Kings of Decay (The Winston Brothers Duet #1)

35. Ainsley

Chapter thirty-five

Ainsley

I touched my cheek. Scabs rose in tiny bumps over my skin where Willow had scratched at me through my mask. She'd almost drawn blood. I was impressed. Pissed, but impressed.

The Jeep rolled to a stop outside the cabin, the smoke and water damage long forgotten. We'd paid cash to some townsfolk to get it fixed up before the storms. Now, our little cabin was ready for Willow and everything we had planned for her.

"We're here," I said in a sing-song voice.

Willow mumbled around the gag as Pearce dragged her out of the backseat. Her legs were weak and wobbling beneath her.

"We made it," Pearce said, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "You'll be safe and sound here with us, no worries. We just want you to relax a bit before we get started."

Before she could protest, Pearce pushed her into the cabin.

It looked different without the dozens of bodies dancing. The cabin was big, empty, and cold. Leather furniture, hard lines, and metallic accents -- her new prison was much more stylish than the pathetic cabin she rented.

Willow mumbled around the gag.

I locked the door with a snarl. "Take that thing off. It's annoying."

Pearce complied, holding her unnecessarily close while he untied the gag.

Willow let out a gasp, free from the soggy gag. She took in a breath to scream, but the sound died in her throat as I turned on her.

"Don't even bother," I said. "You're here with us now," I emphasized the last few words as I stepped closer to her.

Willow trembled and stumbled backward, but there was nowhere for her to go. I was blocking the exit.

"What do you want from me?" She asked, her eyes pleading for me to understand the fear in her voice.

"Just a little fun," I smiled, trailing the tip of my finger along the curve of her cheek.

She flinched away from my touch. Disgust and anger flashed across Willow's face as she stared at me.

Pearce came up behind her, clasping her shoulders. "You're ours, little mouse." His voice was dark and smooth, with a sinister edge. She tried to pull away from his grip, but it was no use.

"It's no use fighting," Pearce whispered against her ear. "We've already won."

The wind howled outside. The snow passed over the windows in furious white sheets.

Maybe Willow didn't want us now, but she would. We had nothing but time.