The Sacrifice: A Dark Revenge Romance
The Sacrifice: Chapter 64

Ryat helps me get Luke into a chair, and we zip-tie him to it. I look up to see Kashton plop down in the pew next to my wife while Haidyn sits down in the pew behind her. Saint walks over to the other witness I had Ryat bring from Carnage.

He knocks the mask off Jackson, yanks him from the pew and drags him over to the Lords’ table. Hitting the back of his legs, Jackson falls to his knees, and he screams behind the ball gag in his mouth.

I slap Luke across the face, trying to get him to focus. The poor guy is dazed. “Wake the fuck up. You’re going to tell me what I want to know.”

“Fuck … you.” He spits out blood.

“Let’s start with the obvious. How I found your wife.” I grab Whitney’s hair, yanking her head back, and she looks up at me through her bloodshot eyes. “I found my wife sedated, tied to a hospital bed in a psych ward, and jaw wired shut. And you can believe my surprise when Whitney here entered the room. The only thing she was surprised about was that I was there. You said she had one job? I highly doubt that was all she did.”

Looking up, I see Haidyn sitting behind my wife, and I nod to him. He reaches around her and removes the Lord’s mask. Her watery eyes are on her sister. They meet mine, and she shakes her head, fresh tears rolling down her face. She doesn’t want to believe it.

“Yes, little darling.” I shove Whitney’s head down into the table. “Whitney knew where you were and wasn’t going to tell a soul where to replace you. But then again, a dead girl is meant to be forgotten. If you don’t know she exists, then she can’t tell secrets.”

Lake drops her head, her body shaking as she sobs behind the tape.

“Then we have Jackson here. He told me all kinds of information.” I leave it vague because I want Luke to sweat it.

“I’m not telling you shit.” Luke shakes his head.

I figured he’d be this way. That’s why I have Whitney here. Otherwise, I would have never let my wife see her sister was still alive. I kept her hidden, tied up in a cell next to Jackson’s at Carnage for this very reason for the past week. I didn’t want to break Lake this way, but I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect my wife. I had to weigh my options. And my wife’s safety will always win.

Removing the gag from Whitney’s mouth, she openly sobs, her body struggling in the rope. After I fucked my wife’s mouth in the cathedral at Carnage, I brought her here while I had Ryat bring Jackson and Whitney. I then sent the video and pictures to Luke from Whitney’s phone that I took of my wife. I had Ryat tie up Whitney the same way, making him think it was my wife when he arrived. All I needed was a second of surprise.

“Don’t you fucking say anything,” Luke yells at her. “Keep your mouth shut.”

She can’t right now over her sobbing, but I have something that will help her get under control. Removing my cell, I unlock it and turn on my wife’s collar that I had placed on Whitney.

She goes silent as her body shakes from the shocks. Turning it off, she sags the best she can in the tight ropes. I do it again and she tenses.

“I can do this all night,” I tell Luke, ignoring my wife yelling into her tape. “But I don’t need to.” Stopping it, I lower myself at the end of the Lords’ table to meet her eyes. “Were you going to sell my wife?” I ask.

She closes her eyes tightly, and I grip her face, squeezing it as hard as I can, knowing it’ll leave prints afterward. “YES!” she cries, and I let go of her.

“Fucking bitch…”

I punch Luke, cutting him off. My wife’s face is white, drained of all color, and her big, beautiful tear-filled eyes are on mine.

“Please let me go,” Whitney begs. “Please—”

I pull out my knife and hold it to her neck. “Let you go?” Laughing, I shake my head. “You were going to sell my pregnant wife, and you think I’m going to just let you walk away?”

She gasps.

“Thanks for that, by the way.” I smile at Luke. “She’s giving me twins.” I turn back to Whitney. “You took her away from me. And you must pay for that. Nobody takes what’s mine and walks away.”

“Please!” She shouts, “Lake—” Whitney tries to look over at her out of the corner of her eyes, but she can’t see my wife with how she’s positioned. “Please, don’t let him do this to me.”

“My wife can’t help you,” I say truthfully. Lake could beg, cry, and plead with me, but this is one thing I’d never give her. It’s also another reason I made sure she couldn’t speak. “You will die here like the fucking bitch you are.”

Pressing the knife into her neck, she rushes out, “Ashtyn.”

The Cathedral falls eerily silent, and I look over at Saint, who is already heading straight for us. I step back, and he takes the knife from me, flipping her onto her back. She screams as the hogtied position smashes half her folded body underneath her on the Lords’ table. He wraps his hand around her throat and pins her down. The knife now pressed into the side of her face.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he growls.

She tries to catch her breath. “Ashtyn … I know where she is.”

He squeezes her throat so tight it cuts off her air, and she flops around the best she can.

“Bullshit,” he spits out, pushing the tip of the knife farther into her face, breaking the skin.

Her face is turning blue, her lips white. The struggle starts to lessen, and I place my hand on Saint’s arm. His wide and wild eyes meet mine. “I want her dead, but just in case she knows something useful, she’s better alive for now.”

He lets go of her throat and removes the knife, stepping back. She rolls onto her side and gasps for breath. “If you’re lying…”

“I’m not,” she cries. “I promise.” She’s choking out sobs.

We both look over at Luke, and he’s staring straight ahead. He gives her away. The fact that he hasn’t said anything means he knows the truth. Whitney isn’t lying.

Haidyn gets everyone’s attention as he jumps up from the pew behind Lake, walks down the aisle, and slams the double doors open when he leaves.

I look over at Kashton and he’s staring at Whitney, face white as a ghost.

“Even if we found her today, we wouldn’t be able to collect her,” Saint had said to me in their office at Carnage. “The guys aren’t ready. She’d be dead in a matter of hours.”

I step into Saint. “You can take Whitney with you. Get whatever you need out of her when you’re ready.” I owe the Spade brothers for what I cost them.

His eyes meet mine. “I’ll make sure the punishment fits the crime,” he says, referring to the part she had in my wife’s life. “And after we get what we want from her, she’ll be dead. Like she’s supposed to be.”

I nod, stepping away from the Lords’ table.

Whitney starts to scream, her shrill cries making my ears ring. “LAIKYN! Help me. Please.” Saint picks up the gag next to her head. “No. No. Please, Laikyn. Please help me. They’re going to kill me—”

Saint shoves the gag into her mouth, and I hold her head up, helping him, while he buckles it in place so tight, the leather digs into her cheeks. He then picks her up, grabbing the rope that ties her ankles to her shoulders, not giving two fucks if he breaks anything carrying her like that with her weight. “Grab Jackson,” he barks out to Kashton.

We discussed earlier that he would take him to Carnage. I no longer have Blackout where I would torture men in the basement. I don’t want anyone at our home, and I can’t stay here at the cathedral forever.

Kashton grabs Jackson but remains silent, following Saint.

“Your turn,” I say, facing Luke.

Ryat places what I want in my hand, and I shove it into his mouth before he can fight me. I fasten it behind his head and then push on the two metal pieces on either side, and it pries his mouth open wide. He thrashes his head, and I do it again. Each time it pushes his mouth open more and more to the point tears are running down the side of his face.

I yank the chair over to the pew that sits opposite of my wife. I plop down and look at Luke struggle to talk in front of me. “It doesn’t even matter why you did it. All that matters is that you did it. So…” Ryat hands me his backpack that he brought, and I remove what I need. Luke’s wide eyes go from mine to Ryat. He mumbles unintelligible words around the metal gag, and I smile. “You took something from my wife. Now I’m going to take all of them from you.”

LAIKYN

I’m pulled to my feet, spun around, and the cloak is yanked over my head. My wrists are uncuffed and then the mask is removed. I wrap my shaking arms around myself. Strong hands turn me back to face the altar, and Tyson cups my face.

“Don’t touch me,” I shout, my body shaking uncontrollably.

“Lake,” he says tightly. “I know we have a lot to talk about.”

“Talk?” The word knocks the wind out of me. “Talk about how my dead sister is alive.”

Tyson steps in front of me again, and I try to shove him out of the way, but he picks me up and spins me around in his arms, carrying me up the aisle he once forced me down. “Put me down!” I scream just as he sets me on my feet at the end by the double doors. “What did you do?” I demand, punching his chest. “What did … you do?” I begin to cry, my legs trying to give out on me, and he wraps his arms around me to hold me up. I’m crying so hard that I’m choking.

My eyes catch sight of Luke barely breathing, head hanging forward, and all the blood that drips from his open mouth and onto his shirt.

Then I feel it. The bile starts to rise in my throat. My chest heaves, and I begin to gag. Tyson yanks me over to a trash can. Grabbing my hair, he grips it tightly while I wrap my hands around the edge and vomit into it.

It’s like the day at the hospital when I found out she died all over again. I dry heave for a few seconds, and then I push off the trash can. He lets go of my hair, and I fall to my ass by the doors, pushing my body into the wall. I bring my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “You knew she was alive,” I whisper, rocking back and forth.

“Lake.” He kneels in front of me, forearms resting on his jean-clad thighs. “Little darling.”

“Don’t call me that.” I whimper, tears stinging my eyes. “It’s all been a lie,” I say, more to myself than anyone else. “Why?”

“Listen to me, Lake,” he says calmly.

My eyes are on his hands in front of me as they rest on his thighs. It’s not the blood that covers them, but his silver wedding band that makes me want to vomit some more.

“Your sister—”

“You knew?” I can’t help but ask. Fresh tears sting my eyes, and it blurs my vision. I thought he killed her, and now I replace out he knew she was never truly dead. Why lie to me? Or why would he let me think he killed her when he knew she was still alive? I don’t understand. It doesn’t matter, he handed her over to the Spade brothers. They will torture her for whatever information they think she has about Ashtyn. I’ll never see her again. She was right in front of me, and now she’s gone. “You knew all this time that she was alive?”

“No. I suspected but never knew for sure,” he answers and reaches out to me.

I pull away, but he grips my arm and yanks me to my feet. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? Any possibility of her being alive would have been better than knowing she was dead.”

He frowns as if that thought never crossed his mind.

“Is that why you married me?” I demand, pulling myself free of his grip.

“What?” he barks out, getting equally angry.

“Because you wanted to make her jealous?” I’ve been trying to figure out why he married me. This has to be the reason, right? So it would get back to her, and she’d come running to him? That’s why he kept her from me.

He glares at me, jaw sharpening. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why did you marry me?” I shove his chest. “It was because of her, wasn’t it?” I’m shouting, my body vibrating. I knew there was a reason, and she must have been it.

He reaches into his pocket and removes a cell phone, shoving it into my hand. “What … whose is this?” I ask, sniffing.

“Look at the messages,” he commands.

My shaking fingers open the first one, and I gasp when I see it’s a picture of me. I’m at the house of Lords party, sitting at the table with Tyson, Ryat, and Blakely. Sin and Ellington had gotten up to go greet a friend of theirs. “I don’t understand,” I whisper.

“This is Whitney’s cell phone,” he tells me.

“No.”

“Fuck, Lake.” He yanks it from my hands. “How much proof do you need?” He shows me another picture of me working at Blackout. “She sent the pictures to your phone.”

“She couldn’t have,” I argue even though I see one of the same pictures I had seen on my phone. “My father gave me…” I trail off, my watery eyes meeting his, and his face softens.

Cupping my cheek, he whispers, “I’m sorry, little darling. I wish it wasn’t true.”

“My father knew.” My voice cracks.

“I went through her phone.” He speaks softly. “The day of our wedding, Luke contacted her, informing her that I was marrying you. She was here within a matter of days.”

I wrap my arms around my shaking body.

“I tried, Lake. I tried to get tabs on her. To get ahead of it, but they were very quiet. I had men on Luke twenty-four seven, tracking him, and they never made contact with one another.”

“You said they’re married.” I frown. “How could he have married me if he was already married to her? I don’t understand.”