Kassen.
I shuddered.
After tonight, that was not my name.
All of us Fable kids would choose new names. Names that weren’t chosen from books under the fierce instruction of Storymaker.
I couldn’t even remember what I’d been called before I belonged to him.
Kassen Sands was a character in a book full of fables about genies and wishes and deserts. He’d been the poorer cousin to a prince. He’d used his wishes to help his village members, wishing for water, food, and health. He hadn’t wished for riches for himself or to be king over his cousin. His heart had been good and he’d helped all those around him—even his enemies.
In return for his sacrifice and kindness, the genie had given him the greatest wish of all.
Happiness.
Kassen Sands was granted a house of his own, a wife, a child, a home.
He lived the rest of his life in peaceful joy.
I would never be so lucky, but perhaps, if I did what he did and focused on saving those I could, I would end up in heaven instead of hell.
“Take off your clothes, Kas,” Mr. Willby snapped. “I need your tight ass and my wife needs your talented tongue.”
I hid my shudder, my absolute disgust, and nodded like a good little slave.
Pulling my T-shirt over my head, I stepped toward the bed, ignoring the way Mrs. Willby’s eyes raked over my nineteen-year-old chest. I’d been their toy for almost half my life. They’d seen me grow from boy to man. They’d seen more of me than any parent I’d ever known.
And tonight, they’ll die.
Mrs. Willby shifted onto her knees, coaxing me forward with a wriggling finger. “My, my, you’ve filled out in the past three months since I last saw you.”
I didn’t flinch as she ran her pink-painted fingernail from my throat to my belt.
I didn’t kill her as she cupped my flaccid cock through my jeans.
“Ah.” She tutted under her breath. “Well, now, that’s disappointing, I thought you’d learned to come to us hard, Kas. We have no time for foreplay when we’ve been so eager to fuck our darling boy.”
“Here.” Mr. Willby grabbed his wallet from the side table, throwing a small packet of blue pills at his wife. “Feed him one of these. I want an all nighter. He needs to be out of his head with lust.”
“Oh, good idea, Donny.”
My heart kicked.
No way would I be able to commit genocide tonight with a chemical hard-on. Giving myself time to put my plan into action, I gave her a slow smile. “That won’t be necessary, Patricia.”
She blinked.
The first time I’d used her given name after countless years of her fucking me. Her cheeks pinked as if she liked it. Just as much as she liked me rutting into her in agony all while her husband whipped me, cut me, fucked me.
You’ll pay. Christ, you’ll all pay.
“I’m hard now.” I licked my lips, letting my eyes hood the way she liked. “Here, I’ll show you.”
She nodded quickly. “Oh, yes. Yes, show me. Show me what toys I’ll be playing with tonight.”
Swallowing fresh bile, I unbuttoned my jeans and let them fall. I kept my legs close to the bed to catch the blade as it slipped down with the denim.
Mr. Willby sucked in a breath from behind me, no doubt jacking off to the scars he’d layered me with. The many moments of pain he’d carved into my skin while I’d driven into his wife.
He couldn’t see my weapon.
They both never suspected I’d break from my extensive conditioning.
And why would they?
After so long, they’d all bought Storymaker’s claims that we were happy in our roles. That we no longer needed extra discipline. That we hadn’t tried to uprise or refuse in years.
And he was right.
It shamed me to my bitter soul that we only whispered about freedom in the dark but were too shit terrified to fight for it.
I supposed that was what happened when you’d been groomed since you were twelve. We were so grateful to have each other but so fucking afraid of what would happen if one of us stepped out of line.
We all paid the price.
All we had was each other.
And that was both a blessing and a curse.
Mrs. Willby blew me a kiss. “You’re so handsome, Kas. I think I’ll ask Stu about taking you home with us. I know he’s denied my request before but you’re older now. You need some life experience.”
I forced myself to smile, reaching for my weapon. “A change of scenery would be good.”
She beamed, flicking a disillusioned look at her beer-bellied husband. “I agree. It would be very good indeed.” Winking at me, she added, “Now, let’s play a game. I’ve missed you and you’ve made me rather eager.”
I shuddered, feeling the binds of conditioning, the constant need to protect my Fable family, the evil whispers in my head to submit, surrender, succumb.