All Chapters of The Devil You Know : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

ELIJAH Cristian's grip on my arm was like a vice, his fingers digging into the bruises he'd already put there during the drag back through the sand. My bare feet scraped against the concrete floor as he hauled me down the hallway, the torn robe hanging off one shoulder, exposing my chest to the cool air. Every step sent jolts of pain up my legs from the cuts and blisters, but I didn't have the strength to fight anymore. The guards watched with smirks, one of them chuckling low as we passed. “Nice run, kid,” he said. I wanted to spit at him, but my mouth was too dry, throat raw from screaming. He shoved the door to the room open with his boot, the familiar stink of sweat and metal hitting me like a punch. This hellhole—the bed with its stained sheets, the single bulb flickering overhead, the chains dangling from the frame. I didn't want to be back here. No, fuck that, I couldn't be back here. “No,” I gasped, twisting in his hold. “Please, no..” Cristian laughed, a deep

ELIJAH My eyelids fluttered open, heavy as lead, the world swimming into focus through a haze of pain and disorientation. Every muscle in my body ached, a deep, throbbing reminder of whatever hell Cristian had put me through before I blacked out. I was chained to a cold metal table. Huh, that's new. I tried to shift, but the restraints dug deeper, sending jolts up my arms and legs. That's when I felt a sharp, stinging buzz right at my groin, like a swarm of angry hornets focused on one spot. My dick. Something was happening to my cock, a weird vibration mixed with fiery pricks that made my stomach twist. I blinked harder, forcing my vision to clear, and there he was. Cristian, hunched over me, his gloved hands steady as he wielded a tattoo gun against my most sensitive flesh. The needle hummed relentlessly, etching black lines into the skin of my shaft, right along the base where it met my balls. Ink bloomed in tiny dots, the pain radiating outward like liquid fire

ELIJAH When I woke up, it wasn’t the kind of waking that felt real. My body jolted before my mind could catch up, breath sharp, heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted out. For a moment, everything was a blur of pale light and shadows on a ceiling I didn’t recognize. My eyes moving frantically, scanning everywhere in horror. I sat up too fast. The air hit my face, cold and stale. My throat was dry, my head pounding. There was a weight in my chest, like I’d been holding my breath for days, and I didn’t even know why. Where the hell was I? The sheets were soft but rough at the same time, like hotel linen washed too many times. The room wasn’t familiar — cream-colored walls, a small window half-covered by thick curtains, a faint hum of air conditioning somewhere behind me. I turned, and that’s when I saw her. “Nora,” I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice. She was sitting on the bed beside me, her knees drawn up, arms loosely wrapped around them. Her head

ELIJAH I stood by the car, staring at the private jet waiting on the tarmac. The air was dry and heavy, the wind barely moving. I could hear the low hum of the engines even though they hadn’t started yet. My palms were sweating, but I wasn’t nervous—just hollow. The kind of empty that made everything around me feel too quiet, too slow, like I was watching my life play out from outside my own body. Nora stood a few feet behind me, her arms folded. Her face looked tired. We both were. She’d been the one constant these past weeks, and even now, she looked like she wanted to stop me but knew she couldn’t. “Are you sure about this?” she asked softly. Her voice almost broke. I didn’t look at her. I just kept my eyes on the jet. “Yeah,” I said after a long pause. “I think this is the next best thing to do.” Nora stepped closer, searching my face. “Eli, it’s been a month. Maybe he just needs time.” “Time?” I laughed quietly, shaking my head. “It’s been over a month, Nora. If And

ELIJAH I came down the stairs with my bag slung over my shoulder. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely keep hold of the strap. Mom was still crying, begging Dad to stop me, her voice trembling, cracking in ways I’d never heard before. “Isaac, please…he’s our son,” she said, gripping his arm. “Don’t let him walk out that door.” But Dad didn’t move. He sat there stiff, jaw clenched, eyes on the floor. Not even a glance in my direction. My throat burned as I reached the last step. I could hear the quiet, the TV still playing some morning report, but the room felt empty. “Dad…” My voice cracked. “Get out,” he said, his voice like a door slamming shut. Mom sobbed, turning to me. “Elijah, please, just…just don’t go.” I shook my head, forcing the words out past the lump in my throat. “He doesn’t want me here, Mom. It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. But what else could I say? I couldn’t keep begging someone who had already erased me. I walked to the door, opened it, a