Dark Rapture_A Disturbing Psychological Thriller

by Logan Fox

  Tanner cried out, crushing her to him as he doubled over. She writhed free, jamming her elbow into his stomach before scrambling away on all fours.

  A sob caught in her throat, mangling another call for help. Tanner caught her ankle, dragged her back, closed his other hand around her calf. She kicked back, feeling her heel land on something soft and fleshy. Another ferocious yell from Tanner.

  And then a pair of charcoal pants blocked her way. Pearl fell back, tears blurring the tall shadow in front of her. Her hand found the edge of the counter. She hauled herself up, trying to force words past the relieved sob tearing through her throat. A furious blink cleared her vision.

  Malik stared down at her with narrowed eyes, his mouth a straight, grim line. Those golden eyes shifted past her, settling on Tanner. Rising. Pearl swung around, tumbling backward as Tanner got to his feet and took a step closer.

  Pearl’s shoulder crashed into Malik. The man took hold of her arms, moving her to the side with a firm, gentle grip.

  “Tanner?” Malik’s carefully enunciated words seemed to fill the entire kitchen. “You’re bleeding.”

  Pearl forced a hard swallow, wrapping her arms around herself.

  Tanner drew himself up. His lip was split, a steady stream of blood pouring over his chin and dripping onto his previously pristine shirt. His tongue touched warily to the injury, his lips twitching with pain when it found the gouge. Was that where she’d kicked him?

  “I’ll live.” Tanner touched the side of his head. “But I might have a concussion.”

  A gasp behind Pearl. She twisted, blinking at Ivy. The girl had a sheet around her, her brown curls mussed. Her face went pale, her mouth falling open as her eyes found Tanner.

  “He—” Pearl forced back another sob. “He tried to—”

  Malik drew her away. Her feet tangled under her, but he kept her upright until she was clear of the kitchen. She hadn’t even noticed until now, but he wore only his shirt and pants — his jacket gone and the buttons on his shirt not matching their holes.

  “Pearl,” Ivy whispered. She stepped back, craning to see around Malik. “What did you do?”

  “He—” Fuck it, she couldn’t get more than two words past her contorting lungs. Her entire body vibrated with the aftershock of adrenalin. Her skin pulsed hot and cold, her lips tingling angrily as if still furious over that stolen kiss.

  “All good, baby girl.” Tanner’s voice sounded pained though, too tight… too controlled. “Just a misunderstanding.”

  Malik released Pearl then. He turned away from her and Ivy, stepping into the kitchen.

  “May I get you some ice?” he asked Tanner.

  Pearl stumbled away, her hands slamming into the hallway’s wall as her feet buckled under. She struggled with the clasps of her stilettos, tugging the shoes off her feet and tossing them aside. She had to get out of here, had to get—

  “Pearl? Where are you going? Pearl?”

  She found her way to the front door, tugged on the handle. No surprise: it didn’t open. She slammed her fist into the wood, spinning around and facing Ivy with a grimace.

  “Let me out.” Her voice was a shaking, hoarse thing.

  “Me?” Ivy touched fingertips to her collarbone. “How the hell am—”

  Pearl gave her head a shake. She pushed past Ivy, shoving the girl hard enough to send her into the wall.

  “Fuck, Pearl!”

  Pearl ignored her, ignored the tears streaming down her face, the soft, choking sounds she was making as she tried to suppress the sobs threatening to overwhelm her.

  Out.

  She had to get out.

  Out of here. Out of the Fox Pit.

  A trickle of memory eased through her panic. She veered, hearing the men talking in low voices in the kitchen. Her heart raced for a second, her mind playing her a pantomime of Tanner crashing out into the hallway, those hands finding their way around her throat again.

  Squeezing… urging the life from her body.

  Pearl’s hands fumbled, struggling with the door handle. Tanner’s bedroom was clean now, tidied up. Everything except his bed. The covers were creased and mounded, the pillows scattered. A charcoal pinstripe suit jacket lay discarded on the right-hand side corner, a French maid’s outfit on the floor.

  Her gaze swept over this without settling.

  Instead, it fixed on the balcony door.

  Rain soaked her in an instant. The drizzle of before had transformed into a downpour. The hissing raindrops blocked out all sound except the howling wind. It drove sharp splinters against her exposed skin — which, in the maid’s outfit, was plenty — and made her hunch her shoulders in an effort to ward it off.

  With a hand cupping her eyes, Pearl staggered to the middle of the balcony.

  Why yellow?

  I like it.

  And the foxes?

  I like them. Any more questions?

  You like them enough to have us all dress up in tails and ears?

  Have you ever owned your own company, Pearl? If you want to be a success, you have to define a unique selling proposition for your company. Something that sets you apart from the rest.

  So, better hookers?

  Better hookers. Better experiences. Utter discretion. But, above all, something unique. Something you won’t get anywhere else.

  Pearl shook away the memory. Her sobs were coming freely now; tearing through her in violent gales that shook her shoulders and twisted her lips. Tears and rain blurred everything into smudges of green and grey.

  Her hands closed over the railing.

  Have to get out.

  Have to get away.

  She knocked her ankle against the railing as she tried to throw her leg over it. Her fingers were numb, her legs shook, her arms trembled. The rain was ice cold; it drove wave upon wave of shivers through her. As if trying to keep her back, to keep her contained within that flowing, organic pit of hell.

  “Pearl! What the fuck?” Ivy’s voice cut through the rain. Pearl got her leg over, turning to face the girl as she swung her second leg over the railing.

  Her curls were slicked against her head. Rain had turned her sheet transparent; her nipples were large, brown circles. She dragged a hand over her face, wiping subdued curls from her face.

  “Get back!” she yelled. “You can’t—”

  “I’m getting out!” Pearl shouted back. “Leaving.” Pearl shook her head. “I’m done.” She lifted a hand, waving frantically at the Fox Pit looming behind Ivy. “This place…” she swallowed down a sob. “I’m done.”

  The last was little more than a whisper.

  Ivy ran forward. Pearl twisted around, staring at the ground. It was a very long way down. Three stories, maybe more. The rooms below all had vaulted ceilings — maybe four stories then. Beneath her stretched a glittering, coruscating river.

  But it was less than an inch deep - runoff spewed out by gutters, scouring the bleak pavement beneath.

  She’d never survive it, would she?

  Pearl glanced over her shoulder. Ivy opened her mouth to shout out. Surprise flashed over her face, and then the girl was falling forward.

  Her sheet tangled around her legs. Pearl heard the girl’s yell as she crashed to her knees and slid over the balcony’s tiles. The sheet came loose, exposing most of Ivy’s naked back to the tearing rain.

  Pearl looked down again. Her hands tightened around the railings. Rain bored into her cheeks and forehead; it pounded her arms and leg as if encouraging her down… down to that slick, hard pavement where the water glittered and beckoned.

  Just let go.

  Then… nothing.

  Except pain. Sharp, blinding pain. But brief. A flash of agony and then… nothing.

  Right?

  Right?

  Her fingers opened. For a moment, a gust of wind buffeted against her, keeping her upright. Then gravity snatched her.

  Pain around her wrist. Her body lurched. She swung in a wide arc.

  Her body sl
ammed into the wall of the Fox Pit — those smooth, organic curves sloughing away the skin on her knees.

  Air left her in a pained scream. She rebounded, slammed into the wall again.

  Someone held her wrist.

  Good God, but it hurt. She felt as if her tendons were snapping apart, one by one. Iridescent slivers of agony lashed up her arm.

  More pain — she was being hauled up.

  Those glitters she’d seen on the Fox Pit’s walls — they were tiny crystals. Like beach sand. Rough, biting, chewing into her skin as someone hauled her up… up… over.

  Her body skidded over slick tiles. Her leg slid between someone else’s, becoming trapped.

  Rain belted over the back of her thighs and head; her neck. Hands swiped furiously at her face.

  “—hear me? Pearl? Pearl, can you hear me?”

  That voice… so familiar. Like the voice you expected to hear on the other end of the line when you phoned your friend.

  Urgent, whispering in her ear. “Say something, kitten. Tell me you’re okay.”

  Pearl forced her eyes open. Too much rain. Too many tears. Everything was a smudge of flesh and tiles. Black eyes like ink blots on wet paper.

  Seth.

  He was hugging her now, squeezing the life from her. Like Tanner had. Like Tanner had tried to.

  Pearl screamed. She yelled and kicked and writhed and bucked and bit until those arms released her. Then she scrambled up, swinging around, disorientated.

  A handful of blurred shapes — silhouettes of people — spun around her like a demented carousel. Who were they? Where had they all come from?

  Arms slid around her. She yelled, tried to kick. Hands grabbed her ankles. The world dipped, gravity changing its grip on her. They had her pinned now, her back on the balcony’s floor, her arms against her body, her legs tight together. Voices, so many, crashing like waves above her. Everyone yelling over the angry wind and whipping rain.

  “—fuck happened? She was—”

  “—just pushed—”

  “—think I don’t fucking know—”

  “—how could—”

  Pearl squeezed her eyes shut, her hands curling into tight fists. She forced back the undulating swells of panic and terror threatening to capsize her. With a sigh, she relaxed her shoulders. Forced them to relax. She opened her fingers, twisting them in her captor’s grip so her palms faced upward. Rain bit into her palms.

  Her teeth began to chatter. The sound rattled inside her head — furious, tribal drums echoed by the soughing rain. The wind… a tempestuous baritone.

  “Her lips are blue.” A softer voice; Ivy?

  “Inside.” Seth.

  “Why didn’t you let her jump?”

  Pearl stiffened. Her eyes flashed open, staring straight into Tanner’s. The man crouched beside her.

  His sandy hair was drenched, laying dark and flat against his scalp. Water shimmered over his cheek. Some of it was pink — tainted by blood leaking from the blow to his head. His lip had puffed out, the cut through that tender flesh purple and angry.

  “She seems adamant about wanting out.” He smiled down at her, wincing slightly. “Next time, give her what she wants.”

  The man blurred as he straightened to his feet. Seth scooped Pearl from the floor, her world dissolving into more rain-streaked blurs as he turned and headed for the Fox Pit.

  Pearl’s head lolled over his arm. Rain stung at her eyes. She turned away, glancing behind her at that brief moment of freedom — at her dwindling escape route.

  At Tanner, who stood with his hands in his pockets, rain slamming into him as his tongue explored the gouge on his lip.

  “I don’t get it,” Seth muttered. His hands worked tirelessly to rub dry her hair.

  Pearl’s head bobbed; she didn’t have enough strength to keep her neck stiff.

  “You seemed fine,” he said. “Was it—” those hands paused. Seth gripped her chin, twisting her face to him. His black eyes narrowed, brows almost touching. “Was it because of me? Because we fucked? I know I didn’t imagine it, kitten. You came on to me. I didn’t—”

  Pearl lifted her hand and laid it against Seth’s cheek. His skin scorched her palm — the rain had almost frozen her, her excuse for clothing giving little protection against the torrential downpour on Tanner’s balcony.

  “You didn’t imagine it,” she said. Her words sounded thick and strained; her wooden tongue was having difficulty producing the right sounds.

  Seth leaned into her cupped hand for a moment before working at her hair with the towel again.

  “So what happened? Someone said you gave Tanner a concussion. And I saw his lip. Was that you? Why? Why’d you do that, kitten?”

  Pearl dropped her gaze to her lap. Her hands, too. She meshed her fingers together and worked them in her lap.

  “He thought I was someone else,” she whispered.

  Seth’s hands slowed. He’d already dried the rest of her — she wore a pale yellow robe and slippers. The only trace remaining of the rain was her damp hair.

  “Who?”

  “Don’t know. Same eyes, he said.”

  “I don’t know anyone—” Seth began.

  “He was angry. Not with me; with her. Whoever she was. So angry. But… happy, too. Like… relieved.”

  She was so tired. Her limbs ached from the residual cold throbbing through her. She felt like she’d run a triathlon in the nude. Somewhere with icy, oceanic waters, choppy waves, and scouring sand. Her knees stung, and her arm too.

  “Doesn’t make sense.” Seth draped the towel around her shoulders. “None of this makes sense.”

  Her handler let out a massive sigh, rubbing at his eyes with one hand — thumb and forefinger — while the other squeezed her shoulder.

  “Do I have a scene today?”

  Seth drew his hands away. “No. But… I’m pretty sure Caden’s going to want to see you.”

  Pearl shrugged. “Okay. Can I sleep now?”

  Seth inhaled deeply. The hand on her shoulder squeezed her again.

  “You should try and get out.”

  “Out?” The word sounded nice. So short. Succinct.

  Out.

  “Tonight. If Caden’s asks to see you. You tell him what you told me. About Tanner. Tell him you don’t feel safe here. Maybe… maybe they’ll let you go.”

  “Let me go…” Pearl repeated slowly. “Yes. I want to go.”

  Seth got to his feet, tugging her up with him. “Can you stand?”

  “Sure.” Pearl straightened her legs. They protested, but didn’t buckle.

  Seth led her to her room. Gia wasn’t there — none of the girls were anywhere in sight — so the room was quiet and dark. He only put on a handful of lights; enough so they wouldn’t bump into anything as they maneuvered through the room. Pearl tugged free her robe and dropped it on the floor.

  He pulled aside her covers — the ghosts had been around to clean again — and Pearl slid inside with a sigh.

  Even though the sheets were cool, their embrace was deliciously comforting. She turned onto her side, drawing into a ball and hugging her knees.

  “I’ll be back for—”

  “Stay,” Pearl whispered.

  There was no response. Had he heard her? She wouldn’t ask him again, if he hadn’t. But if he’d heard—

  “I…” Seth cleared his throat. “I need to dry off, kitten. Just… just hold on a tick.”

  She could feel him leaving; his comforting presence withdrawing. Without him, the cold came back. The darkness. That weight on her chest.

  Had she really almost jumped? Why? Because Tanner had confused her with someone else?

  No. There was something else. Something scurrying in the dark recesses of her mind. Gears clicking into place, completing a hidden machination she hadn’t even been aware she’d been working on. Snippets of conversations, expressions, events.

  Dead bodies.

  She tightened her grip on her knees.

 
Did this all have something to do with Tanner’s ‘kitsune’? Who was she? Or… who had she been? It sounded like it’d been a long time since he’d seen or heard from her. Maybe a few years.

  And what had he meant, asking if she’d finally seen everything he’d done for her.

  Dead bodies.

  Pearl shivered. Then again. Her teeth began chattering softly together.

  They had to let her leave now. She wouldn’t even need Greg’s help anymore; Caden would have to let her go. Tanner had tried to… tried to—

  “Nothing,” she mumbled. “Absolutely nothing.”

  He’d kissed her. Gently.

  That hand around her throat… she could have imagined the pressure. Her wolf had put his hand over her throat before. She’d enjoyed it. Greg too. And she’d enjoyed that even more.

  If anything, they’d take his side, wouldn’t they? The owner of the Fox Pit over a mere slave girl working in it.

  The bed shifted with Seth’s weight. Pearl froze — she hadn’t even heard him coming back into the room.

  His body was slightly cool against hers, slightly damp still. He’d rushed to join her. His hand closed over the top of her arm, squeezing her.

  “Stop shaking. You’ll warm up now.” He slid his arm over her waist, drawing her tight against him. She could feel every inch of his skin against hers; he was as naked as she.

  His breath was warm and soft against the back of her neck, his beard tickling the skin between her shoulder blades.

  “You saved my life,” Pearl whispered.

  Seth’s grip tightened around her waist. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  He exhaled slowly, and pressed his lips to her shoulder.

  “Because it was worth saving.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. One slid down her face, running over the bridge of her nose and merging with those already in her right eye. She blinked, forcing them free.

  “You’re the only one who seems to think so,” she said. Her voice grew thick. “Tanner didn’t—”

  “That’ll have to do,” he said. His hand tightened over her belly, digging into her flesh.

  Her pillow was damp. The shivers coursing through her began to grow lighter, further apart. Her eyes drooped, and after a futile few seconds of struggling, she let them close.