Chapter 37 A Plaything
The sound of Ian’s stomach growling was the only thing breaking the silence in the pitch-black room. It was an echoing noise that bounced off the four damp walls, making the pit in Sebastian’s own stomach feel even deeper.
Sebastian had no idea how long they’d been down there. Without windows, time didn't exist. He only knew it had been days because his throat felt like it was filled with sand and his head wouldn't stop throbbing from hunger.
"Ian, are you still with me?" Sebastian asked. He tried to force his voice to sound steady, to be the older brother Ian needed, but it came out as a weak, raspy sound, instead.
Ian made a tiny noise of agreement. Then, the heavy rattle of chains clanged against the floor, followed by a heavy thud.
“Ian!” Sebastian yelled. He lunged forward, his wrists snapping back as the chains hit their limit. The metal bit into his skin, but he didn't care. He strained with everything he had to reach his brother. “Ian! Answer me!”
Silence.
Sebastian clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached. Guilt washed over him. He was the older one. He was supposed to be the protector, the shield. Instead, he was the reason Ian was collapsing in the dark. He had failed.
Unable to take the silence anymore, Sebastian turned his face toward the shadows where he remembered the door being.
“Dylan!” he screamed, his voice breaking. "Dylan! Damn it, I will do it! Whatever it is you want, I will comply!"
He waited, heart hammering against his ribs.
As if the man had been standing right outside the door the whole time, the lock clicked. The door swung open, and a flood of harsh yellow light poured in. Sebastian winced, his eyes stinging as they tried to adjust. The moment he could see, he looked at Ian.
His brother looked like a corpse. His lips were cracked and white, his skin a sickly, pale gray. Sebastian’s heart stopped for a second—Ian looked lifeless. But then, he saw the faint, shallow rise and fall of the boy’s chest.
Sebastian let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, his body trembling with relief. Ian was alive. Barely.
He looked up as Dylan walked down the stairs, a slow, satisfied smile stretching across his face. He looked like a man who had just won a bet.
“Finally,” Dylan said. “You’ve come to your senses.”
He walked over and grabbed Sebastian’s chin, forcing him to look up. “Oh, Sebastian. What fun we’re going to have.”
Sebastian had a grim idea of what that "fun" meant, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't afford to. Not with Ian dying three feet away from him.
“Just... leave Ian out of this,” Sebastian rasped. “Don't touch him.”
Dylan’s eyes lit up with a sick kind of amusement. “Sure.” He flashed a creepy smile.
Before Sebastian could say anything else, a wave of exhaustion and darkness crashed over him, and he slumped into his chains, losing consciousness.
When Sebastian woke up, he wasn't in the cellar. He was in bed. He scrambled upright, his head spinning, and immediately went toward Ian’s room.
It was empty. The sheets were perfectly tucked, as if no one had slept there in years.
“We’re keeping him somewhere else for now,” a voice said from the doorway. “To ensure your... collaboration.”
Sebastian’s hands balled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He turned to see Dylan leaning against the frame.
“What do you want?” Sebastian asked. He forced his voice to stay calm, even though he felt like he was going to vomit. He was weak and dizzy, but he refused to let Dylan see him shake.
Dylan walked into the room and leaned down until they were eye-to-eye. The man smelled like expensive tobacco and something rotten. “Simple. You... are going to join our play.”
A cold shiver raced down Sebastian’s spine. Disgust pooled in his throat. What kind of monster asked a child to be part of something so sick?
"I expect to see you tonight at eleven o’clock,” Dylan said, his tone turning flat and deadly serious. “Be there, or it’s your brother’s corpse you’ll be seeing next.”
"How can I be certain he is safe?" Sebastian demanded. His stomach twisted. What if Ian was already hurt? What if Dylan was doing to him exactly what he was about to do to Sebastian?
Dylan just shrugged, completely unbothered. “Ask the servants if you don't believe me. You’re friends with that butler’s kid, aren't you? Jordan?”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened. If Jordan knew, then there was hope. They were friends, and Sebastian knew that if he asked, Jordan would risk everything to tell him exactly where Ian was being hidden.
“But don’t bother trying to find him,” Dylan added. “Unless you want me to—”
“Enough,” Sebastian snapped. “I understand. Stop the threats.”
He didn't care what happened to him anymore. He would walk into a fire and would have traded his own life a thousand times over just to know his brother was safe and warm.
“Good. 11:00 PM,” Dylan said, and he walked out, leaving Sebastian alone with an anger that felt like boiling in his veins.
The day dragged on. Sebastian spent the hours staring at the wall, waiting for the clock to hit that cursed number. When the time finally came, his feet felt like they were made of stone. Every step toward the hallway was heavier than the last.
Finally, he reached the black door.
He pushed it open, and the scene inside was worse than anything he had imagined. His mother wasn't tied up this time. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, calmly smoking a cigarette, her eyes vacant and cold.
Across the room, Dylan was busy. He was laying out equipment—metal tools that caught the light—near another woman who was tied to ropes hanging from the ceiling. She was naked, shaking, her sobs muffled by a thick gag. Her eyes were wide with a terror that Sebastian felt mirrored in his own soul.
“Finally,” Dylan said, looking up with that same greasy smile.
Sebastian didn't look at the man. He looked at his mother, begging for some sign of the woman who used to love him. But when she looked back, her eyes were unrecognizable. There was no mother left in that room—only a monster.