Haunt

Chapter 5

5

The few seconds of his fingers flexing around my throat while Dalton screams drag out for an eternity. It’s so hard to pull in a breath, even though he’s not really putting pressure on my neck, and I shudder when I hear the sound of the chainsaw cutting through flesh once again.

“You should look,” Ravage murmurs, leaning in close. “It’s so much better if you look.” Without giving me a choice, he crowds closer to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to force me to turn around.

Dalton is no longer screaming. Part of me hopes he’s not awake, only slumped in the chair as he is with his severed arms dripping blood to pool on the floor below. I bite my lip hard; the pain is stinging and sharp, and a low sound escapes my lips at the sight.

“He had it coming,” Ravage croons, pressing his mask to my face. “Don’t feel bad for him when he absolutely…” he keeps talking, telling me all about the things that should’ve happened, that will happen to Dalton before he’s really dead, but I’m not paying attention.

I can’t pay attention.

Doll Mask holds my gaze, seemingly unnoticed by the two other masked men in the room. As I watch, she tilts her head to one side, turning to look at something close to me. So I look too, finding a small table full of bloody tools and pieces of…something I don’t want to identify.

And close to my fingers is a knife. A small switchblade that’s still open, mostly clean and just sitting there invitingly. I’m so close to it, I really could just reach out and…

When I look back at Doll Mask, she nods her head at me subtly, barely noticeable at all while the man with the chainsaw says something to Ravage.

But I’m terrified. Fucking terrified that if I fuck this up, that switchblade will go straight in my chest and I’ll be the one in the chair about to get her arms sawed off. On the other hand…

My eyes drift back to Dalton, whose eyes are open now and staring dully in my direction. That’s what makes up my mind. I cannot, I will not let that be me. Not while I can still do something about it, anyway. Before I can stop myself, I grab the switchblade and whirl into Ravage’s hold, lifting it to plunge down into his chest.

He’s faster than I expect and he manages to shove away my hand. The shift is just enough that instead of stabbing him, the blade cuts into his arm, deep enough to make him spit a curse but probably not doing any real damage.

At least I keep the knife as he stumbles back. “You bitch ,” he sneers, a laugh in his words as he grips his bleeding upper arm. “Oh, princess…” His words end in a low, threatening growl and he lunges for me, giving me a small opening to lurch past him into the hallway.

Turning, I grab the door, catching sight of Doll Mask from the corner of my eye as she gently holds onto Scarecrow’s wrist. Neither of them is trying to come after me, and a flicker of relief travels through my chest.

When Ravage moves to follow me, I slam the door shut, he collides with the heavy wood before I manage to close it all the way. I hear his snarl of outrage, and a clatter that I hope means he stabbed himself on every sharp implement sitting on the table. Then I turn and flee down the hallway, hoping I’m heading for the right end of it that’ll take me back to the lobby and ultimately the parking lot.

God, I wish I had my phone.

I barge through the door at the end of the hall, grateful that I made the right decision and ended up back in the empty hallway. Without hesitating, I run to the far door, my blood-covered hands slipping around the handle.

This isn’t fake.

I try to turn it, to unlock it, but I realize quickly I’m locked in. Hell, I don’t even know where to begin to look for the keys to this place, and when I hear a yell from the hallway behind me, I decide I can’t stand here and try to wish the door open anymore.

“Fuck,” I hiss, heading to the other door in the lobby. It’s on a different wall than the hallway door, and thankfully, it’s unlocked.

But even as I sprint through the dark room on the other side of it, I still can’t get the thought out of my head that this isn’t fake.

The eye was real.

The bracelet of gore was real.

The chainsaw cutting through Dalton’s arms was fucking real.

My breathing comes in sharp, uneven pants as I stumble through the poorly lit warehouse, trying not to trip over the construction equipment and furniture that litter the space. A few times I fail, stumbling over pieces of something or scattered lumber with soft curses.

When the door to the lobby slams back against the wall on its hinges, light pours into the warehouse behind me. I turn, seeing Ravage stalk inside before he closes the door, plunging us into darkness again.

“Princess…” he calls, his purr echoing in the room. “Are we playing hide-and-seek?” I hear his steps echo on the concrete floor, and I duck under a large table, eyes fixed on his silhouette and the knife gripped tightly in my fingers. Too tightly, judging by how much they ache around the hilt of the blade.

“This is so kind of you, so thoughtful. It’s my favorite game, and I know all the hiding spots in here.” I can barely see him as he drifts deeper into the room, but I hear him rummaging around, knocking things over in his search for me. “Did I mention that the only way out is through the lobby door? And that without the key that’s in my pocket, you’re stuck in here?” He sounds way too happy when he says it, and I bite my lip to fight the urge to roll my eyes at his arrogance.

This definitely isn’t the time for my disdain.

Hearing his footsteps looming closer, it occurs to me that this is a shitty hiding place. Even with the lights off, the moonlight filtering in the high windows lends enough illumination that he’ll probably be able to see me, if he’s really looking.

And judging by how thoroughly he’s going through the place, he’s really fucking looking. Slowly, I edge backwards, dropping to my knees to crawl out from under the table the other way. Somehow I manage to do it without making a sound, and I make my way silently toward the piles of plywood behind me. It’s not perfect, but nothing here is perfect.

The gap between two of the pieces that lean against the wall is just big enough for me to squeeze into, and I back in carefully, barely making a sound as the wood shifts ever so slightly.

“Would you like to know what I intend to do with you when I find you?” His voice is closer now, way too close, and I flinch, flexing my fingers around the knife as they start to cramp. “If we’re being honest…I haven’t quite decided yet. Not the whole game, anyway. I just know I’m aching to play with you. See…” I hear him knock over something else in his search for me, but I don’t move.

“I didn’t have any guests to play with tonight. I guess I went a little overboard last year, and no one was worth my time this Halloween. Until you walked in, anyway. It doesn’t follow the rules, but”—he chuckles—“we gave you every single chance to leave. We made it so clear you came to the wrong place. Grim Descent?” He snorts. “Babe, how the hell do you get this lost when their parking lot is the most obvious thing in the world?”

I roll my eyes at his continued monologue, making a face. He really is making this worse than it needs to be, and I wonder if he ever shuts up. Clearly he enjoys the sound of his own voice; though if I wasn’t sure he was about to kill me very slowly and very painfully, I probably would, too.

“That’s okay, though. I can’t even be mad at you. Do you know why?” His soft voice is way too close, and as his steps scuff against the cement, I hold my breath and pray he doesn’t look here.

Suddenly the sheets of plywood over me are yanked away, crashing to the floor moments before a hand closes around my throat. “Because if you were where you were supposed to be, I wouldn’t have anyone to play with,” Ravage snarls in my ear.

“No!” I fumble with the knife, but this time he’s ready for me. His other hand grips mine, keeping it away from him as he drags me back across the room far enough that my hip slams into the large wooden table I’d been hiding under. I yelp in surprise and pain, writhing in his grip and wrestling for control of the knife.

“I don’t want to play with you!” I shriek, close enough to his mask that my lips brush the latex of it.

He snarls out an unfriendly laugh in response. “Too damn bad, Noa. But I’ll tell you what. Give me the knife, and it’ll sway me into being a little nicer to you. Come on. Be my good fucking princess and give me the knife .”

My only response is to scream at him, the words fuck and you in the sound somewhere. I tighten my grip on the blade instead, and slam his hand into the table harshly, forcing the blade to cut into his palm.

His answering yell is sharp and feral, more like a howl than anything else, and his grip on my neck shifts until his fingers are wrapped around the front of my throat. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he sneers in my face. “I didn’t know you wanted to play rough. I’ll give you what you want. All you had to do was ask.” His fingers tighten, my empty hand coming up to sink my nails into his forearm.

“Don’t,” I gasp, eyes wide. “Stop! I can’t?—”

“ Breathe ?” He laughs darkly. “Yeah, that’s the point. Or have you never done a little breath play before? Have you never let someone choke you out while they fuck your pretty pussy, Noa?”

My stomach flips at the words, and I jerk backward, only succeeding in hitting my thighs painfully on the table again.

“No?” he continues, not seeming to mind his blood that slicks my palm. “You haven’t? Are you telling me I’ll be the first to make your vision go all blurry while I fuck you? Oh princess, you’ll have to tell me all about coming when you’re on the verge of passing out…if I don’t go too far. I’m not always so good at control.” His fingers flex around my throat, and when he presses down again, the pain is different. Sharper, warmer, and almost immediately spots swim in my vision.

“There it is,” Ravage purrs. “That’s the sweet spot, isn’t it?” All I can do is whimper, my fingers trembling around his wrist and around the knife. I sob in protest, eyes closing hard, but his only reply is a soft snarl in my ear. “Are you going to let go, or am I going to have to choke you into unconsciousness?”

“That one.” The words come out a breathy gasp, and I open my eyes to glare at him, only to see a look of surprise in his bright green gaze.

“Oh Noa…” he purrs finally, a rueful chuckle in his words. “Oh, you’d really better be careful or I’m going to get attached. Now let me ask you one more time, okay? I’ll even do this…” He loosens his grip just enough that I can take an uninhibited breath, and my lungs burn with relief when I gasp. My eyes close hard as I pull in another drag of oxygen, my breathing the only sound in the warehouse.

“There you go. Breathe, babe. You’re all good.” His thumb strokes the side of my throat, trailing along my jaw. “Now I’ll ask you nicely one more time, okay?” His mask slides against my face, making me shudder. “Won’t you pretty please give me the knife, Noa? Before you hurt yourself with it?”

He waits. So fucking patiently, it’s irritating while I pant harshly. He doesn’t even mind my fingers still digging into his wrist. Ravage just stands there, pinning me to the table behind me.

“I…” I take a breath and my heart twists painfully as I realize what I’m about to do. But I can’t let go of the knife. I can’t.

Not willingly, anyway. If I do and he kills me, then I’ll regret it for the few seconds or minutes or hours that it takes for me to die.

I can’t give up the only weapon I have against him.

“Not in a million—” When I don’t even get to finish the sentence, it dawns on me that Ravage was expecting me to say no, considering the way his hand is quick to close around my throat once more. He lets go of my hand with the knife too fast and unexpectedly for me to take advantage of it, and grabs the front of my hoodie to haul me off my feet before slamming me down on the heavy, sturdy table I’d hidden under.

The movement knocks the air out of me, and it’s way too easy for him to reach out and snatch the knife from my hand without much fight.

“That’s okay.” Without pulling his fingers from my neck, he hops up onto the table, moving to straddle my hips. My hands come up to push against him, fear filling my lungs in the place of oxygen as I cry out in protest. “I didn’t want to do it the easy way, either. I get it, princess.” Still holding me down with just one hand, he lifts the knife to gaze at it. “I’m not even sure who this belongs to,” he admits conversationally as my nails dig into his forearm. His fingers shift against my throat, finding that place again, and I whimper in fear and terrified anticipation.

“Shhh, shh . I’m just holding you here. You’re fine.” But he lowers the knife, returning his attention to me, and gently taps the tip of the blade against my nose. “I can’t believe you actually cut me, truthfully. I didn’t think you had it in you. You’re such a feral little thing when you’re cornered, aren’t you?” His voice is soft, silky, and filled with sickly sweet kindness.

“Let me go,” I gasp, heels pressed against the table as I try to get the leverage to push him off. “You said I wasn’t invited—I’m not supposed to be here. So just let me leave, please .” I’m not above begging, apparently. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise I won’t—” The press of the knife’s tip to my lower lip cuts me off and I whine in protest.

He doesn’t speak for a few moments. He just drags the tip of the blade over my lips, pressing the point in against the bow of my upper lip until it stings. “What’s my name?” he asks at last. “Not my real name, obviously. But the name I go by here. Do you know it?”

“Ravage.” There’s no hesitation when I say it. His is one of the few names I actually remember, and if I live through the night, I certainly won’t forget.

“Good girl.” Something unwanted curls up my spine at the purred praise, but I definitely don’t need that tonight. “Do you remember anyone else’s name?”

I think about it, going through the masks in my head before remembering another one. And the way the animal skull mask and the tactical gear were so similar to Ravage’s. “Harrow.”

“Oh, very good girl.” He pauses, watching as I shift under him. “Do you like that, hmm? You like it when I call you my good girl?”

“Not at all.” My fingers tighten again, and there’s no way he doesn’t feel it.

“Are you sure?” He leans down, his mask looming in my sight. “Are you—” I don’t know why I do it. But when I get enough leverage with my feet pressed to the table and my fingers around his wrist, I lunge upward, cracking my forehead against the nose of his mask and making him reel back.

“Fuck!” he snarls, dropping the knife to the floor and lifting his hand to his face. “You little—” he snarls and his grip tightens, cutting off my air even as he laughs. “You’re going to be fun, aren’t you?”

“Let go!” I shriek, scratching at his wrist. “Let go, I can’t?—!”

“ Breathe?!” he snarls near my face. “Of course you can’t. Do you want to?” I nod fervently at his stupid question. “You think you deserve to breathe? Hmm? Answer me .” His snarl makes me flinch, and I nod again, desperate for some kind of relief from him choking me.

“Good girl.” He releases my throat just enough for me to take a breath, his other hand coming up to grip my hoodie, tugging it up until my stomach is vulnerable to the cool air of the warehouse.

“Don’t,” I whisper, gripping his other wrist with one hand. “Don’t!”

He just hums a reply, but doesn’t stop until the fabric of my hoodie is bunched up under my bra. “Aren’t you just so pretty?” His gloved hand strokes over my stomach, causing my muscles to tense up in desperate anticipation of the worst. “Especially all scared and breathless like this. Such a pretty Halloween present for me.”

When I scoff a protest, his eyes flick back up to my face. “You’re so lucky I enjoy it when you fight me. Some of the others wouldn’t. I even like it when you cut me, and if I didn’t think you’d kill me…” His fingers drift up my skin until he can trace the line of my bra. “I’d give you the knife back.”

“I’ll only stab you a little.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and my pulse races with anxiety. “ Promise .”

His rough chuckle meets my ears. “I love that fight of yours, princess. I wonder how long you can keep it. I wonder what it’ll take to have you begging for me, hmm?” He moves, shifting up on his knees, and his hand presses against my hip, dragging a whine of protest from me. But he ignores it as he drags my leggings over my hips, tugging them down my thighs even as I press my knees together in an attempt to stop him.

“No!” I fight Ravage again in earnest, one hand on the wrist at my throat and the other grasping for his other hand. “N-no! Don’t! I don’t want—” His fingers close lightly over the point in my neck that makes me see stars, and it clearly has the effect he’s going for. My eyes close hard and with my focus on breathing around the pressure, Ravage is able to tug my leggings and underwear down to my knees amidst my choked off sob.

“I know, babe. You don’t want any of this, do you?” I hate his mockingly sweet tone enough that I’d love to be the one choking him for a change. “You just came here looking for a fun haunt to push your boundaries, didn’t you?” My heels hit the table again as I struggle, unable to look away from his mask as his gloved fingers trail over my hips before dipping between my thighs. “I’ll push your boundaries for you.” He says it like a promise, like a secret between us.

Before I can protest, or scream, or do anything, his fingers slide against me, his glove smooth against my folds. I yelp around his hand, both of mine flying up to claw at his wrist. But it only makes him shudder, and he tips his head back like he’s getting off on the pain from my nails.

Maybe he is.

My whine echoes between us as he strokes his fingers against me, sliding against my entrance before pausing to give my clit extra attention. I hate it, or rather, I hate how my stomach curls in response to it and heat pools between my thighs at his urging. “Stop,” I murmur, my nails digging in hard enough that I feel the slide of blood on his skin.

“Nah, princess. I’m having too much fun. Aren’t you having fun?” he squeezes my throat again, cutting off my air, and his fingers pick up their movement against me, teasing my entrance between stroking over my clit every few seconds.

My head shakes in answer. I am most certainly not having fun. Especially not when he continues to not let me breathe until spots swim in my fuzzy vision. Only then does he let go, allowing me to gasp in a lungful of air just as he shoves two fingers into me.

“Feels good, right?” Ravage laughs. “With your head spinning and my fingers in your pretty pussy? You take two so easy. Bet you could take three.” Again I shake my head in protest, writhing on the table to do anything to get away from him. “Deep breath, princess. On the count of three for me.”

“N-no—please, I can’t?—”

“ One ,” he growls, cutting me off as his fingers continue to thrust in and out of me languidly.

“I can’t?—”

“ Two .” I feel the brush of his third finger and whimper nervously, trying to press my thighs together while his hand continues to move as if he doesn’t notice.

“Please—”

“Three. Deep breath.”

I listen to him, though I don’t want to. But I also don’t want to suffocate while he fingers me. I suck in a deep breath and he waits until my lungs are full of oxygen before closing his fingers around my throat again, his thumb nudging that place under my jaw that makes me see stars. He’s not kind about it. He doesn’t slowly increase the pressure, but goes from just holding my neck to choking me so hard I can’t even make a noise of protest.

“Good girl. Good girl ,” Ravage snarls, scissoring his fingers inside of me. “Look at you so desperate for me. Told you this would be better, didn’t I? And you get so wet when I don’t let you breathe. If I didn’t have the gloves on, I bet you’d be able to hear just how much your pussy is begging for my fingers. So fucking greedy.” Without warning, he adds another, sinking his digits into me slowly once before picking up his movements to be sharp and punishing. It jolts my hips against the table as I writhe, kicking out at nothing in a futile attempt to get him off of me while my lungs scream for oxygen.

“The more you fight, the faster you run out of oxygen.” His thumb finds my clit, rubbing over it continuously instead of just teasing like he’d done before. “Doesn’t matter to me. I’m not the one who can’t breathe. But I felt like I should tell you that.”

I can barely hear him over the pounding of my pulse in my ears as my chest burns, begging for the oxygen he refuses to give me. My body shifts as his touches send heat jolting through me, and a soft whine is the only sound I can make in response.

“Feels so good, right?” Ravage purrs. “It’s so intense when you can’t breathe. Fuck, you’re so wet. Will you come for me, princess?” He loosens his grip just a little, just enough for me to take a small breath before closing them around my throat again. “Are you?”

I shake my head fervently, fingers sliding against his bloody wrist. If I had the air I’d beg for him to stop. I’d plead with him to let me go, but all I can do is gasp around his hand and fight the rising heat from his touch.

He hums at my denial, twisting his fingers and curling them ever so slightly. The movement has me arching off the table, kicking out once again at nothing. “There you go. There it is, princess. You look like you feel so good. You wanna come for me?” Again I shake my head, mind starting to go fuzzy. When I open my eyes, darkness winks in and out of my vision, obscuring his mask as I try to blink enough to clear it.

I know there’s nothing wrong with my eyes; it’s the lack of oxygen that’s doing this to me. When he brushes over my clit again, I let out a hoarse, gasping sob, chest heaving in a desperate attempt for oxygen.

“Come on, come on , my pretty little princess. You’re so desperate, aren’t you?” He leans in close until he can nuzzle his mask against the side of my face. “It’ll feel so good, I promise. Just let go for me. Just let go and come all over my fingers, pretty girl.”

This time I can’t even shake my head. My vision is darkening, his mask is mostly shadows in my unfocused gaze, and my body feels coiled and tense, the actions of his fingers only making it worse. My hips jerk against his hand, and I can’t seem to help myself as I continue to grind against his fingers, even when I distantly hear his soft murmurs of encouragement.

“You won’t last much longer. Come on, Noa.” His grip changes, softening very slightly and making my head spin. “Come for me, babe. Come on my fingers. Soak my glove in your cum, princess.” He seems to be working himself up as well, as his fingers thrust desperately in and out of my body until finally, I can’t help it. Eyes wide and mostly unseeing, I arch off the table, my grip loosening on his wrist as my orgasm hits me.

And that’s when he lets go.

Oxygen floods my lungs as I come, loud cries leaving my mouth like sobs as I audibly drag air into my lungs. Ravage fingers me through it, not even slowing down while my body tenses around him.

“Stop,” I pant weakly, the feeling overwhelming as I come down from my release. “S-stop. It’s too much, it’s too—” He instantly does what I ask, sitting back on his heels as he watches me from behind the mask.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He reaches up and smears his gloved fingers over my lips, forcing them between my teeth so I’m forced to taste my release on his gloves. It turns my stomach, and I really should be more grossed out.

I shouldn’t be aching from the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. It’s clearly the oxygen deprivation talking as he strokes his fingers over my tongue, wordlessly watching me. “Good girl,” he murmurs again. “Just lay there and breathe for me. I’ll give you a minute.”

Opening my eyes, I turn away from him, trying to pant out the question of what he means. But he jerks my face back up to face him, keeping his gaze on mine. “But just a minute, okay? I don’t know how much longer I can wait to feel your sweet pussy around my cock.”