I know you are all waiting on this...it's pretty long, and I've only done a couple of quick read-through edits, so I apologize if there are errors. I figure you'd rather have it now than tomorrow. It's about twice as long as a normal chapter... a lot is happening here. Enjoy!
Ashlynn, one hour ago
Downtown LA is a blur of hazy orange as we make our way to Slade's impressive post-modern home in the hills.
I feel disoriented, but I try hard to focus my breathing and trust in the plan.
Mac's instincts are as sharp as Leed's. Surely she read the situation correctlyâthat Slade had sped up the timeline for me resuming my contract of submission. She knows what to do. Tamara has promised to carry the go-bag filled with the costuming and the listening equipment continuously, for this exact contingencyâstaying ahead of Slade's sudden and whimsical maneuvers to keep me off balance and seize control of me.
I should have known Slade would not keep the agreement we made. He agreed to give me this night with Leed. A consolation, a moment in which I make my peace with the new arrangement Slade believes I have accepted: so be his part-time, on-call submissive.
Ironic that it was the reports of my break-up with Leed that finally prompted Slade to contact me again, and bluntly extort my submission with threats against Leed's career. Not only that, he suggested that I could resume my "superficial" relationship with Leed at the same time.
I couldn't understand it at firstâwhy Slade would want me to be his submissive and at the same time, work to get back together with Leed.
I thought Slade would be happy that Leed and I broke up.
He wasn't.
As Slade coolly explained that he found my break-up with Leed, and my fleeing LA, unsatisfactory events because it deprived him of the opportunity to resume our "relationship" on a basis that was convenient to him, I finally understood the depths of Slade's depravity.
His need to dominate me isn't just because I remind him of his mother anymore. If he ever actually wanted me to get sober and healthyâin his mind, fixing what couldn't be healed in his motherâI'm not sure. I am sure, he's now black with hate towards both Leed and I, because I healed without his help, but with Leed's. Because I am happy. Because I am capable of love, but I don't love him. So now, Slade wants to hurt me in the worst wayâby making me betray the man I love, over and over again.
He loves the idea of Leed thinking that I'm his, and yet me knowing I belong to Slade. He loves the idea of forcing me to lie, cheat and delude Leed. He delights in the idea that he will "beat" Leed" by compelling me to leave Leed's side and join him in this dirty secret life on command.
He loves this idea so much, that he's actually been quite patient with me as I struggled to accept that he has me backed into a corner. Our first few phone calls ended in me assuring him I would never submit to him again and him assuring me that he understood my current feelings, but he would give me more time to consider.
He gave me a deadline that is one week from todayâthe date that the Double Impact Tour is set to start. He thought it would be easiest for me to resume my sub training while Leed was on the road, although he assured me I would have "days off" to do with whatever I pleasedâincluding joining Leed on tour. But he also assured me that his deadline is firm. One day past my deadline, I could come crawling on my knees to him, and it wouldn't matter. He would destroy Leed as soon as the Double Impact Tour was done.
"He has a noose around his neck, my dear. You can cut the rope. Or you can let him hang by the neck all summer, not even knowing he's dead yet."
I have done my best not to believe Slade means what he says. In the weeks since Leed broke up with me, I deluded myself into thinking I could put Slade off indefinitely. I pushed his phone calls to the back of my mind, and tried to focus on daily tasks at home with my parents and Cam. I tried to pretend Slade's dirty world was a nightmare that I had woken from. I tried to tell myself that as long as I stayed in Atlanta, and he wasn't confronted by my returned health or by seeing me with Leed, his rage would fade. I convinced myself that Slade is whimsical and unbalanced, and just like he seemed to come to his senses and let me go after he cut me, he would come to his senses again. I told myself Slade was making empty threats, and that there was no way he would sacrifice Colossal's most lucrative act by sabotaging it's front man.
I told myself to wait out his threatening calls. I told myself his attention would fade. But the whole time I was telling myself these things, the cunning drug addict Ashlynn was already working in my brainâplanning, plotting, preparing an escape plan.
Cam is maybe not so wrong about me. I'm not mentally ill, but I'm a woman with...facets. Leed is not wrong, either. I have a lot of light, but when it bounces off my facets, it changes. Sometimes it's reflected more brilliantlyâlike when I'm with Leed. Sometimes, when I am hurting, it's absorbed and I use all the light I possess internally, for my own survival.
I am sunshine.I am also the dark night with no moon.
I am goddess. I am witch.
So when I saw the pictures of Leed with Sophie, I had one of those moments of darkness. I had revenge sex with Cam. I tried to convince myself that Leed's fate was his own, and that a life with Cam was my best survival option.
In that moment of darkness, I saw the light. I realized I could never, ever accept the life I could have with Cam.
Loving Leed is a thing I can not flee.
Walking out of Cam's apartment, that's the moment I chose to fight for Leed, fight for love.
And thanks to my dark side, I already had the plan simmering in the black cauldron of my soul.
I called Slade. I told him his threats had undone me, and that I was using again, and that I needed help. He assured me he would help me, if I accepted his proposition. We agreed that I would return to LA for the Grammy's, that I would sign my new contract of submission at a time to be arranged the following week, and the commencement date would be the start of the Double Impact Tour.
After that I went straight to Marley. I don't know her that well, but I see in her the same kind of thing that's in me...a hardness beneath her serenity. She's been through some shit and what's more...she knows how people's minds work.
I dragged her away from Bodie for a coffee date away from his listening ears, and I told her everythingâmy past, my present, and my plan to thwart Slade. Marley has this beautiful quality about herâshe wants to help people. Maybe even more than I do. Once I told her everything, she was all in.
Before we called Mac, Marley and I took the one step that plan hinged onâwe went to her ex boyfriend who is a drug dealer, and he helped us get the drugs I wanted. The Devil's Breath is not easy to come byâI have only ever seen it used onceâ but Damien found a supply and even had its effects tested to make sure it was actually what it was supposed to be. Marley supervised the "guinea pig" that Damien ordered to take the drug. Under her suggestion, it was like the guy was hypnotized. He would do anything she suggested. More importantly, he answered uncomfortable questions willingly and truthfully. Well, at least his friends said he was being truthful.
The hardest thing Marley helped me with was calling her other ex-boyfriend, Kade. But she did it, and without explaining to him the reasons, she asked him for a one time favor, and despite their break-up, he agreed. He wrote me a prescription for the glaucoma eyedrops that narrow my pupils down to pinpoints and make me look high on opiates.
Of course, it was nothing for me to get my hands on some vicadin. I didn't even bother asking Damien. I was able to buy that on the street not far from Bodie's new house.
Being in possession of opiatesâthat part is hardâI won't lie. I've been holding onto it for a few days and many times I've thought...just one, to take the edge off.
I haven't taken any. It's just a prop, a way to convince Slade how desperate I truly am.
Bodie found out that we had been to see Damien, but not why. He was furious with Marley, for reasons I'm not sure of, but thankfully Marley was able to leave my plan out of whatever explanations she made him.
Once we were sure we could enact the plan with all the necessary components, we called Mac, and I told her everything. My original plan only involved the three of us, but after lengthy discussions, Mac convinced me we needed two more playersâKat and Tamara.
It was hard for âvery veryâto explain everything to Kat. It was a long tearful conversation on my part, but Kat is probably the strongest, most resilient person I know. There was no shock, no judgment, no time needed to process. She just jumped right into my fight.
In that moment, I felt our bond stronger than ever. I felt such love for her and such gratitude for the boy that taught my little sister how to do devious things and keep her cool. I hope this one timeâhe forgives us for leaving him out of the crime.
It was even harder to ask Tamara for help. I had a real fear that she would go straight to Leed with the plan, but I was wrong about her. After I told her everything, she said, "You have been through more horror than any one person should have to suffer. You deserve to be happy more than anyone I know. And I see now, how much Leed loves you. You've become his joy and without you, he's not the person I've always known. He's not the father Ollie needs. I just want my friend and the father of my son to be happy, so I will do whatever it takes to help you both to that happiness. And god knows, Leed is not cut out for this kind of thing you want to do. He would never let you go through with it. But I think you're right, it's the only way."
And just like that...all the frostiness Tam has been putting up since Ollie was born was gone. I don't know exactly what she and Ben and Leed have been through in the weeks I left LA, but whatever has happened, Tamara feels more settled in her heart.
She and Kat have been a shady whirlwind in LA, creating the go-bag of costumes and listening equipment, planning out logistics of the where's and when's and how's for all contingencies, in case Slade did exactly what he's doneâforced my hand.
Yes, I definitely should have known he would push the timeline up. He was at the Grammy's. He saw the kiss.Leed, claiming me in front of millions.
In Slade's mind, that's all of me he wants to allow Leed for the night. He wants to steal Leed's victory.
I have other plans.
I hope.
I blink, trying to see clearly in the darkened world these eyedrops create for me. I tell myself not to focus on the disorientation. Focus on the plan.
It's going to be okay.
It could be worse. Much worse. This can work. All four of my girls are in the exact same place. It should be simple for them to coordinate and act quickly. I'm pretty sure I tipped Mac off that we have to do this tonight.
I have to trust in my girls, now. Mac and Tam are used to hitting the ground running in their careers. They will slide into action. They will find Marley and Kat. They will commandeer a limo. They will follow. Then they will create this deception.
"Are you still with me?" Slade asks smoothly as we head up into the hills.
"Of course," I murmur, turning toward him. With my pupils intentionally reduced by eye drops, it's difficult to see in the darkened vehicle. It's just as well. I saw enough of him in the bright backyard lights at the del Marco's. He looks the sameâstrong, long, face, trendy undercut, immaculate dress. It's hard to believe I once thought him handsome. Now, no matter what expression he wears, I only see the deranged look he was wearing when he cut me.
"How many Vicodin have you had today?"
"Just two," I lie.
"At once?" His lips are tight. He's displeased because he will try to play by his own rules, at least in the beginning, and my contract states that there is no discipline while I'm under the influence of opiates or other drugs.
"No, and the last one hours ago," I assure him. "Before the show, just to take the edge off. I was nervous. But I don't want to get really bad off again. "
"Mmmmm. It's a good thing you called me when you did." He pulls into the garage and walks straight into the house, expecting me to follow obediently.
I'm glad he didn't wait for me. It takes a lot, for me to walk over the threshold and I'm sure it shows in my face.
But there's an even more important reason. Before I exit the car, I hastily fiddle with my necklace, turning the microphone on, and dig in my clutch for the tiny wireless ear piece, turning it on and slipping it deep in my ear canal.
"Marley..." I murmur, holding my breath, praying, pleading...
Her calm voice sounds like she's standing right beside me. I'm here. We are all here, just down the cul-de-sac. We have backup. Marianne and two security guards. Are you okay?
"Yes. I'm going in the house now. Slade's already inside."
Okay. Everything will be fine. Remember the safe word.
"Lion," I murmur and just saying the word conjures Leed's warmth around me and gives me courage.
Right. If I hear you say it, I'm sending the security guards in. Kat and Mac have panic rings, too. We've got this. Go do your thing, girl.
"Yeah."
Slade's place is as cold as he is. Blacks, grays, and blues. The colors of bruises.
He's already looking out the windows in contemplation as I make my way slowlyâreluctantly to his side. He turns to me, inspecting me carefully in my gown.
"You really are a beautiful woman. So...graceful," he fingers a curl, letting his knuckles slide up my bare shoulder. "So...delicate," his hand wraps around my neck, his thumb pressing just firmly enough to make it difficult to swallow.
I put my hand on his wrist, leaning back, putting myself just slightly out of his reach. "This is a business arrangement," I murmur. "And I haven't signed the contact yet."
His mouth smiles, his face makes its insincere attempt to follow. "And smart. And tougher than I once realized." My heart starts to beat wildly as he grabs my the back of my head and forces me closer to him. "You think I don't admire you, but I do. Enough to tell you that I...regret our...last encounter, in Seattle. It was...unacceptable. We will follow the rules this time, yes? You will submit, each and every time I ask. I will care for you and monitor your health. Should you safeword, it will be honored without the...impatience I once showed you. We will have no more...regrettable mishaps."
I meet his eyes. With my dim vision, he looks like a wraith who has me in a deathlock by the hair. Panic crawls from depths I have never experienced, and I can remember each cut, remember how I thought he was going to kill me. Still I never feared then, like I'm afraid now.
I was high with nothing to lose but my wretched existence then. Now, I have a future. I have love. I have Leed.
I fight down the urge to rip myself from his grasp and flee. I have to stay and fight for that future.
"Yes," I murmur.
"Yes, what?" His fingers twist and tug in my hair. My scalp stings. If Leed did that I would like it, but it only feels like ugly domination from Slade's hands. I pretend to smile wickedly at him.
"Yes...sir," I whisper.
He laughs, loosening his grip. "You like these things I do to you. Admit it."
"Some of the things," I agree. But not from your hands, you sick fuck, I add silently.
"Your spirit likes them all, it's just the vestige of your morality that protests occasionally." He releases me and smooths my hair back into place. "Make me a martini, please. You remember how I like them?"
I nod and move away to the kitchen. I fiddle with the large ring I'm wearing. Kat and Mac may have panic rings, but I have a stash ring, with Devil's Breath stored in the secret compartment behind the large moonstone. I smile darkly as I rub the moonstone, feeling like a real witch.
Marley's voice whispers in my ear.
He's being too polite. He may be suspicious of you. He may test your resolve to commit by commanding you drink the alcohol, because he knows you don't like to. Don't put it in his drink.
My dark smile turns to a scowl. I want this over with. I don't want to play this game one more minute with Slade. But Marley is right. The very last thing I want to do is be forced to refuse his drink and make him suspicious. He might not drink it then, and my one chance to drug him will be lost.
I remove the chilled vodka from the cooler and focus on making the martini just how he likes it, with a twist of lemon. When I bring it back to him, he looks at the glass. "You drink it," he orders me.
Marley does really know people. Still, he knows I never drink. It would be out of character for me not to protestâespecially in this situation where we are not in a scene where I have given my submission.
"Alcohol makes my head hurt," I say with eyes downcast.
"But you are recovered, aren't you? All the yoga and the acupuncture? Surely your health is more resilient now than one drink. I need to know you mean to be obedient, Ashlynn. I need you to trust me to take command of your healthâpart of that is knowing your limits."
All bullshit, the things he is saying. He just wants me to hurt, in every way. Physically, emotionally. He wants my head to ache from alcohol, my heart to ache from betraying Leed.
After a long moment of silent reluctance, I take a sip, wincing at the strength of pure vodka and vermouth. It's been years since I had alcohol.
There it is. I guess I just technically compromised my sobriety for this plan. I better make it worth it.
"Keep going."
After I finish two more sips , he relieves me of it and tastes. "Well done," he lifts the glass, meaning both the drink I made and my submission. He gestures for me to sit as he arranges himself casually on the opposite couch.
He speaks easily to me, like we are friends while I grit my teeth and pretend that I'm not nauseous from nerves and revulsion. He asks me to make him another drink, and I'm too afraid he will make me drink again to put the drug in it. But he doesn't make me drink anymore. It was just a test of my will. After what seems like a hour of making small talk with him while he sips, he finally rises and gestures for me. He inspects my eyes.
"You look more sober. How do you feel?"
"I'm not altered anymore."
"What do you want, Ashlynn?"
You'll find out soon enough, Slade. "To sign the contract. To protect Leed. To stay...balanced."
He maneuvers me to a very neat desk at the far side of the large living room. Atop is one printed document, and a pen.
"You will find it all as we discussed. You will stay in residence Sunday afternoon through Monday mornings. You will be on call to me for the remainder of each week through Thursdays at midnight. Fridays and Saturdays are yours. What you do with that time, and what you tell Leed during the times you are required to come to me is your business, but if you expose me I will take his career away. Perhaps the rest of the band's, too. The other specifics are the same as before...but of course you can read over it."
I nod. He stands over me. "May I have more than a moment?" I ask testily.
He grins. "I'm going to like punishing your backtalk very much, Ashlynn." He picks up his glass. "I'm looking forward to it so much, I'll even make my own drink." The bastard winks at me as he swoops up his martini glass and saunters to the kitchen.
Before I even hear the vodka bottle clink upon the cold marble counter, I murmur. "Now. Tell them to hurry." Heart pounding again, I slip out of my heels and race silently to the door, praying the disarm code is the same as it once was.
Thank god. It is.
Kat and Mac slip silently inside and I gesture at their shoes frantically. They take them off, carrying them as I stash them in a large utility closet near the main floor guest suite.
I dash back to the desk, listen as Slade jiggles the martini shaker, scrawl my signature over the bottom of the contract, and hastily shake the contents of my stash ring on top of the paper. I'm working hard to control my breathing as Slade returns. He sits the martini down on the cocktail table, eyeing me.
"Did you sign?" he asks.
I nod.
"Bring it. I need to sign as well."
"Yes, Sir." I grasp the pen, then carefully pick up the contract, holdin it like a platter. He takes the pen and I lift the contract to his view.
And blow the Devil's Breath right into his face.
A white cloud blooms and Slade inhales sharply in surprise, coughing, gasping...and only succeeding in inhaling more as I leap away from getting a faceful myself.
I'm backing away toward the stairs. Slade's face is a mask of fury as he coughs. "What...did...you...do?"
Run! Marley says. The drug takes time. Put a locked door between you. Now!
I race up the stairs, but he catches me at the top, grabbing my arm in a painful squeeze as he continues to breathe heavily. He whirls me around, striking me hard across the face.
I cry out from the shock, trip on the train of my gown and fall over backwards. He towers over me in fury, grappling at my legs as I try to back away.
Ashlynn! Are you okay? Marley's voice is calm but concerned.
I grip my face to stem the pain. It's mostly numb with just an edge of pain, but it's not the first time I've been struck. Not by a long shot.
"Yes," I murmur.
Slade doesn't hear me. He's raging. "You bitch! What was that? Anthrax? You're trying to kill me?"
"Not anthrax. I don't murder people," I hiss.
He stops at that, his look is almost curious. Then it darkens as he grasps me by both arms and yanks me to my feet. His grip is fierce and I can't help myself, I make a gasping cry.
Again Marley asks me if I'm okay. This time I don't answer, because all of Slade's attention is focused on me, and my sister and my closest friend are in this house and they will be in danger if Slade suspects I am not alone.
He forces me into the playroom and slams me against the free-standing St. Andrews' Cross, forcing my right arm to the upper X's, stumbling slightly against me as we grapple. I'm trying to force him away, fighting to rip my arm from his grasp, ferociously trying to claw at his face with my one free hand.
I won't!
No, no, no!
I won't take any more pain from him.
No matter how I try to slap and claw, he ignores the small injuries I'm inflicting to his face and neck. He's moving slowly but I can't tell if it's just his deliberate nature or the drug taking effect. He manages to get my right hand bound, tightening the restraint far beyond comfort. I try to kick him in the crotch, but he presses himself against me, immobilizing me with his weight, gripping my jaw so hard I'm sure he's going to tear it from my skull. I whimper in pain.
"You fucking whore! What was that powder?"
Marley in my ear again. Ashlynn! Ashlynn! Talk to me!
I'm panicking. My heart is exploding, my lungs are collapsing, my brain is firing with splashes of red.
Ashlynn! Ashlynn! Do you need help? Ashlynn!
It's on the tip of my tongue to say the safe word. But at the thought of the word lion, Leed fills my presence again. If I fail right now, I cost him everything he's worked so hard for.
I won't do that.
"I'm okay. I'm okay," I say quickly.
"You're not okay," Slade growls, but he lets go of my jaw and stumbles backwards, his expression disconnected. "You're...you're..."
"I'm okay," I repeat. He stares at me, rage evaporating, confusion taking hold as the effects of the drug quickly take hold.
"You're okay," I try tentatively.
"I'm okay," he repeats, leaning his hand on the wall. He looks at the floor.
"Yes," I encourage him, as I frantically work to free my hand from the restraint.
"Yes." He parrots.
"We're okay."
"We're okay."
I step the behind the cross, watching him. He seems to be struggling with his balance. He sways for a long moment, then slides down the wall, to his knees.
Ashlynn!
"It's working," I whisper. "I'm okay. It's working."
Slade doesn't hear me. We stay on opposite sides of the room for what seems like an eternity, me shaking, hiding behind the cross, Slade on his knees, one hand on the wall.
This won't do. I can't cower in fear. I know how this worksâhow it's supposed to work.
In order to command him, he has to trust me.
It takes more courage than I ever thought I possessed to cross the room to him.
I take his chin in my hand and force his eyes up to mine.
"You're okay, I won't hurt you," I tell him.
He's silent, his gaze wide, softer than I've ever seen.
"Do you know me?"
He nods solemnly. "You're Ashlynn. You're...so...beautiful. And good."
I let go of his chin and step back. "If you think that, why did you want to hurt me?"
He looks down at the floor. "I didn't mean to really hurt you. I...just...couldn't help it sometimes." He touches his head. "You know what that's like. Not being able to control your brain. It's why I chose you. I thought...I thought you could understand me better."
I curse softly under my breath.
Ashlynn...he's very ill. Psychoactive drugs are always unpredictable. We can't be sure how he will continue to react.
"I know," I say softly.
I back away from him, and pace around the room while he stays on his knees.
I thought this would be different than it is. I thought I would enjoy the power over him that the drug gave me. I thought maybe even...I would exact vengeance for what he did to me. But now, that the Devil's Breath is coercing honest from Slade,I don't feel the desire for revenge. I feel revulsion for him, but it's just a greasy layer on top of an ocean of confusion and pity.
I must have been pacing for a while, because Marley says, We don't how long we have, Ashlynn.
"Right." I stare at the man who attacked me with a knife, slumped on his knees. I summon more than courage. I summon conviction and return to him.
"Viggo," I say softly and he looks at me, his face like a scared child.
"What's wrong with me? What did you do?"
"You scare me. I gave you a drug that makes you...more gentle, so you couldn't hurt me anymore."
He nods. "That's good. For you. But I don't like it."
"No, I don't imagine you do." I say softly. "I want to talk with you some more, but I don't trust you."
"No. I don't imagine you do," he repeats and laughs. But not the cynical laugh I'm used to. It's almost a hysterical sob.
"Viggo...you like the cross, don't you?" I ask him, turning his gaze to it.
His look hazes with lust. "Yes."
"Go stand against it."
His gaze swings slowly to me. He shakes his head. "No. That's...that's...what you do."
"This time, it's what you do." I tell him. He stares at the cross but makes no move.
I didn't plan on this, but suddenly I know what I have to do. What will get him where I need him. What will get me where I need to be, too.
I lean down and whisper in his ear. "Go stand against the cross and let me bind you to it, and I'll take my dress off."
In my ear, I hear Marley's swift intake of breath, but she says nothing.
His mouth swings to catch mine, but I back away quickly.
"No," I tell him firmly. "You're not pleasing me. You're not doing what I ask."
"I'm sorry," he looks sad, and I have the sudden feeling that he tried very hard as a child, to please his mother. He nods woodenly and climbs clumsily to his feet, lumbering over to the cross. He sighs heavily, but he raises his wrists to the restraints.
I'm numb with fear but I don't let it stop me. I cross to him and quickly bind his arms and legs, while he stands passively. Once that's done, I go to a chest and find a chain restraint, wrapping in a cross pattern over his torso, between and around his legs, anchoring him solidly.
"Where did you learn to do that?" he asks through his haze. "I never chained you like this."
"Your friend Wilson," I say acerbically.
He makes a grunt of agreement. He twists his body, thrashing a little against the chains. "I don't like it."
"I know, but you have to trust me," I tell him.
"Why should I trust you?" his words aren't resentful, they're...earnest. Even as sick as he is, he knows trust is a two way street. And he knows he's hurt me.
"Maybe you shouldn't, but you can," I tell him. "I won't hurt you." Even though part of me wants to.
"You are a good person, Ashlynn."
"I'm going away for a minute," I tell him.
"Don't leave me," he whimpers.
"I'll be back. This is your own playroom, you'll be safe here," I remind him.
He swallows heavily, but nods.
I don't make it five feet out the door but I collapse against the wall, holding a hand over my mouth to silence sobs. Even though I try to stop them, Marley can hear me.
Ashlynn. Ashlynn!
"I'm okay. He's altered, compliant and bound to his own cross. He can't get away."
Okay, good. You don't have long, but you can take a moment to calm down. You're safe. You're in control of this situation now. You decide how this goes. Remember your plan. You're doing so well. Don't...get distracted.
"I know. I'm not going to torture him."
I wouldn't blame you if you did. But you might regret it.
She's not wrong. There's a part of me that wants to hurt him like he hurt me, but it's just a scared part. And I'm done being afraid of this pathetic bastard. He won't make me afraid of losing my own humanity.
I rise and hurry down the stairs, flinging open the closet and launching at my sister.
"Are you okay?" Kat whispers.
I nod. "Yes. He's chained up and the Devil's Breath is working. He can't get free."
"Are you sure?" Mac's got her killer face on.
"Yeah. It's making him tell the truth. He knows he's sick." I turn my back to Mac. "Here, help me..."
Mac's doesn't ask why. She understands. Her fingers work the intricate buttons on the back of my dress quickly.
Kat's eyes widen. "What in the hell are you doing?" she hisses. "This is too far."
"I have to. I need him to see. I need to know what he feels about it."
When I return to the play room, Slade's head pops up from where it was hanging. His breath is jagged as he watches me slink toward him in his black robe. His eyes are hooded and his mouth hangs open.
"Take it off," he says.
I laugh haughtily. "Try again."
He looks to the ceiling like he's trying to orient himself. Finally he swings his head to the floor and says, "I'm sorry, Mistress."
I'm shocked, and at the same time it's exactly what I was hoping for, exactly what I planned. He's forgotten that I drugged him. He's lost in the scene and the drug is making him compliant. Beyond compliant. It's making him what he truly isâlost, weak, desperate for someone to care for him.
Again, pity wars with my revulsion for this ruined man, and I know there is no turning back. For me, for Megan, for him. He needs this as much as Megan and I do. Otherwise, he will keep lying to himself and keep hurting women.
"That's very good, Viggo. I'm glad to see you understand who has the power here."
"You do, Mistress. Thank you for coming back. I was afraid you would leave me here."
"I told you I would come back. I told you I would take off my dress, didn't I?"
He nods slowly and he looks at the wall, where his Dom tools hang. "Are you going to discipline me?" he asks.
"In my own way," I murmur and I slide off the robe. I'm wearing a black lace underwear set, garters, and the one thing I always wearâthe nearly two foot long word WHORE cut jaggedly into my flesh.
His eyes widen as they trace the scar. He looks away quickly.
"Look at me," I command him. He looks at my face.
"Look at my scar."
He shakes his head. "I don't want to."
"Why not?"
He swallows heavily and closes his eyes. "It was...a...mistake."
I reach out and grab his face roughly. His eyes fly open wide. "It was not a mistake, a mishap, or an accident. You attacked me. You hurt me. I begged you to stop. I safe worded. I screamed. You held me down and cut me with a knife."
He's pouring sweat, and straining against his bindings. He wants to flee this situation, flee this truth about himself.
"Do you know what you did to me, Slade? Do you know what you are?"
The Devil's Breath won't let him escape his truth. "I know. I hurt you. I hated it at the same time I...I...I liked it. I'm sorry."
"Sorry? You're sorry? You think that means anything?"
"No, but...I...stopped, with you. I didn't..." his breath is coming in heavy hitches now, and he presses his mouth closed, like he's trying to stop his truth.
"You didn't what?"
He closes his eyes, shakes his head frantically. Sweat slings on me and I step back, wiping his desperation from me with the robe.
Marley's voice is in my ear, and I know Kat and Mac are listening, too. It's time. Kat...go up the stairs and listen at the door. When Ash says the code word, go into the room.
I cross to the wall and pick up a riding crop, because I don't want to touch him again. I use it to tap his cheek, gain his attention.
"You didn't what, Viggo?"
"I...I...didn't...push." He whispers hoarsely. "It's so easy to push."
"Push what?" I demand, but already my stomach is flipping over because I know what answer he will give.
"The knife. It goes in...easy. Too easy. I didn't push the knife in you. I stopped on the skin."
The world stops, just like it must have for Megan, when he drove a knife into her and drained her life away. It doesn't even seem possible that I'm still upright at this point, but I drop the riding crop to his chin forcing him to look up at me.
"Oh, Viggo. Tell me...are your nightmares filled with butterflies?"
He lets out a small gasp, and I know I'm not far off. The butterfly necklace he kept is the way he scourges himself for killing her.
I hear the floor creek behind me and I know that Kat heard me say the code word, and has crept into the room.
I keep my eyes on this pathetic, ruined man but he's staring over my shoulder, his eyes wide and his mouth an perfect O of horror.
"Go away," he tells 'Megan.' He blinks, shaking his head, sweat slinging again. When he opens his eyes, he lets out a whimper of fear. "Go away. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I tried to save you. I'm sorry. Please. Go away."
I slip around the cross, so that I can see what he sees. 'Megan' is barefoot, dirt smudged, pale as death, standing eerily still, her head slightly cocked, her gaze cold. She looks ghostly and truly terrifying, even to me.
Make him acknowledge her name and her relationship to Varrick, Marley coaxes in my ear. She needs to be a real person to him again.
"Who is she, Viggo?"
"Megan."
"Who is she to you?"
"No one. But Varrick loved her. He didn't see...he was young. He didn't know what women do to you, if you love them. She was going to hurt him. All women hurt you, if you love them. I...I just wanted to scare her. Into leaving him. I was protecting him. But she...she fought me...and the knife...it pushes in too easy," he whispers. "I didn't mean to. Go away, please. Leave me alone. I swear I didn't mean to."
I grip the cross and boost up on my tip-toes to whisper in Slade's ear. "She can't go away. She can't rest. She's lost and she needs to be found. I want to help you, Viggo. Tell me where she is, and I will tell her to go away."
"I don't know where she is," he says. "I don't know."
He knows more than he's saying. Press him, Marley says in my ear.
"Yes, you do," I coax. "You know where her body is, don't you?"
"No."
Behind his head, I give Kat the chin tip and she starts to creep closer, moving so slowly, so gracefully, that she looks like she's floating. At the same time, her stare of detachment and cocked head are unnatural and horrifying.
Viggo jerks violently against his restraints. "I don't know. I swear!" he's crying, pleading with Megan. "I don't know what they did with you. I swear. You know...I was sorry. You know I tried to save you. I took you for help, but they couldn't help. I'm sorry. They couldn't help. It was too late. I'm sorry! Oh god, go away, please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I don't know what they did with you! I swear! Please!" He's thrashing against the cross with all his might, trying to flee the advancing ghost.
I hold up a hand to Kat and she stops. "Who's they, Viggo? Who did you take Megan to?"
"The embassy! The doctors, the staff, at the embassy! They tried to save you," he tells Kat. "You were already too far gone. They tried and tried to save you. I don't know...I don't know," he moans. "I swear, I don't know where you are now. They took care of you. They said...they would take care of you. My father...the Ambassador there...they took care of everything. There...there was a priest. He gave you rights, I swear..." Viggo beats his head and the cross and cries.
Oh, Jesus, Marley whispers in my ear. It was a cover-up.
I back away from the cross, hands covering my mouth, for fear I might cry to. Shock is warring with relief and then being washed over with outrage. Viggo did kill Megan. But he tried to save her. She didn't die alone. She died in the German embassy and they covered up her murder.
In all of my plans, the night never ended like this...with answers that make all our efforts hollow. A diplomatic cover-up? I still may never be able to give Laurie Davis what she needsâjustice for her daughter.
I don't know what happens next, but I know I've gotten what I came forâthe truth. Megan is dead and her remains are not lost in the wilds of Costa Rica. If they gave her religious rights, I'm willing to bet the priest oversaw her burial. Someone somewhere knows exactly how and where her remains were laid to rest. I have to talk to Varrick as soon as possible.
We're done here.
Kat is still impressively haunting and Viggo is still crying.
"Thank you, Viggo, for telling the truth. I'll ask Megan to go now."
I walk toward Kat and say. "Please, you're scaring...even...me." She gives me the tiniest smirk but swivels before Viggo sees and glides silently out of the door.
That's it. That's all we are going to get from him. I'm pulling Mac and Kat out now. Get your dress and follow them. Hopefully you can convince Varrick to wipe any security footage. Maybe we can leave no trace, Marley's voice rumbles in my ear.
I move to follow her instructions but I hesitate as Viggo calls to me. "Ashlynn. Mistress...please. Don't leave me. She will kill me. You know she will. I deserve it, but...please...you can't leave me...like this."
I pick up the robe off the floor and cover myself before I turn to face him. "What am I supposed to do, Viggo? You killed a woman. I can't trust you. I can't untie you. I'm going. I'll...I'll send someone for you."
"Please, please, please," he cries like a child. "I'm scared. Don't leave me."
He is drugged and truly terrified, as he should be. If Megan were actually haunting him, she would have every right to exact her vengeance.
I consider. He's still under the effects of the drug. He's terrified, but compliant. It would be smarter to release him and command him to bed. Devil's Breath has one more important side effectâit's a temporary amnesia. They call it the zombie drug, in South America. People who are victimized with it wake without remembering a thing about what happened to them. If Viggo wakes from his drug haze bound to his own cross, he will know what I did to him. If he wakes in his own bed with lost time, he might have suspicions but he won't know what happened. Maybe I can convince him I submitted to him and then he blacked out from victory drinking. Keeping Viggo's trust might give us more options, more time for Varrick to figure out what to do with the information I've uncovered.
With a jagged breath, I nod slowly. "Alright. I will untie you."
No! Don't do it, Ashlynn.
I ignore Marley's frantic protests in my ear. I pull the earpiece from my ear and put it in the pocket of my robe.
"I will untie you and you will go to your bedroom while I make sure Megan is gone from your house for good, alright? You'll wait in your bedroom, so that you don't upset her anymore, do you understand? But if you disobey me, I will let Megan punish you."
"Yes, Mistress."
I quickly unwrap the chain and undo his cuffs. Viggo sinks to his knees in front of me, but I step out of his grasp.
He reaches up a shaking hand. "Help me."
"No," I say softly backing through the door. Kat is downstairs and I gesture for her to leave. She shakes her head but I point emphatically to the front door. She stomps her foot silently. I stab my finger again and she glares at me but disappears into the front foyer.
Viggo is calling out to me. "Ashlynn...I can't...stand...help me..."
"If you can't walk, then crawl."
He does as I command him. He crawls from the playroom to the massive master next door and climbs up on his bed.
"Stay," he begs me. "I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you again. You saved me. You are not like her. My mother. You look like her, but you're not like her. You saved me even when I was bad. I...I need you. Please...stay."
I take pity on him. "I'm just going to check that Megan is gone, okay? I can't go to sleep until I know she is gone and we are safe." I'm lying, but perhaps the lie will help him relax enough to drift off.
The room is dark but I can see his face from the light flowing in behind me. He looks...grateful. "Thank you. I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean anything. But I'm sorry. I just get scared. And when I get scared, I can't...I can't control it."
The sickness inside him, he means.
"Alright, Viggo." I say, because what else can I say? He knows he's sick and he's right...sorry doesn't mean anything. He needs to be put away, somewhere he's safe...from himself and from his fears that make him a danger to others. The worst part of all of this is...I have a sinking feeling that's not going to happen. I'm betting the German diplomatic influence will make justice for Megan impossible. I have an awful feeling that tomorrow I'm going to be in even more desperate circumstances, coping with Viggo's amnesia and possible suspicions about his missing time but his continued hold over Leed's career.
I shut his door firmly, wishing I could lock him in but unable to do so. I need to get out of here, before the drug wears off. I skate down the stairs and race to grab my dressâI'm not planning to waste the time to put it back onâwhen I hear a harsh, "Ashlynn" whispered from down the hall.
It's Mac. Why is she still in the house?
I follow the voice to Viggo's office. Mac is hunched over a laptop, clicking frantically with the mouse. She gives me a brilliant smile. "I found them."
"What?"
She rolls her eyes at me and then her eyes focus on the screen. I cringe to hear myself moaning. "Your videos. Jesus. I am never calling you Pollyanna again."
"Oh my god, are you watching them?"
She gives me an exasperated look. "Well, I had to check the files to find them, now didn't I?" She's focused on the screen again. "There's dozens. I'm trying to check all the folders to make sure I delete them all..."
"Hurry," I race around the desk to help her. If by some miracle we could erase them all, then the night won't be a total loss. It would probably tip Viggo off that his black-out was not just a drunk pass out and that I double-crossed him, but for this...it would be worth it. We would remove the main image-tarnishing weapon that he's planning to use against Leed.
We manage to erase all my videos in his directories.
"Do you think he has back-ups?"
"Probably."
After a few frantic minutes of trying to access Viggo's cloud storage, I shake my head. "We aren't going to figure out his password. Maybe Varrick can help. We need to get out of here."
Mac growls but she nods. I lead Mac silently down the hall into the foyer.
Viggo is swaying blearily between me and the door.
"Ashlynn...please...don't go..." he begins, but then his gaze latches onto Mac and his entire body stiffens.
His face. Confusion twists to fear, then rage.
"Fuck," Mac whispers, looking down at her clothes, remembering who she is supposed to be.
"Lion," I whisper into my microphone necklace at the same time Viggo says,"Mama."
My voice is shaking, his voice is steel.
Like a viper, he lunges for Mac, pushing her against the wall. He grabs her by the throat. She's gasping, her eyes are wide. He's ranting. "What are you doing here? How did you get out of Bethel? You aren't supposed to be here. Ever."
"Viggo, let her go! Now!"
He's no longer operating under a confused compliance. He's commanded by fear and adrenaline. "You don't know her. She's crazy. She tried to kill me. I won't let her hurt you." He squeezes her throat. I see Mac's hands frantically grappling at him and then at her pocket. She's pulling a gun.
Why does she have a gun?
Viggo is so enraged and focused on choking the life out of her, he doesn't see her put the gun to his leg. Her hand wavers, but Viggo is still ranting at her and squeezing her throat. She slides the gun to poke his gut.
A million things run through my mind but the foremost is...I can't let Mac be responsible for shooting him. She's been through enough trauma. I can't let her take on more.
I'm not sure how but my feet push me toward the foyer table, and before Mac is able to squeeze the trigger, I grab the leaded crystal vase and swing it at Viggo's head like a baseball bat, knocking him sideways off Mac. She's sliding down the wall, gasping for breath. I'm crawling over Viggo's slack body trying to reach her and get her on her feet so we can run, but at that moment all hell breaks loose.
The door bursts open and the room and curses all involving multiple uses of the word fuck richochet around the large foyer.
Oh, I sigh with relief. The rock stars are here.
Leed takes the straightest line to where Mac and I are, vaulting onto and sliding over the foyer table, falling impressively onto his knees beside us. He looks crazed and utterly helplessâhis face draining of all color as he stares between us, not knowing which one to comfort.
Mac is crying silently now, crawling up into arms and he automatically pulls her to him. "It's okay, baby girl, I got you. Breathe in. Slow. One. Two. Three." He's talking to her, but his eyes are roaming every inch of me, looking for injury.
"I'm okay." I say softly. I'm surprised to realize that I am. I'm not falling to pieces. My heart is racing, my pulse is pounding in my head, but I'm not breaking down. Mac's PTSD has been triggered and she obviously needs him more. "I'm okay." I repeat to Leed, so that he knows that Mac is the one that needs him.
His eyes snap to mine, they are not the normal bright green pools of emotion. They are black with...fear? Rage?
He's still coaxing Mac's breath, but he's pulling her to her feet and backing away. He barely pauses in his counting to say to me, "Good. Stay that way. Get the fuck away from him."
I back away from Viggo who is moaning on the floor just as Trace pulls me into a bone-crushing hug. "You fucking idiot," he hisses at me. "Jesus Christ, Ashlynn, I'm so fucking pissed at you right now!" He's shaking with anger, but he won't stop hugging me or dragging me away across the foyer.
"I'm okay. Help Mac." I try to turn in Trace's arms and that's when I see Viggo pulling himself to his hands and knees, shaking his head like a bear coming out of hibernation. There are four or five more people rushing forward toward himâa couple of guys that must be security, and Dev and Matt, too.
Varrick is standing in the door his eyes moving rapidly over the scene.
"Take cover!" he bellows. "He has a gun!"
My gaze locks on Viggo and to my horror, I realize Varrick is right. Mac must have dropped her gun as she and Viggo fell, because now, he has it and he's swinging around, preparing to use it on the four men flying toward him.
A rapid succession of shots ring out and I scream in surprise and fear as Trace pushes me against the wall.
The two security guards were already launching toward Viggo and they manage to dive out of the line of wild fire. Dev leaps over Matt knocking him to the ground. Varrick strides straight through it fearlessly, strikes a nose blow to Viggo and kicks the gun from his hand. "Secure the weapon," he barks at one of the guards as he flips Viggo on his chest and secures his hands behind his back with ruthless ferocity.
Everything happened so fast. Only when Trace lets out a roar and releases me do I understand that someone was hit.
He's tearing Dev off Matt, who is lying on his front, unmoving. There's a surprising amount of bright red blood smeared on the light floor around him, but Matt's jacket is black so it's hard to see the gunshot wound.
"No, no, no!" Trace is ripping off Matt's jacket and jerking him over on his front. Matt looks a little stunned as Trace manhandles him but then he grabs Trace by the collars. "I'm okay. Son, hey! I'm okay. Just hit my head is all."
"He's...fine...as...wine," Dev gasps, sitting up, holding his gut, where red is seeping rapidly through his white tuxedo shirt. "Speaking of...alcohol...can I get a spot? Fuck me...I'm not dying sober."
So, the good but sad news is, we now know what happened to Megan. At least she did not die alone with a monster but with people trying to help her. I hope her mother can take some comfort in that.
Poor Dev!!! I hope he's going to be alright!!! Do you think there's going to any...unforeseen consequences or fall-out to Dev getting shot?