The annex, once squat and destitute, has been rebuilt with reinforced concrete, doors heavy, windows narrow slits meant for containment.
The training facility is finally scrubbed from years of grime and neglect, and now bristles with upgrades—ballistic glass, training grounds surrounding it, an aura of brutality sharpened rather than dulled.
Max parks us in the underground garage beneath HQ, casts another concerned look at Scarlett, but wisely says nothing. He follows me up to my new apartment, setting the cat carrier with the furious, hissing creature beside my door, and then leaves.
Scarlett’s light as a feather in my arms as I open my apartment and cross the threshold. It’s far more complete, decorated, and ready to be inhabited. It’s spacious, like I required. There’s a living roomwide enough to host an army. A kitchen I’ll never touch but is there nonetheless. Three bedrooms, but only one of them matters now.
I take Scarlett to the room I had constructed specifically for her. One that partially mimics the cell she woke up in when I first kidnapped her all those months ago, except with slightly more comfortable amenities. A king-sized bed stands in the corner of the room, and in the center, there’s a metal chair and accompanying table. Both are equipped with restraints, ready to hold her down so I can play, train, and satiate myself to my heart’s desire. This will be an appropriate punishment room, a space she’ll go to when she’s fucked up and needs to be reminded of her place.
I set her down on her bed, stroking a few tendrils of hair from her forehead. She gives a quiet moan and stirs a bit, shifting around on the bed restlessly. She’ll wake up soon, and as much as I want to hold her… I’ll have to leave her alone. She needs time to adjust when she awakens, time for fear to set in before I come in and either assuage it or accelerate it, depending on how she behaves.
I vacillated a lot when thinking about a punishment room where I’d keep her. Ultimately, I settled on a space that’d help desensitize her with time.
When we first met, after I realized her innocence and plucked her out of the cell in the annex, she was always terrified I’d send her back there. Her fear is one of the first things that needs to be addressed. Even in a place like this, she needs to learn that I no longer have any intention of hurting her—not with pain, at least. With time, she’ll come to see that her worst fears are unfounded, that Iama man who’ll still stick to my word.
But that doesn’t mean she’ll be able to control or manipulate me.
I draw a blanket up and over her body and force myself to depart from her, stepping out of the room and locking the door from theoutside. I head to the kitchen, pour a cup of herbal tea into a mug, and return to the room, setting it by the small bedside table next to Scarlett.
I said I wouldn’t physically hurt her, and I meant it. I never said anything about not using psychological torment. She did, after all, try to kill me—and there will be consequences for that.
Chapter Five
Scarlett
Iwake up slowly, with a horribly dry mouth and aching body. Memories swarm my mind—Max, Monster, going down on Monster, Monster shoving a needle in my neck.
Monster.
Monster.
It wasn’t a nightmare, no matter how desperately I want to believe it is. No, as I come to blearily, blinking and sitting up on a soft mattress, I realize that my nightmare has only just begun.
Cold sweat drips down the back of my neck, wetting the material of the oversized shirt that I’m wearing… which is the only article of clothing covering my body. My breathing speeds up as I cast a slightly blurry gaze over the room. This… is the real nightmare. This is my torture chamber, and probably where I’ll be executed, once and for all.
I’m back in a cell. Only, it’s not the cell I first woke up in nearly a year ago; there are very distinct differences. The walls are made of brick rather than cement, which means I’m not at the annex… but wherever I am, it isn’t much better, and it’s been built to represent a near-replica to my original death cell.
Bile rises in my throat at the sight of a familiar metal table and chair, equipped with restraints, sitting in the middle of the mid-sized room.The bed I’m in has hardwood paneling and four short posters, each of which havechainswrapped around them.
My very soul roils in turmoil as I realize that Monster can do whatever he wants to me. Strap me to that metal chair and waterboard me again, or do it right here in the bed. Stab me. Humiliate me.Kill me.
I should’ve gotten to that knife in my kitchen when I had the chance, because now… now, I’m literally fucked.
There are no cameras in this room that I can see, but I have no doubt there are hidden ones—and probably bugs all over the place. The illusion of privacy is a thin veil hiding an ugly truth. Every single object into this room is a barely shielded threat, constructed to inflict maximum psychological torture. A table and chair that’s a replica of the one I almostdiedin. A bed I can be chained down to in any position.
But the biggest threat of all comes from the mug sitting on the rickety wooden table next to the bed, filled with steaming tea.
Tea.
I look closer at the mug… then promptly rear back as horrible memories assault me. This is the same exact mug Monster drank out of the night I poisoned him, down to the shape, color, and slight chip in the handle.
Nausea rises in my esophagus. Something inside my head goes numb, as if my fundamental brain chemistry is shifting.
Is Monster going to poison me?
Is that how I’m going to die?
Monster talked a big game before I escaped him. Repeated that he wouldn’t hurt me moments before brutally taking my virginity. Told me that he’d claimed me as his ‘chosen’ woman, the one he’d protect above all others, while failing to protect me against hisboss—Cain.
