Sicko(78)

He finally came back to me, removing the tight ropes around my wrists. I flexed them around in circles. A loud crackle of sound echoed through speakers as I finally took in the room. Dark walls, one bed, one chair. No windows, no mirrors, one door—with a small window in the front. It smelled of bleach and expensive perfume. Maybe we’re in a lab inside a house.

“Welcome, boys. Since you decided to defy me and attempt to run, consider this your warning and your punishment.” His voice was the same. The unnatural robotic undertones a dead giveaway that whoever this bastard was, he didn’t want anyone knowing. “I’m going to starve you to within an inch of your life, and then I will feed you whatever I wish to feed you. You will do as I say while you’re in here or I will start killing off each of your family members, starting with Jade.” My blood turned cold again. “You will do everything I tell you to do, and if you oblige to all, I will free you on the sixteenth day with your vehicles, your necessities, but not your dignity. You will be required to perform tasks to meet my needs. All tasks must be completed. All you will have is each other in this den. All you will see is each other, all you will fuck is each other, and all you will eat, will be each other. If you don’t listen, that is. Otherwise, I might be kind and feed you someone in my freezer.”

I stilled, all of us foraging around the room while every now and then our eyes would land on each other.

“I’m a powerful man. Don’t believe me? When you get out of here—if you do—Google Diamond. You’ll get an idea.”



I’m squeezing the steering wheel, refusing to relive the sixteen days we spent together in what Diamond called The Den. “What happened when we left?” My voice is cold, distant.

I wish I could say that we obeyed him from the second we were abducted into The Den, but fuck, of course we didn’t. He lived up to everything he promised, though. In a way, I think that’s why the four of us formed an even stronger bond. We left on the sixteenth day, but Wicked stayed behind. He wasn’t released until the twenty-first day, which is why we’re having this tense fucking conversation. I was pretty fucked up after it all happened. The club healed me; Lion saved me. I could have lost myself the day that I walked into Patches, but instead I found myself. A new family. I tried therapy anyway, because I was young and fresh out of being in the millionaire kids’ club. It was the answer to everything growing up. Something your parents can’t handle? Off to a flashy therapist who’d drain your parents’ pockets dry while making you feel like a colossal fuck up. You don’t need therapy when you’re around people who don’t make you feel like you’re alone or crazy or fucked up for surviving the shit you did.

Wicked clears his throat. I already know that I won’t like anything that comes out of his mouth. But like a sucker for pain, I need to know. I need to know every single fucking detail.

“You want to do this now?” Wicked says as I floor it forward, picking up speed. Motorbikes swerve in and out in the rearview mirror, catching up quickly.

“Yeah, I fucking do. Just can’t promise I won’t crash this fucking car and kill us both.”

Wicked doesn’t answer. After a beat of silence—a long fucking beat—the words I didn’t want to hear left his mouth. “He made me do shit to her. Brought her into my Den, same rules. Said she was fresh meat—” Wicked pauses and my breathing catches up heavily. The pulsing in my head is only intensifying, my jealousy rearing its fat fucking head. “—that only he had taken a bite out of.” My control snaps and I swerve into the other lane and drop down, gaining more speed. “Brother, I need you to know that I had no choice.”

I can hear the wariness in his voice. The way his head moves from front-on to sideways, watching the road and me. The road and me.

“Carry the fuck on, brother.” I need to pull myself together if I have any chance of surviving this story when I know what is coming. I know Diamond and how he fucking operates. I may not know who the man is behind the mask, but I know his traits. His taste. Thinking that Jade is tangled up with him makes me fucking murderous. One word keeps flashing through my mind in neon fucking light.

Regret.

Wicked doesn’t hold back. “She came in dressed in suit pants and a fucking bra. Her hair was all tidy, her makeup on point. She—”

I cut in, “—to be clear, not saying that you knew because you obviously didn’t, but she was fucking fifteen.” I glare at him over my arm. “Fifteen, Lenny!”

Wicked has a poker face that could conquer Las Vegas, but throwing his real name at him has his cheek twitching.

“I didn’t know.” He shakes his head, running his big hand through his hair. “Fuck!” He punches my leather dash a few times. “Fuck!” I’ve never seen Wicked lose his cool. Not ever. He’s famous for keeping himself calm and collected. Unlike the rest of us unhinged bastards.

“It’s not your fault,” I exhale, needing him to continue but not wanting him to blame himself. Wicked had a baby sister once, he knows how it is. He’d never willingly fuck an underage girl. The baby sister story plays a big part in why he doesn’t like people calling him Lenny.

He clears his throat, and I know the rest of the story is going to come out pained. “She came in. Dressed up with a little bunny mask on and a shit load of makeup. She didn’t look fucking fifteen.”