“Kindness,” I repeat with disgust. “Kindness?There is not a single kind bone in your body. Not fucking one.”
Monster points at Luci. “That’s kindness, Scarlett, and a risk on my part—one I took for your comfort.”
“How thefuckis a goddamncata risk?”
“He becomes your emotional support when that should beme,” Monster replies. “Do you really want to get into this power struggle with me over asandwich?”
“It’s not just a sandwich!” I shout, losing my temper entirely. I stand from my seat so quickly it flips over, and the metal clattering against wood frightens Luci so much he darts back into the pet carrier. “It’severything!You want to take away who I am,what I am. The last time you did that, Monster, I reminded you exactly who I am—a fuckingbotanist.You think I won’t find a way to take you out again? That I won’t dedicate what’s left of my life to seeing you dead?”
“Sit down!” Monster snaps, but even his abrupt swing to anger isn’t enough to temper me.
“Go fuck yourself!You should’ve died instead of your brother—”
Monster’s hand wraps around my neck in a merciless hold that scarcely allows me any air. I wriggle, I screech, I try to claw his hand off to the point of drawing blood, but he doesn’t budge. He takes a fistful of my hair with his free hand and walks me backward until the backs of my legs hit the bed and I tip over, falling onto the mattress. Monster’s grip loosens on me in the fall, and as soon as I land, I try to rear back and claw his eyes out, but he’s faster than me. He flips me face-first on the bed, holding me down with a hand on my nape and a knee on my back.
The power he has over me is devastating. He doesn’t evenneedrestraints to keep me in place—he just uses those for fun. He can hold me down with minimal effort, while fighting against him for even a minute is enough to tire me out.
“Stop bringing up my fucking brother,” Monster hisses in my ear, sounding as enraged as I’ve ever heard him—maybe even more. “You didn’t know him. You have no fucking right to speak of him.None whatsoever. You’re not doing either of us any favors by clawing that old wound, Scarlett.”
He pants in the aftermath of his words. I can feel his fury as if it were my own—and in ways, itismy own. Our anger drives us into a battle that neither of us can win, because I’ll never accept him, and he won’t let me go until he’s dead.
He holds me in the humiliating position, face-down, showing me just how easily he can overpower me, for several endless minutes.
“I hope you enjoyed the few hours you got with your little pet,” he says furiously. “You won’t be seeing him again until you learn to behave.
Wait—no.
No!
“No! You can’t take him from me!” My struggle returns with a vengeance, and I writhe beneath him so intensely he has to readjust his position to hold me.
When I manage to get an arm free and rake my nails down his thighs, he mutters, “fuck this.”
Then, I hear the rattle of chains, and that’s when Ireallystart to freak out—but it’s too late. I feel a pressure on the back of my neck, at the base of the collar, and then, Monster’s weight disappears. I manage to look up in time to see him walk over to the pet carrier and lock Luciin; I leap off the bed, only to be jerked back by a horrible pressure on my neck.
I fall back onto the mattress and frantically feel behind the collar, only for my fingers to come into contact with a metal chain. There’s no locking mechanism, no hook or carabiner for me to detach; the chain is held firmly in place by a special lock that must’ve been built into the necklace.
I yank at the jewels, a vicious hatred for them starting a fire in my belly, but the only thing I succeed in is scraping up my own neck.
“Act like a wild dog and I’ll treat you like one,” Monster says, lifting up the cat carrier. “I’ll see you for dinner. For your sake, I hope your disposition has improved.”
Chapter Ten
Greyson
I’m still shaking with fury when I knock on Max’s door, holding the pet carrier in one hand. Lucifer spits and hisses and growls from within, rattling the cage, but I ignore the demonic furball. He was meant as a gesture of kindness for Scarlett, but that little bitch needs to learn manners before she earns any sort of kindness from me.
Max opens up only a few seconds after I knock. A quietwoofcomes from the apartment—Greg is seated a few feet behind him, gazing right at the pet carrier, his tail wagging eagerly.
Max looks from the pet carrier to my face, and takes a moment to examine me. “Well, that didn’t last long,” he mutters, swinging the door open. “This isn’t a fucking animal shelter, Grey. You can’t just bring strays here—”
“How many favors have I done for you this last year?” I question sharply. “I’m asking you to look after a cat. That’s all. You owe me this much at the very least.”
Max sighs and steps aside. “Fair enough.”
I join him on the couch—our usual setup when I come over to bitch to him about something, which has been happening far too often since Scarlett came into my life. Max was the one who stepped up and helped pull me out of the spirals I had when she escaped.
In the short time I knew her, Scarlett had become integral to me. She’s the one who calmed me in my sea of grief, acted as a safe harbor and a beacon of light in the endless darkness.
