankets. A walk-in closet full of expensive dresses, most with tags still on them, designer brands, hand-beaded gowns, and lingerie that made my stomach pitch. It didn’t look like the same space that Kenny had been held, but I couldn’t be sure. Not really.
Not that it mattered. It was a mask. A fantasy. A beautiful lie to convince me I wasn’t in hell, but I knew better.
A silk noose still tightened.
When I spotted the camera mounted discreetly in the corner of the ceiling, I knew this wasn’t comfort. It was control.
I strolled through the space carefully, my fingers shaking as I opened the vanity drawers. Lipsticks. Hairbrushes. But no hidden weapons unless I planned to kill my kidnapper with a mascara wand. The closet had shoes in every size. I pulled open one of the drawers, hoping maybe, just maybe, they had been careless.
Inside were stockings. A drawer of jewelry. Diamonds and pearls and gold, probably real, probably worth enough to buy my freedom if that was how this world worked.
But it didn’t.
This wasn’t about value.
It was about ownership.
And that scared me the most.
Not the chains I didn’t see but the fantasy they expected me to accept. And they were watching my every move. The door to my room finally opened, and I saw him.
Fucking Rusty.
He stepped inside, and his presence immediately sucked the oxygen out of the room. He looked so out of place in his oil-stained boots on the shiny tile, echoing far louder than it should have, and yet, he was a king entering his castle.
The bottom of my stomach dropped.
I didn’t know why I expected him to look different. More sinister, maybe. More bloodstained. But he looked the same. Maybe a little grayer at the temples. Maybe his face had softened with the price of living well while the rest of us grieved and survived.
But it was him.
The man who called me kiddo and ruffled my hair. The man who showed up to family barbecues, who slipped me twenty bucks when my mom wasn’t looking, and taught me how to patch a tire when I was thirteen. Who had unveiled Donovan’s deception but carefully kept his own hidden. The man who used to call my dad his brother. How could he be him and also be someone who heartlessly stole people and sold them as if they were meaningless dolls?
His gaze swept over the room, indifferent. Not even stopping on me. “Nice to see you awake,” he said lightly, like we’d bumped into each other in a grocery store aisle and not in a fucking nightmare of his own making.
My throat burned. “How could you?”
His eyes flicked toward me, quick and impersonal. “It’s not so bad, right?” He gestured vaguely toward the silk sheets, the opulent walls, and the mirrored vanity. “They’ll take care of you here, and soon you’ll be living a life of luxury just like you’re used to.”
I almost laughed. Almost. The sound got stuck somewhere between fury and disbelief. “How fucking cliché,” I spat. “My father’s best friend killed him. The one person he trusted the most. Or maybe he didn’t trust you. Maybe he figured you out too late, uncovered what you were doing behind his back, and instead of owning your shit, you decided to silence him. You betrayed him. The crew. You sold out the people who would’ve bled for you. For what? A fatter paycheck? A bigger cut of the fucking pie?”
His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Not quite a wince. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” I snapped, taking a step forward, my nails digging into my palms. Not that I would believe a word out of the bastard’s mouth.
He sighed and looked up, toward the corner of the ceiling at the camera. Watching. Always watching. Then he looked back down at me like I was a child having a tantrum. “This goes beyond me. It’s much bigger than your dad ever realized. Bigger than any of us small-town players.” He spread his hands wide, palms up in a gesture of false helplessness. “I didn’t build this machine, kiddo. But I’m not stupid enough to stand on the wrong side of it when it comes rolling through.”
“You’re on the wrong side,” I shot back. “You’re selling girls like livestock. You’re going to sell me.” I didn’t know that for an absolute fact, but every instinct I possessed screamed that it was true.
He didn’t deny it, confirmation in the absence of words. “You don’t belong in Elmwood anymore,” he said finally. “It’s not safe for you. Not anymore.”
“Don’t you dare pretend this has anything to do with my safety.” The rage building inside me was volcanic, molten, and ready to erupt. “This is about you and your cowardly ass. About protecting your own worthless skin. It always has been. You don’t give a single shit about me, and you sure as hell didn’t care about my dad when you sold him out.”
His mask slipped for just a fraction, something ugly surfacing behind his eyes before the practiced neutrality slammed back into place. “I can assure you I took no pleasure in making the tough decisions your father couldn’t.”
The casual dismissal of my father’s character and his death, spoken like it was some unfortunate business transaction, shattered what little control I had left.
“Fuck you!” I hissed and lunged.
My body moved before my brain could catch up, pure instinct and fury driving me forward. My nails found his face before he could even think to react, digging deep furrows from his temple to his jaw. Skin tore like paper under my fingertips. He shouted in shock and pain, stumbling backward as red bloomed beneath his eye, the blood dripping steadily into the starched collar of his white shirt.
“You little bitch!” he growled, one hand flying to his face while the other shot out to steady himself against the wall. His fingers came away slick with crimson. “You’re lucky they still want you pretty, or I’d—”
But I wasn’t done. Not even close. The taste of his blood in the air only fed the fire burning in my veins. “You’re going to pay for what you did to Kenny,” I seethed. “For what you did to my parents. I’ll fucking kill you myself.” The vow vibrated in my chest like a struck tuning fork, resonating with every beat of my heart.
His hand dove into his jacket pocket, his fingers closing around something that made him straighten with renewed confidence. I couldn’t see what it was, but the motion was enough to freeze me in place. Even through the red haze of rage, some primitive survival instinct reminded me I wasn’t invincible.
He straightened slowly. Blood continued to smear across his cheek in abstract patterns. “Calm down,” he snapped, his voice regaining its earlier authority. “Or I’ll have them pump you full of sedatives again. And I’d really hate for you to miss the show.”
The blood in my veins went ice cold. “What show?”
His eyes darted to the camera again, just a blink, barely perceptible, but I caught it.
And I knew.
“Who’s watching me?” I demanded, my voice climbing toward hysteria. “Who the fuck is watching me right now?” Lightning struck somewhere behind my ribs, sending electric panic racing through my nervous system. My breath came fast, instantly evoking terror.
His smile was the answer before he even opened his mouth. “Just a few potential buyers. Turns out you’re worth significantly more to me alive and undamaged than as a corpse.”
“No,” I said, backing up until my spine hit the wall. I shook my head frantically, like I could physically dislodge the horrifying thought taking root in my brain. “No, he’ll kill you for this. When he finds out—”
Rusty’s smile widened. The expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Who? Your boyfriend? That Corvo psychopath?” He laughed humorlessly. “Kiddo, you’ll be gone before he even knows where to start looking.”
It was my turn to smile. The expression felt foreign on my face, dangerous in a way that surprised even me. “Then I really can’t wait to see the look on your face,” I said, my voice dropping, “right before you fucking die.”
His expression slipped, a shadow of doubt gleaming in his features. “You’re worse than I thought. He’s really done a number on you.” The door slammed shut between us with the finality of a coffin lid closing. Then came the locks, clunking into place one after another in a mechanical symphony of captivity.
One. Two. Three.
I stared at the hairline seam in the door frame, the blood still hot in my veins, rage and terror mixing into something combustible.
Three locks.
Rusty thought that would be enough to keep me contained.
He had no idea who Kreed Corvo was.
And he had absolutely no fucking clue what I was willing to do, what lines I was prepared to cross, to get back to the people I loved.
The camera blinked at me from its corner perch, recording every moment of my captivity for its unseen audience. But let them watch. Let them see exactly what they thought they were buying.
They were about to learn that some cages couldn’t hold what lived inside them.
And just how fucking sharp a raven’s claws could be.
23
KREED
Iwoke up cold.
Not just physically, but the type of cold that sinks into your marrow and tells you something’s wrong before your brain has even caught up. The taste in my mouth was wrong, bitter and chemical, like I’d been sucking on pennies. My arm stretched across the sheets, my fingers searching through the rumpled fabric for her.
Empty.
No Kaylor.
The realization hit me like a physical blow. I sat up fast, the sudden movement making my head whirl as my chest already began compressing with a familiar panic. The bedroom was still dark, pale moonlight trying to bleed through the heavy curtains, casting everything in shades of gray and shadow, but all I saw was the twisted bedding where she should have been and the gaping absence of her presence, no indent in the pillow, no lingering warmth, nothing.
Where was she? And how the hell did I get upstairs? My thoughts moved through thick fog, memories fragmented and unclear. I vaguely remembered Kaylor helping me as I stumbled around in the middle of the night, legs heavy as lead, and falling into bed with her.
It was unusual that Kaylor woke before me, mostly because I hardly seemed to sleep these days. My internal clock had been shot to hell for weeks, hypervigilance keeping me on edge even when exhaustion threatened to drag me under.
A part of me longed to roll back over and continue sleeping, to sink back into the merciful oblivion that had claimed me. God knew I freaking needed it, every muscle in my body aching with a bone-deep fatigue that came from running on fumes and adrenaline, but there was this whisper in my ear, insistent and urgent, urging me to find her. I was never one to ignore those little nudges of intuition; they’d saved my life too many times to count.
Something felt off, and I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep until I knew she was safe.
I shoved off the covers with more force than necessary, the fabric tangling around my ankles as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I yanked on a hoodie from the chair nestled in the corner, the soft cotton still carrying the faint traces of her perfume. I glanced at the bathroom, but the door was wide-open, darkness yawning beyond the threshold. No water running. No shower steam. No little raven.
“Kaylor?” I called out, my voice bouncing off the empty walls as I moved into the hall. The sound came back to me hollow and unanswered, making the house feel even more cavernous than usual.
I wandered from room to room, poking my head into each doorway before trotting downstairs. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked with metronomic precision, each second stretching like an eternity. Nothing. Kitchen—empty, coffee maker cold and unused. Library—empty, books sitting undisturbed on their shelves. The air itself felt different, charged with an absence that made my skin crawl.
