Shit. I can’t tell him the truth… “He suggested very strongly that I should give in sooner rather than later. He was not kind with his words.”
Monster mutters a curse under his breath. “Yeah. He never is.” He approaches the bed, placing a knee on the mattress. I stiffen, preparing myself for another bout of sexual torture, but Monster just reaches behind me, pulling my hair away from my neck. I hear a slight clatter, and turn to see the chain that was holding me in place detached.
“How does it work?” I ask quietly, reaching up to touch the cruel collar disguised as a beautiful necklace.
“Magnets,” Monster responds. “The clasp is created from some of the strongest material in the world, so it’s not coming off without a magnetic lock that only I have access to. A different magnet system lets me attach it to chains.”
“If I told you that I hate this fucking thing and asked you to take it off, would you?”
Monster tilts his head to the side, regarding me closely. “I don’t think you hate it,” he says. “I think you hate what it represents—my ownership—but not the necklace itself.” He reaches out, not reacting when I futilely attempt to shrink back. “This collar…” he trails off, running his fingers over the ostentatious diamonds. “You see it as a reminder of my ownership, but I’d much rather you saw it as a symbol. You’re a diamond, Scarlett.Mydiamond. The most precious stone on earth—the most preciouswomanon earth. That’s what this necklace means.” He drags his fingertips up my neck and strokes his thumb over my bottom lip, gazing at my mouth. “You’ll see that someday. You’ll see your value, and how much you mean to me someday.” He clears his throat, pulling away. “For now… let’s get you fed.”
The next days follow a similar cycle. I wake up in the cell; Monster comes to me with breakfast, always making a point to feed me himself. If I try to resist, my hands are restrained. If I try to claw and fight, I get the mittens I fucking abhor. He dresses me and takes me on a walk, parading me around the fortress and bringing me to the greenhouse.
Despite everything… Ilovemy time in the greenhouse. I start testing the soil around the beds and drawing out a map for a vegetable garden, practically humming with excitement as I work. I have the ability to affect true change right here, both on a small scale that benefits the Nighthawks, and on a larger scale. I can do world-changing research… even if I know the world will reject what I find, because it’ll take money out of billionaire’s pockets and suggest they stop polluting this world.
I think three or four plots of farmland would be good to start with, each for a certain crop; and an extra plot will be set aside, isolated from the others, and meant for my personal experiments. When I run my plans by Monster, he gives everything the go-ahead, and seems genuinely pleased with my excitement. He even promises to put farm work on the Nighthawk’s daily physical training schedule, guaranteeing me the labor I’ll need.
After my time at the greenhouse, he brings me to his office with him, where I either kneel on a pillow to get tortured or sit on a couch to stare at nothing while he works. Lunch is taken in his office; then, he takes me back to my cell, where I eat dinner.
I don’t see Luci, even though I ask about him as often as I can. I don’t get to speak to or interact with anyone who isn’t Monster. I don’t get any freedom, or very much agency—Monster’s seemed to develop an obsession with physically caringfor me. He washes my body and my hair in the shower, not allowing me to do it myself. When I’m exhausted from whatever new kinky thing he did to me, he carries me between places. He uses the guise of aftercare to hold me like I’m precious to him… and at times, I wonder if I actually am.
He doesn’t hurt me, though that doesn’t stop me from flinching when he makes certain moves around me. He doesn’t fuck me… though I know it’s only a matter of time. I’m not sure what the holdup is, if making me wait is his way of psychologically torturing me… but either way, it’s cruel. Part of me is terrified, and the other part of me just wants it over with. His sexual proclivities exhaust me… maybe just regular sex would be a nice break.
It's early one morning when Monster introduces a routine shift, directly after I’ve finished up breakfast.
“Max is going to be with you today,” he tells me. “I have some work to do off-site, a meeting to take, so he’ll take you to the greenhouse in the afternoon. The supplies you ordered the other day are in, so you can get started on whatever you want.” His throat works as he sips a cup of coffee. “You might think Max is nicer than me, but he answers directly to me… so do yourself a favor and don’t try to pull anything on his watch. It won’t work. He’s one of our best agents.”
I nod slowly. “Alright.”
Monster’s brows briefly furrow before his expression smooths out. “You’re sleeping in my bed tonight,” he tells me, glancing around the cell. “If you’re a good girl, you’ll get to stay there, with me.”
“If my preferences have any value, I’d much rather stay here.”
“Your opinion holds plenty of value when it’s not standing in direct contradiction of me.” Monster sets down his coffee mug and cups my chin, angling my head to keep my gaze on him. “You’re mine, Scarlett. There’s no use in fighting it.”
I don’t respond to that. The reality of my circumstances is starting to set in. I managed to escape last time because I had the element of surprise, and Monster wasn’t expecting me to make such a move. I have no such grace this time around; he watches me at all hours of the day with a sniper’s vigilance. The only times he leaves me alone are in this locked cell. I have no freedom. By all measurements, Idobelong to him… and I hate both of us more with each passing day for it, but my hatred is also beginning to trickle into a resentful sort of acceptance.
When I get an opportunity…ifI get an opportunity, I’ll kill him and escape. But the chances for that opportunity seem to be remarkably, frustratingly,impossiblyslim.
“I’ll see you tonight, Flower,” Monster says, leaning down to kiss my head. “Max will be along in a bit.”
Chapter Fifteen
Greyson
“Don’t know the last time we went on an op together,” I comment, glancing over at Cain. He’s seated in the passenger seat of the SUV, typing away furiously at the computer on his lap. In the corner of his screen is a grainy, live-stream image showing a laboratory with linoleum flooring and gleaming countertops. A woman in a lab coat stands at one of those counters, working on something indistinguishable.
When Cain doesn’t respond or otherwise acknowledge my existence, I ask, “Stalking your Chosen?”
Cain turns to pin me with a deadened look, warning dancing in his cold gaze. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Neither is this bullshit assignment you brought me on,” I reply blithely. “And yet, I’m driving us to deal withbody disposalof all things.”
“Not body disposal,witnessdisposal,” Cain corrects calmly. “Blue team fucked up their op, and I don’t trust anyone else to deal with the situation properly, so it’s down to the two of us. It shouldn’t take more than an hour—though I do have a pitstop to make while we’re in the city.”
The screwed-up operation in question took place at a restaurant, and itshould’vebeen simple. Poisoning a target’s food and getting thefuck out of dodge. Two Nighthawks were sent; one to run the op, one to run interference and backup.
A line cook noticed the operator slipping powder into the target’s soup, and when that man died a very bloody death just minutes later, that cook probably put two and two together. I’ve seen video footage of the cook watching our agent poison soup. In the unlikely case that the cook hasn’t realized what happened, he will eventually, and then that’ll mean problems.
