Fighting Dreams Ch 10 Alt Ending

Author's note:

This is the ALTERNATE ending to the series, and it's more sadistic than Seth.

Trigger/kink warnings are in effect for more than one character's death, bondage, blood, mind control, drugging, and unhappy endings.

Chapter 10(b): Coming Home

What the fuck is going on?

Why am I here?

Sitting up, I reach to click on the lamp on my side table. As light floods the room in its golden glow, I stare into the mirror of my vanity. An envelope is tucked into the frame with my name in Sharpie across the front. Beside it, a glass of water and a bottle of medication wait.

"Take two"

reads the note on the medicine bottle. I do as it bids then take the envelope down.

Is he fucking with me? But this isn't his style... and that's not handwriting I recognize either.

The back of the envelope has the words

Back of the Door

and an arrow. Following the arrow's point, I look to my door where another note waits and with it a bag.

"Shower first. Then Dress. Join us in the living room when you finish."

For the first time in months, I shower by myself. But it's not relaxing. Some part of me expects him to come bursting in at any moment. Any of them could; I have no idea who is waiting on the other side of the door.

I dress in the purple cashmere sweater and jeans, rolling back the sleeves to keep my hands free. There's a bandage around my right elbow with a piece of gauze. I leave it for now; I can't remember why it's there and I'm not sure I want to look.

What kind of sick game is he pulling?

Then I stall, sitting at the vanity to brush out my heavily tangled hair and shakily braid it. Staring in the mirror is hard; my cheeks seem too sharp and my eyes have dark rings under them. The slender scar remains against my cheek; a reminder that the nightmare I have endured was real.

Habit makes me dab concealer over it until it's invisible and line my lips with ruby lipstick.

I try to focus, try to get a feeling of the blackness but there is nothing that comes through. I served the client, I felt weird and..... Nothing. I don't know how I got here, and I'm not sure why I'm here.

The envelope in my hand feels thicker; as I sit there I debate for just one moment before pulling out the stack of papers. It's a contract. From four years ago. My contract. But the numbers are all wrong. It's for half of what it should be, and these deposits are nearly double what I expected to be paid off.

I turn the papers over in my hand, looking for some sign that they aren't real. Looking for a hint that they're doctored or just some joke. Nothing stands out.

The confusion makes my brain feel muddy. Stuck on what these damn papers mean. The anxiousness of who is waiting out there. But if I want answers, then I can't hide away.

Stepping out of the room, I freeze as four sets of eyes turn to me.

Alexander...Regulus...Dream... and Slate.

"Have a seat," Dream says.

"Where's Marissa?" I ask, looking between the group of them nervously.

"She's safe, but she's asleep still," Slate answers. "You can see her later."

"What's going on? I don't understand."

"You wouldn't," Alexander replies, steepling his fingers. "We did it intentionally to protect you and Marissa. You can't lie if you don't know."

Assets have to be protected.

"The basics, darling, is that some of my Ten weren't doing their jobs," Dream says, leaning forward in his chair. "And when it came to my attention that they were playing dirty with Martinez, I decided I would root them out."

"

Your

Ten...?" I echo as my eyes widen.

"Devon is the Shadow King of the House," Regulus explains. "King was his second."

I hate it when they break my rules... and I always make them pay for it.

"Then you knew King was in bed with Seth... and Black too," I piece together.

Dream's eyebrow twitches; he's clearly surprised I know that much. "Yes indeed, sugar. It's not the first time he's stolen a slave from me, but it was certainly going to be the last. His practices cost me nearly six million the year before you came to us. So you were set up exclusively to be trained by Regulus for that very reason. I was not going to risk one of his getting you until all the dominos were in place to pull the trigger on him."

Obey Master, and then the House.

"Your set up at the cafe was expected to happen eventually," Regulus adds after a moment. "But you were protected from that scenario until it was time."

We all hate a traitor.

The feeling in my chest is like molten iron. The more they talk the more the heat in my chest grows as my temper builds with the aching pain. My hands squeeze my legs tighter. "So what... you tortured me with a Show and Rotation so you could bait him?"

"In essence," Alexander replies bluntly. "But it served a secondary purpose to ensure you survived the encounter. Stripping you down to that state made it so that you wouldn't fight what you came across and potentially be killed. Seth's clients have permission to kill in the face of disrespect, even if it's monetarily discouraged."

My mind drifts to Sarah.

Is that what happened to her?

My mind flashes to the bang, and the screams that echoed down the hallway.

I can barely process everything that's unfolding. I feel my heart beating hard against my ribs; the room seems entirely too small as I step back from them.

I need to get out of here.

"Jazzy...." Regulus calls, slowly getting up to his feet. "Jazz look at me."

They're just as bad as he is.

My steps keep retreating until I've backed into the door. My fingers try the handle; it refuses to open. The moment of strength gives out, I slide down its unyielding surface as the realizations slowly sink in.

"You sold me off knowing what he would do to me..." I whisper, feeling pain start to blossom in my chest as the tears well.

"Yes, pet. Unfortunately so," Regulus says softly. "But he will never own anyone again, and he will never be able to harm anyone ever again."

I can remember them. Destiny, Sarah, Laura, Isis...even Annabelle. Their tears as they came out in the mornings. The days wrapped up only in each other. The blank horror of getting ready each night knowing that there was the possibility of not coming back. The isolated haze which made it impossible to process.

They let me sit in silence, digesting the information numbly. It doesn't make anything better, even if I understand.

I'm just a piece of property. Something for them to use.

Curling up into a little ball, I put my forehead against my knees. "You're sure he's gone?"

Slate's answer is coldly controlled as he folds his arms. "Yes. Regulus made sure of it."

There's a chiming sound; he looks down at his phone and leaves quickly. The others just watch him leave in silence. It's Regulus who speaks next.

"This is all the information about your account, severance payment, and the deposit of what Seth made off you," he says, setting the folder of documents on the table. "We can go over it later. I think you have enough on your mind for the moment."

"Thanks," I reply hollowly.

"It's important that you rest, physically and mentally over the next few weeks," he adds. His expression shows concern, but I don't know how much I believe any of this. "You've been through a lot."

"Reg will be here if you need him," Dream adds as he gets up. "But for now, darling... sleep."

Given the out, I all too happily retreat back to my room. The documents are set on my nightstand; I don't want to see them. I don't want to think about any of this. I flop on my bed and try to follow Dream's advice.

But even when the moon sits high at its peak, I can't sleep. Every time I try it's a different nightmare. Sometimes it's Sarah's screaming. Other times I see King drowning me or feel how Seth sold me.

The cold sweats, and the furious beating of my heart is too much to handle.

I roam my room for hours, looking at pictures and trying to fight the rising tide of emotions. I don't know what to do with myself. So I do the only thing that feels normal.

The Basement beckons, a place that is so familiar that I don't have to think to exist in it.

I dress like any of the girls in a sparkling black dress that shows off my legs and a pair of spiked heels. A quick slip of Reg's keycard from the counter and then I'm headed down to the club.

I've managed to coax three drinks off a newbie bar hand before a familiar pair of dark hands wrap around my waist and pluck the fourth from my fingers. He has Reg's card off the counter with ease before I can grab it.

"You are supposed to be resting, sweetheart," Dream growls. "Not down here drinking with the delinquents."

"I can do what I want," I snap in reply.

It's too familiar to that dominating tone he used to unleash; I can feel my mind wanting to yield under it but the pain that lingers from their revelation keeps the flame of anger hot.

He spins me on my seat before I can take a breath; his eyes are hard and cold when I face him head-on. "Not here you can't, sweetheart," he warns. "Do I need to punish you for being reckless? Or should I tell Reg you're going back to your old habits?"

"You wouldn't dare," I whisper. "I'm not a slave. Not anymore."

"Try me and you won't sit for a week," he replies icily. "Go back upstairs, darlin' or I'll call Regulus to come get you."

"No."

Those dark eyes are furious, exasperated with my answer. His arms cage me as he leans closer. His tone sits heavy, unrelenting as his grip as he invades my space. "Why are you here, Jazzy?" he asks.

"Is it so bad that I'm here?" I answer stubbornly, pushing on his chest to back him off. "Maybe you all broke me a little too well."

Dream refuses to budge; his hand collects my wrists with ease and locks them in place at his hip. "I won't let anyone collar you tonight, Darlin'. Nor are you permitted to serve in your current state."

"Why not?" I snap. "Am I not useful anymore?"

His eyes narrowed; his lips a thin line. The panther in him is a minute from taking my head off my shoulders; the tension in his body seems to make him bigger. "No, little

slut

," he growls. "Because you aren't mine to give away. No matter how much I would love to take you from him, you belong to Regulus. You always have."

"Until that changes, you have no place here."

"These people will tear you to shreds, little lamb, and if you stay, I will let them. I'll feed you to them with all your fears. If you want so badly to self-destruct, darlin', all you have to do is ask and I'll tear what's left of your mind apart until you don't know your own name yet alone his."

The edge in his soft words slices through my anger; the malevolence of his aura so close can't be shaken off so easily. For a moment, Seth's face flashes across my vision and I flinch as the dark fingers reach up to lightly stroke across my cheek. Any words I had are frozen, dry on my tongue.

He chuckles, but there is no warmth in the sound. The Nightmare steps back, leaving a physical void to swallow me with his words. "Now,

darlin'

. Go home."

Numbly, I slip into the shadows and away from him. His gaze chases me to the door; the shadows seem to haunt my steps back through the hallways.

Wrapping up in the blanket on my bed, I stare out the window at the lights until my eyes finally sink into a fitful sleep.

The next day? I don't get out of bed.

My body feels leaden; my eyes stare at the window. There's nothing I have to do, and right now, there's nothing I want to do either. I just... can't.

Reg checks on me a few times. He brings me water to sip on and some toast for breakfast; both go untouched.

When the afternoon comes around, he sits on the edge of the bed and gently strokes my hair. For a while, there's only silence between us; the lines between his eyebrows stand out as he stares at the floor.

"I remember the beginning..." he murmurs. "The day you showed up in my apartment. You'd run for almost three miles to get to me. You begged me, pleaded with me to protect you from him."

"I utterly, horrifically failed at the one thing you asked of me... I was too selfish to give you up and too confident that Devon wouldn't do it. And at the time, I didn't have the money to buy you outright. Not with nearly a half million on the line. So I took his deal."

You could have told me.

His fingers run through his hair, the stress pours from him. "Devon was adamant. You'd already survived Seth once; he knew you would be able to survive him a second time. So when you were called in.... That was that. You were out of my hands; there was

nothing

I could do about it."

But did you try?

"I tried to help, Jazz. I risked everything to see you when I could. But The House is his chessboard. Everyone's a pawn no matter how high their rank. And everyone has to fulfill their role, whether they like it or not...."

Then why am I the one who paid for it all?

"When Dream found out I was opposing his game, he set the mandate... break you, properly, or he would let Black do it. I hated it, Jazz. But, seeing you breaking at the seams, I couldn't put you through more pain than was necessary."

I have no words for that revelation; the words are raindrops against an ocean of apathy.

But you did anyway. You knew what he was going to do. Why didn't you get me sooner?

He sighs heavily. "I tried Jazzy. After the Auction, I purchased your contract from the House entirely. Then with Alexander and Slate, we started going after Seth. It seemed like every time we had a lead it'd be a dead end. But things became more complicated when Black used the distraction to sell Marissa out from under Slate. Devon eventually started bankrupting him by stealing clients and spreading the news of what he was doing."

"When he was desperate enough, Alexander managed to get a reservation. Seth knew of his sadistic tendencies and figured he'd be in a league with Black," he explains. "He didn't count on the three of us arriving."

"When I saw you... I can't explain what happened. I don't remember it. I can tell you that I left you with Alexander, and I went after Seth. When I found him...he died there."

His eyes are lined with exhaustion; his hand has curled into a fist without him seeming to realize it. "Things moved quickly after. Alexander had already put you out by that point, but you crashed twice. We had to take you to the hospital to try and reverse some of the damage from the drugs he'd been pumping you with. When you stabilized two days ago, they finally let you come home. And now..."

His sentence lingers but he doesn't complete it. No, he just puts his hands in his lap.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't know if you want to see me or not. But it's entirely up to you what happens from here. While I own your contract, what you do... is up to you. Giving you that much is the least I can do."

Silence hangs. Right now, I don't have the energy to make that decision or enforce it. So I don't care.

He walks out and leaves me stuck in the gray fog of my apathy.

Nothing can move me from my room.

Not the lure of food, nor the sound of others talking. I know that Marissa comes by once. I think that Destiny probably does too. But I don't want to see any of them. I don't want to do anything. I just want to be left alone.

Reg visits me in my solitude. But I have no words for him either.

I can hear them talk about me. I ignore them. I don't want to be part of the world. I want to be broken, and I'm happy in my state of numbness. So there I stay, wrapped in my blankets, only moving when my joints protest or I have to pee.

It's Destiny who kicks my ass out of bed several days later.

Literally. Physically. Forcefully kicks me out of it with a bucket of ice water and a pair of size ten designer boots.

"For the love of fucking god girl... have you seen yourself? Fucking hell have you

smelled

yourself?" she growls as I glare at her. "Shower. Let's go. You are not damn well going to waste away like a corpse in here. Move it!"

She, with Marissa's help, shoos me into the bathroom and then ensures I get thoroughly clean.

When I'm wrapped in my towel, they make me sit down at the vanity until they've brushed my hair out into its waves from the matted mess it was. I smell like an orange juice farm from the hair products, but I do feel a little better.

"Thank you," I murmur.

"Don't thank me yet," she warns. "We're not done. You're coming out with us."

"But-"

"No buts. Reg said so," M says firmly. "You need to get out for a bit."

I guess that settles it then.

One fresh sundress, a sun drop necklace, and one pair of wedge sandals later, the three of us head Downtown to Luigi's Pizzeria. The food smells heavenly, and it tastes even better when the fresh Hawaiian is delivered. I dive in with the others. After two or three days of not eating, I need the food.

It's easy to open up with them and laugh over the ridiculousness of fashion and the ads on the old TV. Everything kind of slips away in the bubble of the restaurant.

I'd forgotten how nice it feels to be with people. I've missed the sun on my skin and the casual laughter between friends. Even Destiny is easy to include; she shares about her trips abroad with M and her love for fashion with me.

It leaves me a little warmer, like some of the sun's drops have finally started to seep into my skin once more.

All too soon though, the sun is starting to set.

Destiny drives us back to the House. She's been staying with Alan in the apartments while she's been looking for her own. Apparently, Dream also offered her a position as a House secretary; if she accepts, she'll be taking over the front desk.

Marissa walks with me to the elevator, but before we go up together, Slate comes down. A tilt of his head, a gentle clasp of her hand and he takes her out of the lift to the lobby floor. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted in question to his slight smile.

"Excuse us, Jazz... Marissa has an appointment," is the only explanation he offers.

I stare after her, wondering what appointment might be at nearly eight o' clock in the evening, but given her smile, I let it go unasked. The doors close and up, up, up I go.

I head into the golden glow of the living room where Regulus waits in an armchair. His eyes are brooding; his fingers locked as they do when he's deep in thought. His tone intercepts me as I turn to retreat down the hall to my room.

"Sit," he orders.

Hesitating, I walk back to the living room and sit across from him on the couch. My legs curls close to my hips automatically. Displeasure rolls from him, but it's restrained.... For now.

"Did you have a nice time?"

I nod cautiously. "Yes."

"Good." But for his opinion, it doesn't seem to lighten the intense focus in his eyes. I feel like I'm being examined under the microscope; his expression remains serious. "Dream told me about your... attitude... issue down in the Basement."

Fuck.

I swallow thickly. But offer neither excuse nor reason; what would be the point? He probably knows all.

"If you need control,

pet

, you only have to ask," he warns softly. "And after your dissociation the last few days, you no longer have a choice. Until I'm satisfied you can be trusted to take care of yourself again, I'm going to put you back under my leash. I had thought the House might serve as a comfort; it's apparently only done the opposite. You're going home."

His gaze may as well be obsidian; the dark eyes shine but remain unyielding. "You have two minutes to grab anything you feel you will need, Jazz, the rest will be shipped within the week. Understood?"