Hunting Adeline

“I sit down on the cold metal bench, gritting my teeth against the pain, and train my feral gaze on Claire again. She stands right outside the doors, staring at me with a slight grin. Her tight red curls are glaring beneath the streetlamp, and for a moment, she appears innocent. She looks like a woman who has endured years of abuse in all forms and just wants to live a life in peace. But the mirage shatters and all I see is a woman who became everything she hates.”

A paradoxical element of the novel can be found in the fact that Carlton places two female characters, Francesca and Claire, at the forefront of the Society’s activities. In this passage, Zade watches Claire transform between a woman who has suffered and a woman who makes others suffer, posing a strange contradiction. Knowing what it means to be abused, Zade wonders how Claire can push the same suffering on other women.

“‘I want to take care of you, sweetie. I-I’ll treat you better than these people ever will. I promise I’ll be good to you.’ My mouth opens, but no sound escapes. The fuck does he expect me to say to that? Yes, please, whisk me away to your creepy lair. Nothing would make me happier. I want him to let me go home. Not into the arms of another creep that will trap me for the rest of my life.”

Garrison attempts to woo Adeline away from her imprisonment, but all he can offer is a different form of imprisonment. Garrison’s objectification of Adeline infantilizes her, and he treats her like a child who can be swayed with promises of toys or candy. For him, Adeline has no autonomy and should just go along with whatever he suggests.

“He turns to run, but my voice stops him cold. ‘Come here, Max.’ Slowly, he looks back at me, terror radiating from his eyes. There’s a particular stink to men who are faced with the consequences of their actions. They’re fucking petrified, but only because they know they’re going to die. And no matter what they believe in, they know damn well there isn’t any chance they’ll be led to those pearly gates.”

The critical element of Zade’s confrontation with Max is the idea of “a particular stink to men who are faced with the consequences of their own actions.” Zade’s reflections show his deeper understanding of the mentality of such abusers, who fail to fully acknowledge the ramifications of their own immoral actions. Zade’s suspicion that they know they are going to hell reveals his own innate belief in a Christian worldview and form of divine judgment; however, the novel also implies that he styles himself as an agent of divine justice in order to rationalize his own violent actions.

“She hisses and lets the shirt drop, circling back around to face me. ‘Is she on birth control?’ My brows furrow and I frown, wondering why she’s asking him and how the hell Rio would even know that. ‘Garrison said she has the IUD.’ Tears begin to build, and it takes effort to keep them at bay. It makes me want to vomit that I was violated like that. I had no idea he checked, which means he did it while I was unconscious.”

The discussion of Adeline in the third person highlights that she is not a part of a conversation that discusses intimate aspects of her anatomy, and the acknowledgement that Garrison examined her genitals introduces an additional violation. Adeline weeps because she is gradually being rendered into a passive object and is incapable of fighting back and standing up for herself. In this moment, she understands that she has to accept some degree of abuse in order to survive.

“For an indescribable amount of time, I stare at the wall. If my eyes even stray towards the dusty wooden floor, all I can see is an image of myself lying on the ground with Rocco mounted over me. I watch the desecration of my soul, like an out-of-body experience. Standing over the apparitions, unable to stop it from happening. Desperately, I attempt to train my thoughts on anything else—Zade or Daya—but the train derails every time, leading me back towards the beauty room. They’re merely ghosts haunting the hallways of my brain, and anytime I reach out to them, they only fade away.”

Adeline’s trauma immediately intensifies in Francesca’s house, and there is a distinct difference between Adeline’s reaction to Rocco’s actions and her previous reactions to Zade. In Haunting Adeline, Adeline fantasizes about Zade’s rough, dubious-consent sex acts, but Rocco’s assault forces her to withdraw, seeing herself as “desecrated.” This term was used in a positive light in the prior novel, but it now emphasizes her trauma.

“‘Then, you punch Rocco and break his nose. He wanted to punish you for it, and you know what she did? She took the punishment for you instead. That’s definitely never been done for any of us.’ 

My brows knit, confused as to why Francesca would do something like that. 

‘She’s giving you privileges that we don’t get because she thinks you’re special. Well guess what, diamond, I don’t think you’re special at all.’ 

Doesn’t really matter what you think, does it, bitch?”

Sydney exposes how the hierarchy within Francesca’s house operates on a tenuous camaraderie between the survivors. While Phoebe, Gloria, Jillian, Sydney, and Adeline are in the same position, any measure of preferential treatment destroys the illusion of solidarity, making them realize how alone they are in their predicament. In the end, Adeline accepts this reality by rejecting Sydney, musing that Sydney’s outlook does not matter.

“That’s such a good girl, little mouse. Open that pretty mouth and taste me…

You’ve been naughty, mouse. You like it when I punish you, don’t you?

I could eat you for days, and it would never be enough…

Fuck, baby, I’m so fucking addicted…

I jolt awake, and for one beautiful second, I thought I was back in Parsons Manor with Zade. Images of mismatched eyes and a wicked smirk clog my headspace, but the sudden movement lances sharp needles of pain throughout my skull. The memories dissipate, Zade’s deep tenor fading as the dull throb that radiates from between my legs feels like a curse that was cast by an evil witch—a curse that won’t let me forget.”

This passage directly contrasts the rough sex that Adeline had with Zade against the sexual abuse that she now faces in Francesca’s house. Though many of the words and actions are the same, the critical element is consent. Adeline consented (at least somewhat) to condone Zade’s behavior, turning it into a fantasy, but now, she does not consent to anything happening in Francesca’s house. Unlike the “throbbing” described in Haunting Adeline, the “throbbing” in this passage is a mark of abuse, and the “evil witch” is Francesca.

“I swing open my door and inhale my cigarette one last time before stubbing it on the ground with my boot. Stop littering. Yes, baby. I grab the butt and throw it in a little trash bag hanging in my car, the recyclable sack full of orange filters already.”

Just as Adeline imagines Zade’s voice encouraging her to remain strong and survive, Zade hears Adeline cautioning him against more mundane acts like littering. This contrast highlights the pairing between Adeline as a “normal” person and Zade as an “abnormal” person. Zade’s imagination conjures a suburban Adeline who pushes him to recycle, whereas Adeline’s imagination conjures an organized, criminal Zade giving her inside information to help her survive.

“‘You wouldn’t be able to, even if you wanted to,’ he whispers. ‘You wouldn’t be able to stand. Your legs would be shaking too badly from how hard I fuck you.’ A hand drifting across my backside accompanies his words. I close my eyes, searching for the strength to not tremble beneath his touch. To not run the hell away from him and pray to the She-Devil above that he never finds me. ‘Does that sound good, diamond? Do you think you’d even remember Z after I’m done with you?’”

Xavier’s obsession with making Adeline love him instead of Zade mirrors Zade’s behavior in the first novel, in which he consistently tells Adeline that she will fall in love with him over time despite his abuse. The critical difference between these two scenarios is that Adeline always wanted Zade to catch her, whereas here, she hopes that Xavier never finds her. Xavier sees Adeline only as an object, and her love is merely a prescribed behavior that he expects from that object.

“Xavier thinks I’ve given him nothing, but that’s not true. I’ve given him everything—he just finds no value in what he’s taken from me. The smooth, unmarked skin he mutilates. The fragments of my sanity that chip away with every brush of his skin, and every whispered omen of the day I will be his. My ability to touch and be touched without wanting to slit my throat open. My dignity, self-esteem, and the comfort within my body. My fucking worth. All meaningless.”

In this raw passage, Adeline highlights the consequences of trauma, framing Xavier’s abuse as a form of theft, stealing her sense of identity. Because she will not say his name, he claims that she has not lost anything, seeing her status as Zade’s “girl” as the only meaningful marker of her identity. However, Adeline reflects on how she used to see herself as beautiful and sexual, and she laments that Xavier has ruined this perspective and is fundamentally changing who she is.

“Piece by piece, we both crumble, the chips falling around us in a waterfall of anguish. And I just know that when Zade picks up our scattered pieces and stitches us back together, we’ll be forever entwined. He places soft but urgent kisses on any surface of my body within range. My head, cheeks, neck, and across my shoulders, while his hands roam mindlessly, heating my chilled skin, though it feels more like he’s worshiping. I don’t know how long we stay there, but eventually, my weeping dies down, yet Zade never stops holding me.”

The reunion between Zade and Adeline is distinctly different from their prior physical interactions. Zade is not rough or violent, and Adeline does not become aroused. Instead, he caresses her gently, comforting her even after she stops crying. Adeline recognizes this change, calling it “worshipping,” and she regains her faith that she can recover from her trauma. However, she places that responsibility on Zade, framing her recovery as “Zade picks up our scattered pieces,” when in reality, the recovery process will require Adeline to push herself as well.

“I’m all for pushing Addie’s boundaries, but this isn’t one I’m willing to. Despite my less-than-honorable methods with her in the past, the last thing I want to do is worsen her trauma. She’s been through enough; she doesn’t need another self-serving man taking something from her that she’s not willing to give. When she’s ready to accept me again, I can’t promise I won’t push her past her comfort zone and work to reawaken a part of her I’m sure she feels is lost. But that takes time and trust. And I’m a very patient man.”

Zade’s new perspective regarding Adeline’s trauma and their relationship reflects the work that he does with survivors of human trafficking and abuse. He recognizes the need for distance, but he also strategically pushes the boundaries that he knows are necessary to facilitate Adeline’s recovery. Though he essentially says they will return to the violent, dubious consent detailed in the first book, he settles for arousing Adeline in small ways, working to comfort her and give her space so that she can settle back into her own sense of self.

“Another two weeks have passed, and it’s a constant up and down battle. Turns out, one of the men did give me chlamydia, and it only cemented that feeling of filth ingrained deep in my bones. I cried, confessed my diagnosis to Zade, and then cried even harder when he was nothing but supportive. It’s been treated, but that lingering repulsion lingers, sinking its claws deep into my membrane. He’s probably used every word in the English language to assure me that I’m not disgusting or that he doesn’t see me differently, but it didn’t change how I viewed myself.”

Adeline’s fear of permanent, conceptual disfigurement comes true in the form of a treatable disease. The STD functions as a representation of Adeline’s own sense of self, in which she sees herself as infected, disgusting, or tarnished. Even though Zade is supportive, her self-loathing remains, showing how deeply the trauma affects her. However, like the STD, her trauma can be “treated,” and Zade’s support is part of that treatment.

“When he took me to the sanctuary a few days ago, it changed something in me. Seeing all those survivors getting better, working on healing, and seeing them shrouded in all kinds of happy vapors, it shifted something in my chest. It made me realize that’s what I really need. A goal—something to work toward that would genuinely make me happy. And now, I know what that is.”

As with many survivors, seeing the opportunity to speak out and help others becomes a major motivation for Adeline. Though she does not indicate that she wants to join Zade, her battle becomes both a personal struggle for revenge and a desire to prevent Claire, Xavier, and Francesca from hurting more women. The sanctuary shows Adeline a glimpse of what the world could be like without abusers, motivating her to remove abusers from the world as Zade does.

“‘I still feel attraction, ya know? Like every time he touches me, I want to enjoy it. I just can’t. He hasn’t even made any advances. Nothing sexual, but that’s where my head immediately goes, and then I’m right back in that house with Xavier.’ […] A sadness cloaks her sage eyes, and I can tell she’s anxious because she starts fiddling with her nose ring. ‘Yeah, he…saved me, too. From Luke.’”

Adeline’s internal struggle centers on her conflicting feelings of arousal and trauma, in which she cannot express herself sexually without being pulled back into memories of her abuse. Significantly, Daya expresses a similar struggle, noting that Zade saved her from Luke. Unlike in Francesca’s house, where the women could not bond over their shared trauma, Adeline and Daya can support each other, having both escaped their respective imprisonments.

“It was daunting to learn that Claire’s influence runs much deeper than we’d ever imagined. She has her hands in everything. Charities, hundreds of thousands of organizations and businesses, banks, big pharmas and the medical industry, the judicial system, and of course, the entire fucking government. It will take years to undo all the damage she’s done and erase her influence.”

This passage has two major implications within and beyond the novel. Within the novel, the discovery of Claire’s influence shows how vast the hierarchy of crime and trafficking is, emphasizing Claire as the primary antagonist. However, this mix of fields is also reminiscent of contemporary conspiracy theories, which Carlton has been accused of referencing and perpetuating. Specifically, the idea of a shadow government run by industry is a common theme in QAnon conspiracy theories, which repeat the baseless accusation that the Democratic party is engaged in child trafficking and sexual abuse, even though there is no evidence for their claims.

 “Nothing is off-limits down here, and I have to remind myself that this is consensual. This isn’t like when me and the other girls were punished together, a room full of naked bodies but several of us unwilling. For a moment, I stop to take it all in. Familiarize myself with sex that creeps along the edge of innately wicked yet brings nothing short of pleasure and desire. For everyone involved.”

Being in Supple reminds Adeline of the fact that sexuality can be a positive, enjoyable part of life. However, she must first reconcile the trauma of being forced into sexual activities, many of which are reminiscent of what people are doing consensually in the club. Consent is the key element, as in much of Carlton’s works, and it radically transforms all manner of sex acts, determining whether an act is one of abuse or pleasure.

“Like attracted to like—his darkness to mine. I was running from it while he was forcing me to see who I really am. Zade and I—we don’t make sense to the outside world. Barely even in my own head. Yet I’m finding it hard to care anymore. I won’t ever justify what Zade has done to me, but I do forgive him. Not only that, but I accept him. He told me before that he wanted me to fall in love with the darkest parts of him, and I have. Every fucked-up piece of him.”

Adeline essentially appeals to a supernatural link between her and Zade, and this dynamic is just one tactic that Carlton uses to excuse Zade’s behavior in the first novel. Adeline is consenting after the fact, attempting to reconcile the fact that Zade was sexually abusive to her, even though he is now supportive and loving. This rationalization also involves a critical change in Adeline, as she sees herself becoming more like Zade—a transition she attributes to his “darkness,” which she has now embraced.

“I tell her about the first person I killed, and she tells me about hers. A girl named Phoebe, who helped save Addie’s life, only to be forced to take hers in return. She cries while speaking of the girl with flaming orange hair, and the fear she carried in her bones except when it really mattered. In the end, she embodied the flames that hung around her shoulders.”

Though Zade’s first kill is not described, this moment allows Adeline and Zade to bond over the specific act of taking a human life, something that is generally considered taboo. This conversation sparks the extended moral discussion of Part 2, which questions when taking a life is acceptable. In this situation, Adeline’s justification for Phoebe’s death centers on her determination to respect the woman’s life and honor her memory.

“‘You’ve said it yourself, I could use your body for my own pleasure, but what’s one thing I could never take from you? What’s the one thing I wanted the most from you, Adeline?’ 

‘My love,’ I cry, tears welling and spilling over. 

‘That’s right. Your love. The only thing I’ve ever needed from you. You are the one with the power, you’ve just never known what the fuck to do with it.’”

In this passage, Carlton presents Zade’s reasoning for his abuses in an attempt to justify the character’s violent behavior in the first novel, framing his actions as “merely” physical. In this view, Adeline is “the one with the power” because she can withhold her love from Zade. However, this effort at reframing is inherently problematic, as is the paradoxical fact that Adeline embraces one abuser (Zade) while condemning others who have committed similar acts of violation against her. Ultimately, this contradiction is never fully acknowledged or resolved.

“‘She’s not the one that pulled the trigger,’ Zade barks, defending me. Huffing, he turns around and stares out his window, vibrating with fury. ‘This is your fault, too,’ he accuses snidely, directing it toward Zade. ‘The both of you. None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for your criminal boyfriend, Adeline.’”

William’s perspective is based on the premise that Zade pulled Adeline into the world of human trafficking, making her a target. However, blaming Adeline for her own abuse is illogical, as William implicitly suggests that Adeline should have accepted the abuses of trafficking rather than killing someone in order to defend herself. In this light, it becomes clear that William does not truly care about his daughter.

“He’s laughing at me, and I want to hurt him. Not with my fists, but with my words. I want him to hate me so he will understand what it feels like to hate someone so much, yet still crave them. For once, I want him to feel what I fucking felt when he forced his way into my life.”

Reflecting on Zade’s assertion of her “power,” Adeline tries to take away her love for Zade as a way to hurt him. For a moment, she agrees with William, seeing her love for Zade as an unhealthy obsession. However, this feeling is temporary, and Adeline remarks that she is trying to hurt Zade intentionally in order to push him away, not because she no longer loves him.

“‘Will it make you stay?’ he questions again. I turn my head toward him, training my glare on him, despite the cyclone of pleasure swirling deep in my stomach. Taking in my expression, the fucker has the audacity to smile. ‘You’re not asking if a baby will make me stay. You’re asking if I’d stay if you forced a pregnancy on me,’ I bite out.”

This passage reverses a common trope of women “trapping” men by getting pregnant, which, in theory, would force the man to remain in a relationship. Zade reverses the trope, but in the process, he reveals the inherent sexism and misogyny of sexual abuse regarding pregnancy. His threat to remove Adeline’s IUD by force, which is itself a gruesome suggestion, implies that he can abuse her, force her to become pregnant, then use that pregnancy as a “trap” to force her to remain with him. Again, this suggestion frames women as objects without agency, implying that Adeline would have no choice but to carry, deliver, and raise a child born from abuse. The scene therefore stands as one of many examples of the problematic dynamics that exist between the two main characters.