Page 120 of Desecrated Saints
Phoenix tosses the blade on the sofa, his fingers gripping the fresh wounds he’s inflicted on the girl he loves. Swirling the blood with his thumb from the leaking cuts, he looks fascinated. His stained digit pushes into Brooklyn’s mouth before she can protest, forcing her to clean her own blood from his skin.
“Beautiful,” he utters.
She greedily sucks on his thumb, riding the waves of her climax. That pushes Phoenix over the edge. He releases a guttural moan, his forehead resting against her sternum while filling her up. Unable to remain upright, we all collapse in a dog pile.
Limbs, arms, come, and blood spread across the sofa. We fight to catch our breath before erupting back into laughter. The living room is a fucking mess. Cushions and stained fabric surround us, so there’s no denying what we’ve been up to.
Right on time, the door opens to admit a waft of fresh dough and melted cheese. Hudson is carrying a huge stack of pizza boxes, balancing several extra boxes of baked cookies on top. He stops dead in his tracks when he spots us all, naked and laughing at the look on his face.
“I, uh. Pepperoni pizza, extra cheese. No pineapple,” he says in bemusement.
Brooklyn props her chin on her hand. “Thanks, baby. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I dunno,” Phoenix chuckles. “Felt pretty hard to me.”
I’ve never seen Hudson blush before, but fuck me gently, his cheeks are bright pink as he deposits the pizzas and takes a seat in one of the stuffed armchairs. He stares at all of our naked skin on display while grabbing a huge slice of pizza and inhaling it.
“I’m not cleaning this shit up,” he says around a mouthful of food. “And you can pay Hunter back for his ruined sofa.”
CHAPTER 25
BROOKLYN
DIE4U - BRING ME THE HORIZON
Staring into the dead eye of the camera, I feel a chilling sense of déjà vu. The interview room is dull, with blank white walls and two boarded-up windows. I’m terrified to blink, in case the world melts away and I’m back in that basement, ready for a new experiment to begin.
Are you scared of the truth, Miss West?
Running won’t help you.
Let’s pick up where we left off.
Clearing my throat, I shove Augustus’s sick taunting from my mind. In the corner behind me, Hunter sits with his laptop. He hasn’t spoken a single word to me, but I can see the almost-black circles beneath his clear eyes. He’s grieving, but still holding up his end of our bargain. I can respect that.
“Here, water.” Enzo deposits a plastic cup in front of me.
“Thanks.”
Hesitating, he peers down at me. “Just tell the truth, kid. You’re not on trial. These people will ask you difficult questions. Don’t fight them. It’ll only make this worse.”
“Not on trial… yet.”
Squeezing my shoulder, Enzo retreats to his corner. His huge arms band across his barrel chest, every inch of his towering frame screaming intimidation. It feels good knowing he’s here to keep me safe, even if neither of them can fend off the demons within me.
Ten minutes later, there’s a sharp rap on the door before it opens. Three men and one woman enter, dressed to the nines in pressed suits and blank, corporate expressions. After coolly greeting Hunter and Enzo, two of them sit in front of me. The others take the chairs behind and pull out their notebooks.
“Brooklyn West?” the woman opposite asks.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“My name is Agent Barlow, this is Agent Jonas.” She gestures to the man next to her. “We represent the Serious Crimes Unit. We’ve been assigned to this case to gather the information needed to proceed with an investigation.”
Her pale-green gaze is sharp, attentive, framed by perfectly blow-dried, blonde waves. She looks like a spotless piece of artwork, slick and polished in her finery. I feel awkward and entirely insignificant in my ripped jeans and Hudson’s Badflower t-shirt.
“I understand,” I respond.
With their notebooks and thick dossiers of paperwork set up, they adjust the camera on its tripod, so it faces me at a direct angle. The moment it starts to record, sweat begins to trickle down the back of my neck. I hold my shaking hands in my lap, hiding them from sight.
