by Logan Fox
Pearl swallowed, forcing down the urge to blubber like a five-year-old whose father was holding a belt in his hand, demanding to know who’d put a baseball through his car’s windshield. Instead, she managed a tiny shake of her head.
“How’d that happen?” Owen asked quietly.
Those green eyes were too fixated on her. Too intense. And, when they slid down to the gash in her leg and the blood pooling underneath, they returned glittering.
“Looks bad,” he said. “Should get it looked at.”
Owen’s hand dipped down, touching her ankle. Tugging at the golden band around her leg. The charms moved, tinkling faintly.
“She’s real, Caden.”
Pearl jerked at the sound of Tanner’s voice, as low as it was. She couldn’t take her eyes away from Owen, not as threateningly close as he was, but she heard Tanner’s voice change direction as if he was headed for the stairs again.
“Tanner, wait—”
“No. You know what?” Tanner’s voice changed again, rising as he turned back to Caden. “I’m glad this is over. Fucking ecstatic. We made a pact, Caden. You remember?”
“Of course I—” Caden began, sounding sulky.
“Doesn’t seem like it.” Tanner let out a laugh, but it lacked any resemblance to humor or mirth. “Seems like you’ve forgotten why we did this.”
“We’ve made enough—”
“I’m not talking about the fucking money!” Tanner’s yell rebounded from the walls.
Even Owen’s eyes widened at the man’s ferocity. But then he ducked forward again, putting a finger to his lips as he sank down onto a knee beside Pearl. She stiffened, wriggling to the side before Owen’s hand closed over her waist, stilling her.
He looked past her, green eyes flickering with curiosity, mouth parting like a mischievous child as he peered over the landing.
“Tanner—” began Caden, his voice low, urgent.
“We said the Fox Pit would be the shit. The most exclusive, the most expensive, the most—” Tanner broke off.
Pearl stared wide-eyed at Owen as the man leaned closer, his own eyes fixed on whatever transpired on the landing a few feet away. She turned her head, feeling Owen’s breath on the back of her neck.
“I knew it,” Owen murmured.
Pearl’s gaze slid to where Tanner and Caden stood. Caden was against the wall again, head tipped up as if struggling to hold down his irritation. Tanner had his elbow and lower arm against the wall beside Caden’s head, their bodies practically touching as Tanner berated the taller man.
“It was our dream, Caden,” Tanner said, ducking his head. “For you to just come and rip it away—”
“It was your dream, not mine. I merely indulged you.”
Tanner’s head shot up. Caden stared down at him, non-plussed despite Tanner’s open-mouthed astonishment. Tanner drew away, taking a step back. Caden crossed his arms over his chest and gave a small shrug.
“You have a way of making shit shine like gold and smell like roses. This—” Caden’s hand darted up, a flick of his fingers taking in the Fox Pit “—all sounded just dandy when you laid it out for me. But not the smuggling. First I heard of it was that night at the Tower when I was so high I would’ve said yes to you eating me alive while I watched. And then you held me to my word like the bastard—”
Tanner interrupted him with a sour bark of a laugh. He reached out, laying a hand on Caden’s shoulder, his thumb brushing the side of Caden’s neck.
“Fun talk, buddy,” Tanner said. “Should’ve done this sooner, though. Like four years ago sooner.”
“So now you’re regretting it?” Caden’s voice dripped with loathing. “Now that I’m not playing along anymore, it doesn’t feel so fucking amazing, does it?”
Tanner tsked with a small shake of his head. “So why’d you stay? You could’ve backed out—” Tanner clicked his fingers beside Caden’s ear “—like this. I wouldn’t have stopped you.”
“Because you’d just have let me go?” Caden murmured, his chin dropping to his chest. He stared at Tanner through his glasses, tightening the grip around his chest. “Like you let Ivy go?”
Tanner stiffened.
Behind Pearl, Owen let out a whisper of a whistle. His breath washed over the back of her neck as he leaned closer. “I’ve never been a fan of soap operas,” he murmured into her ear. “How about we get that leg of yours looked at?”
His hand slid over her, touching the splinter protruding from Pearl’s thigh. Pearl gasped, immediately slapping a hand over her mouth.
Caden’s head turned to the stairs. But then Tanner’s hand slid around Caden’s throat, pressing the man back into the wall.
“Like I let her go?” Tanner repeated slowly, his voice rough.
Caden shifted, his lips tightening. “Like you let Opal go.”
Tanner let out a harsh breath through his nose as his thumb ran over the bulge of Caden’s Adam’s apple.
“We’re going in circles, here,” Tanner said quietly. “An eye for an eye, until we’re both fucking blind and not a limb between us.”
Caden shifted, but didn’t try and escape from Tanner’s grip.
Pearl tugged her leg away from Owen’s fingers, glaring at the man over her shoulder. He didn’t shy away — instead, that wide mouth of his turned up into a smile.
A flicker in the back of her mind hankered for attention. Owen’s eyes darted between hers, his fingertips trailing up her hip, her waist.
What was she forgetting? Other than this man completely ignoring her safe word, leaving behind five gashes in her back which would probably scar… if they ever healed after today’s torturous affair.
What the hell was he still doing here? Hadn’t Caden told him to piss off?
“Next thing I know,” Tanner said with a laugh in his voice, “you’ll be selling off Pearl to that fucker Malik.”
At the sound of her name, Pearl started. Owen’s smile lifted higher. He gave a small shake of his head.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered down to her. “You’re not going anywhere. I promise.”
Fear drenched her in stinging shards of ice. Pearl’s lip parted as she drew in a deep breath. Owen’s hand was by her breast, but instead of cupping or squeezing it as she’d been expecting, it simply rose higher, sliding over her throat.
Mr. Morrison.
Owen had called Seth on his phone. They’d had a surreptitious conversation, and then Seth had come back—
No, not Seth.
Someone else. Was that someone else Owen’s lackey?
Owen, who didn’t stay at the Fox Pit, but who knew all the girls. When they came… and when they left.
What if Seth had taken Gia to Owen, instead of to California? Well, not Seth, but… the other guy. The one in the bathtub. The one who’d promised to paint her skin red with her own blood.
“Caden?” Tanner’s voice came as a distant billow of sound, despite the roughness of it, its disbelieving pitch.
Owen’s smile deepened. “Something on your mind, sweetheart?”
Pearl forced a hard swallow. Her arms tensed under her, her fingers tightening around the strap of the duffel bag.
“It’s you,” she whispered.
“In the flesh,” Owen murmured.
“No…” she swallowed again. Bile filled her mouth in an instant, and she struggled against a violent swell of nausea. “You killed them. Gia, the others. The girls they found.”
A flash of surprise crossed Owen’s face, but it was gone as soon as it arrived. He cocked his head at her, the tip of his thumb touching the bottom of her lip — it trembled against him, dry with sudden fear.
Tanner’s voice swelled out from behind her again.
“You fucking bastard,” Tanner said. The tightness in his voice strangled the words. “You even try and—”
“It’s already done,” came Caden’s calm voice. “She’s leaving tomorrow.” False mirth touched Caden’s words. “Shall I ask her to send Ivy your
regards?”
Tanner let out a soft growl. There was a scuffle, a thud. And then Caden’s breathless voice, sounding strained, “No? Just Opal, then?”
“That’s our cue,” Owen said.
He moved lightning fast. Pearl’s lungs were still filling for a scream when he slapped his hand over her mouth, slammed a fist over that splinter of wood in her thigh, and jerked her to her feet using the front of her dress as a harness.
Blackness washed over Pearl. An iridescent shard of pain speared into her. She screamed into Owen’s hand, not hearing the sound for the roar in her ears.
Her weight shifted, her legs tangling under her as Owen drew her down the stairs. They had to be making a noise, stumbling down the stairs as they were, but she couldn’t even hear that. Silent tears coursed down her face as she slapped at the hand over her face, tried to bite down on the hand over her mouth.
But there was too much saliva, too much jarring movement. Owen released her dress. His hand snaked into her hair, tugging fiercely at it as he herded her down the stairs.
From below came a surprised cry.
Ethan?
Pearl stiffened. Owen’s grip on her tightened. There was the barest hesitation from the man behind her before he pushed her forward, urgent now.
Another cry, something hitting the wall. Pearl’s struggles intensified. Dear God, don’t let that be Ethan and Seth. A pained sound, followed by a low rumble of frustration… and then running feet.
And they were still several steps away from the landing.
Pearl blinked away tears, forced down another muffled wail of pain, and mustered up every last ounce of willpower she still possessed.
This wasn’t going to happen.
She wasn’t going to come around the corner and see Ethan lying like a heap of butcher’s meat on the carpet. She wasn’t going to be herded to God-knew where, stepping in the blood of every other girl that came before her, waiting for whatever grisly end Fate had planned for her.
Owen made a surprised sound when Pearl threw herself to the side.
They crashed into the wall. Another flash of agony had her reeling, but Owen’s grip slipped just enough for her to yank her head free. He scored her cheek with his nails as he tried to claw her back. She whipped her head away from him, let out a cry as she lost her footing and fell onto her hip.
Pearl thudded down two steps before she could scramble up — using the wall as leverage — and push herself forward.
Their chase became frantic.
The blistering heat that wooden shard produced made her delirious with pain. Her lips tugged into a gritting smile when she made it to the landing, barely keeping her feet under her as she barreled into the hallway.
She was going too fast, unable to prevent those agonizing jars to her injured leg. Missing her turn to go downstairs, instead crashing into the wall opposite the stairs with a cry.
The duffel bag thumped hard against her thigh. Pearl blinked away a multitude of sparkling stars, her gasp echoing down the hallway.
Her leg dragged as she ran toward Ethan’s door.
And then her pain-clouded vision cleared, allowing her to focus on the dark shadow looming ahead.
Seth.
Pearl’s legs stuttered to a halt. She panted for breath, wide eyes latched to Seth as he came closer. Blood painted his lips. It had slicked down his beard with wet black, some of it spotting the belly of his high-neck t-shirt.
Footsteps behind her. Owen let out a harsh breath and came closer. Furious exhalations through his nose was enough of an indication of how close he was.
Run.
The voice was louder, more insistent. It almost sounded like Gia’s… if the girl’s throat had been crushed before she died.
Pearl let out a strangled scream and ran at Seth — at the thing that wore his skin like a gimp suit. Behind her, Owen let out a deep-throated growl. “Get her, you imbecile!”
The fox handler gritted blood stained teeth at her. Had he run into the door and knocked himself out like she’d thought? Judging from the crooked angle of his nose, it seemed the only possibility. That… or someone had punched him.
Someone like… Ethan?
Pearl’s heart was already pounding like a racehorse chomping at the bit, but her skin flashed with ice at the thought that, behind the door she hurtled past, Ethan could be lying with his head smashed in.
Like Henry, the kind hearted driver. The one Seth had beaten into a coma.
Had it even been Seth, that night?
The man waited for her, massive hands bunching into fists, knuckles whitening the closer she came.
She feinted to the right, her leg screaming at her, and then darted around to the left.
He grabbed her.
Bellowed when the chiffon of her dress tore instead of bringing her to him.
The strap of the duffel bag offered more resistance. Pearl swallowed a gulp of air as she was yanked back. Another flare of pain made her jaw clamp shut, trapping a scream of agony — and her breath — inside.
Pearl tried to shake the bag free, but it had wrapped itself around her arm up to the elbow.
The fox handler tugged at her again, and she slipped to a knee, struggling furiously against the rough strap drawing her inexorably closer to the man’s thick, grasping hands.
“Hey, you’re not—what the fuck?”
Pearl’s head whipped around. She caught sight of Owen doing the same, his upper body twisting as he glanced over his shoulder. Tanner and Caden had just alighted behind them on the landing. Caden stared wide-eyed at the scene, the man’s upper body drawing back with shock. Tanner, on the other hand, surged forward with a rough growl, teeth bared like a wolf staring down a bear.
Another jerk tugged Pearl onto her back. She hissed, rolling onto her side.
Those wounds would never heal.
Cool air teased wet, bloodied chiffon where it clung to the gashes on her shoulder. Surprisingly, the wound in her thigh had stopped bleeding. She had precious little time to appreciate the irony — if it was irony — over the fact that Owen had probably saved her life, driving that shard deep enough to stem the wound it had caused. Or, perhaps, her body was simply running out of blood to pump.
It felt like it. Her head swam as she clawed herself away from Fox Handler Seth a.k.a. Mr. Bipolar As Fuck.
“Chair!” yelled Owen, for reasons that completely failed to register in Pearl’s mind. “Leave her!”
And, just like that, the force keeping Pearl to the ground vanished. She shot up, grimacing through another bolt of pain. Her feet churned under her as she raced for the far stairs ahead.
Every ounce of reason shrieked at her not to do it, but she was overcome with some unfathomable urge to look behind her. Her hair flashed into her eyes as she turned her head, her legs pounding hard under her.
Tanner had Owen against the wall, his lower arm against the man’s throat. Owen, despite having several inches on the billionaire, seemed incapable of levering himself free, regardless of the blows he rained on Tanner’s stomach and face.
And then the fox handler arrived.
Pearl stumbled to a halt, breath tearing like a hurricane through her mouth.
The Chair — that’s what Owen’d called him, anyway — took a last, lumbering step closer to the pair. He drew back an arm and landed a solid blow to the side of Tanner’s head.
The man went down without a sound, as if that blow had yanked his plug from its socket.
Caden, who’d been on his way to help Tanner, froze when The Chair turned to him. Owen slid to his knees, hand around his throat as he gasped for air. Caden’s terrified blue eyes dashed past The Chair and landed for an instant on Pearl.
The remorse in his eyes was unmistakable.
His lips parted, but he spun around and raced down the stairs before speaking. One hand was sliding in his pocket, no doubt for his phone.
Calling for help? Or calling for a cab?
Pearl took a step back, chest too t
ight to breathe, her body vibrating like a plucked guitar string. Owen looked up at her, green eyes narrowed with a spitting rage. Slipping a hand behind his back, Owen drew out a pistol. He pushed himself up, scraping the barrel of the gun against the wall as he struggled to his feet.
She fully expected him to lift that gun toward her, to pull the trigger. But instead, he pointed a finger at her.
“Don’t let her get too far, Rex.” The rasping voice that left Owen’s mouth could have done a demon king proud.
The Chair — or was it Rex now? — stiffened, abruptly coming to a halt. He swayed on his feet, as if waiting for instruction. Owen spat to the side and lurched after Caden, giving Tanner’s unmoving body a violent kick as he past.
“She has a date with the devil.”
Owen gave Pearl a slow smile over his shoulder before he disappeared down the stairs.
10
Super Pearl
Pearl’s desperate panting drowned out every sound except her roaring pulse. Had it not been for those two things — that in-out of fire, that throb of blood — then Pearl wouldn’t have known she was still alive. Her body had become numb to the point of clumsiness. Her legs thrashed under her on automatic. Her hands were the only things keeping her on her feet, clinging to the wall as she dragged herself forward.
Out.
She had to get out.
Her body decided to ignore the last step and take a short plunge onto the ground floor of the Fox Pit. She cried out wordlessly and turned, commanded by some faint signal from her brain.
Patio. Labyrinth. Stables. Forest.
That had been her plan. Except… Pearl’s shoulder slammed into the wall, drawing a breathless whimper as she rebounded from it. God, but she was tired.
Yes, the plan. It lay scorched across her mind like the sullenly red, cooling metal of a newly forged press. But her plan had included shoes. Warm sweats. A phone, water, maybe even a map.
And yet she couldn’t stay here either.
Because he was coming down the stairs. His feet thundered down the steps, making her skin grow tight with dread and apprehension the closer that sound drew.
