LAVEY TURNED AND SAW WILL gripping the letter opener, the silver blade now stained red, trembling between the boy's fingers. The next strike came fast, slicing across the right side of his face like a hot knife through butter. A thick stream of blood ran down to his chin, and before he could react, a well-placed kick struck him in the groin.
The impact doubled him over, forcing a guttural groan from his throat. The punch that followed, landing on the top of his head, sent the world spinning like a runaway carousel. LaVey collapsed backward, the dull sound of his body hitting the floor echoing through the basement like muffled thunder.
Stunned, his heart hammering against his ribs, Will took several steps back. Terror climbed his throat. He ran toward the staircase, stumbling over his own feet, and shoved the trapdoor with all his strength, but the wooden hatch did not move an inch. He pushed again, then pounded it with his clenched fists, the echoes of the blows reverberating through the room like a silent cry for help.
It was locked.
The wood felt as solid as iron, and desperation began to consume his reason. He had to escape. He had to get out before that human demon got back on his feet.
He looked over his shoulder, and his blood ran cold.
LaVey was no longer on the floor.
He was leaning against the table, his face covered in blood, staring at him with a cold, ravenous gaze. His chest rose and fell like that of a wounded animal—yet one that remained deadly.
— Get down there and lock yourself inside that damned cell, he ordered, his voice hoarse and carrying an almost supernatural authority.
The command seemed to pierce Will's mind like a hypnotic suggestion. His muscles tightened against his own will. Without thinking, without resisting, he began descending the steps. Fear mingled with confusion—it was as though his body no longer belonged to him.
He did not fight.
He did not scream.
He simply obeyed, as though every trace of free will had been drained from him.
A puppet in the hands of a psychopath.
As the boy descended, LaVey staggered toward the staircase, bracing himself against the walls and leaving behind a crimson trail that marked the path of his fury. He climbed step by step, his body swaying, his blood-covered hands gripping the railing desperately.
When he reached the top, he placed both arms against the trapdoor and pushed with every ounce of strength he had left.
His face twisted in agony.
The veins in his neck bulged.
A roar escaped his lips.
A sharp crack echoed through the room, and a sliver of light pierced the darkness.
The hatch suddenly burst open.
Sunlight flooded the basement as though Hell itself had been granted a glimpse of redemption.
— All it needed was a little more force, boy... the door was jammed, LaVey muttered sarcastically, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
His gaze, however, remained cold and unwavering.
Will stood motionless, staring at the man as though he were looking directly at the Devil himself.
Then he remembered the combination to the first padlock.
If he could unlock it and somehow guess the second one, he might still have a chance.
It was a spark of hope amid the chaos.
— When I come back, we'll settle our accounts.
The words sounded like a sentence being handed down.
LaVey disappeared through the trapdoor, leaving behind only the distant sound of footsteps and the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.
Alone, the boy let himself collapse onto the floor.
His body trembled uncontrollably.
The tears came hard and heavy, each sob seeming to tear away a piece of his soul.
For the first time, Will felt that luck might be his only weapon.
And perhaps—just perhaps—it had not abandoned him yet.