Chapter Five – No Hell like Home
Avery's breath hitched, a jagged shard of ice stabbing deep into his chest as Augustus Salvatore Genovese loomed closer. The velvet-draped VIP room of the Red Light Exclusive Bar, once deafening with whispered deals and clinking glasses, now felt like a tomb. The air thickened with the suffocating mix of expensive cologne, liquor, and something far colder—him.
Avery's knees buckled. He sank to the floor, crouching low, trembling as if the shadows themselves could shield him from the man who owned them all.
Those eyes.
Icy blue. Sharp as shattered glass. Piercing straight through flesh and bone, ripping away every pretense of safety. Eyes that haunted Avery's nightmares since Ivy Coast High and followed him ever since, where they had first carved his soul into submission.
Now, they promised something worse.
Augustus's polished shoes clicked against the black marble floor with unhurried precision as he closed the distance, every step a death toll in Avery's mind. He stopped just close enough for his shadow to fall over him, swallowing Avery whole.
He crouched, lowering himself to Avery's trembling height. A gloved hand brushed a loose strand of strawberry-blonde hair from Avery's face, deceptively gentle. When Augustus spoke, his voice was low, smooth—velvet wrapped around barbed wire.
"Do you want me to save you?"
The question slid into Avery's ear like poison. It wasn't mercy. It wasn't even kindness. It was a test, a trap lined with sharp teeth.
Avery's golden-brown eyes darted around the room, panic gnawing at his insides. The men in tailored suits, their lecherous smirks frozen in place, now looked like statues—silent, pale, terrified. Joshua, usually dripping with charm and confidence, had gone still beside him. His fingers dug into Avery's already bruised waist, claws of possession and warning.
The silence roared louder than any scream.
Avery's heart pounded so hard against his cracked ribs it felt like it would shatter bone. He knew exactly what awaited him if Augustus walked away. The deal would continue—the men would drag him to a back room. Their laughter would echo off the velvet walls as they used him, tearing apart what little strength he had left.
And Joshua would watch.
And when it was done, Joshua's boots would slam into his ribs for daring to falter. For failing. For existing.
Could he survive another beating? Could he survive being torn apart again?
His breath hitched, tears pricking his eyes. His chest burned with desperation—every instinct screamed yes, begged for Augustus to rip him away from Joshua, to drag him out of this nightmare.
But then… another image clawed its way in.
Chains. Locked doors. The suffocating marble corridors of a mansion where every window had bars. Nights spent kneeling at Augustus's feet, praying for scraps of affection while his soul was carved hollow.
It wasn't freedom.
It was another prison.
A darker one.
He shook his head, hard enough to make the room spin. His voice was a whisper, so faint only the devil himself could hear.
"Don't save me… Augustus."
The words tasted like blood and betrayal on his tongue.
He shifted closer to Joshua—a desperate lie, clinging to the lesser of two evils. Maybe if he stayed, maybe if he played obedient, Joshua's rage wouldn't break him completely tonight.
But Augustus wasn't fooled.
The corner of his lips curled into a slow, sadistic smile—a predator savoring the moment a wounded animal tries to crawl away. Without breaking eye contact, he slid a gloved hand into his tailored coat and drew out a revolver.
It was a masterpiece of violence—black steel, polished to a mirror sheen, engraved with intricate silver patterns. A weapon forged only for Augustus Salvatore Genovese.
The click of the hammer cocking back echoed like thunder through the room.
Augustus didn't aim it at Joshua's chest.
He aimed it directly at his head. Anyone could tell he wasn't joking and he would pull the trigger firing a bullet to his head.
The entire room froze.
Even the hidden speakers stopped their low, sultry hum as if the bar itself bowed to his presence. The background music halted and the air around the room stilled as if scared to catch his eye.
Augustus's voice dropped, each word coiled tight with lethal promise:
"Let. Him. Go."
The tone wasn't loud, but it crawled beneath skin, wrapping around spines like barbed wire. It was a death sentence dressed as a command.
Joshua's body stiffened, confusion flickering in his eyes, fear dripping cold and fast. But still, his grip stayed locked around Avery's waist, nails biting deeper. His voice cracked as he spat out a desperate claim:
"He's mine. I bought him. Paid for him. He belongs to me!"
Silence followed.
A dangerous, suffocating silence that stretched on awkwardly.
Then, like a king descending onto his throne, Augustus lowered the revolver—not out of mercy, but because he didn't need it. He straightened and moved with deliberate grace, sinking into the plush leather chair opposite them.
He didn't need bullets to kill.
He was the bullet.
The air shifted as his men flanked him, silent and immovable, like gargoyles carved from stone and blood. The other dealers who'd gathered for Joshua's bargain didn't dare move. Greed had fled their faces, leaving only wide-eyed dread.
Augustus leaned back, one leg crossed casually over the other, revolver dangling loosely in his hand as though this entire scene bored him. His voice cut through the silence, calm yet absolute:
"How much is he worth?"
The question hung like an axe.
Avery's blood ran cold.
His head snapped toward Joshua, eyes wide, shimmering with pleading tears. Please… say no. Please… tell him I'm not for sale.
But Joshua didn't look at him.
Joshua didn't even hesitate.
"One hundred thousand dollars," he said flatly, as if discussing a car, a bottle of wine—anything but a human life.
Avery's stomach twisted violently, bile burning his throat.
Augustus didn't blink. He snapped his fingers once, and one of his men stepped forward, dropping a heavy black duffel bag onto the marble table with a thud that shook the room.
"One hundred. Billion. Dollars."
The words weren't loud.
They didn't need to be.
Joshua's hand peeled from Avery's waist instantly, reaching for the bag with starving greed like a hungry man.
And that was it.
That was all it took for Joshua to trade away the man he once swore to protect.
Tears welled and spilled, tracing hot paths down Avery's cheeks. Betrayal sliced deeper than any knife. The promise Joshua made long ago—I'll protect you, no matter what—crumbled into ash before his eyes.
"Be a good boy, Avery," Joshua muttered, voice detached, not even sparing him a glance like he didn't just sell him off. "Don't screw this up again. It's just business. Consider this… compensation for all your failures."
Each word was a slap, tearing away the last fragile thread of hope Avery had clung to. He didn't have to say anything because what was left to say?
A sob clawed out of his chest, raw and broken.
Augustus rose, his movements slow, deliberate—like a lion stretching before striking. He extended a pale, gloved hand toward Avery.
It looked like a lifeline.
But Avery knew better.
It was a noose.
Still trembling, fingers shaking uncontrollably, Avery reached out and brushed that cold hand. The moment their palms met, Augustus yanked him forward—not violently, but with unshakable force.
Avery stumbled into his chest, caught in an embrace that felt less like safety and more like the bars of a cage snapping shut around him. Augustus's other hand came up, fingers curling around the back of his neck, pulling him close enough that his lips grazed Avery's ear.
"No one," Augustus whispered, voice soft, tender even—but beneath it burned a fire that promised nothing but ruin, "no one can love you like I do."
The words sank into Avery's bones like chains, coiling tight, branding him once again as property of the devil.
Joshua had sold him.
But Augustus had never stopped owning him.
Avery's tears soaked the devil's immaculate suit as he followed him out of the room.
And with each step, one truth carved itself deeper into his mind, a mantra he could never escape:
They were right when they said there's no place like home.
But for Avery…
There was no hell like home.