I feel my cheeks heat. “I should get going. Luci will be hungry.”
Cedric’s brows briefly furrow. “Luci?”
“Lucifer,” I clarify. “My cat. I found him when he was a hissing, spitting kitten, alone in the rain and crying for his mom. She was nowhere to be found, and he tried to claw my face off when I picked him up.” Luci was incredibly feisty for the first several weeks, scratching and biting me. I think he might’ve been abused by previous owners, when he was just a newborn, before being turned out. Over time, he softened, and now he’s my little snuggle-bug. He’s probably the most therapeutic thing in my life.
“Oh.” Cedric blinks. “Well… good luck with him.”
“Thanks.” I nod. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“See you Monday.”
I live in a crumbling apartment building on the south side of town, where walking alone at night can easily become a tricky, uncomfortable,dangerousexperience. I try not to walk after dark, but in any case, I’m always armed. When I pull late nights at a lab, a lovely woman who works as a bouncer at the strip club down the street walks me home from the bus stop.
It’s already dark outside when I step off the bus, but I only have a half-mile trek home, so I take it at a brisk jog, thanking whatever higher power exists that I work in a lab where sneakers are recommended instead of heels.
My thoughts are trained on Luci, who’s really become an emotional support and therapy animal for me. The few times I’ve allowed Eric to come over, which is no longer a common occurrence, Luci has tried to gouge his eyes out. My cat is okay around women now—he doesn’t seem to mind the female vet he sees for his shots—but he doesn’t like men. I suspect he was abused by a man.
We have that much in common. My life has been a cycle of abuse from men, starting out with my father and progressing onto the horrors Monster inflicted on me.
I manage to scurry my way up the deteriorating steps of the old grand townhouse that was transformed into an apartment building, unlock the front door that will probably break down with the next storm, and trot up the stairs to the second floor. The floors pulse with pounding music coming from my neighbor’s apartment—something that irritates Luci and I alike to no end. But, no matter how many times I complain to my landlord, my neighbor doesn’t pipe the fuck down. I’ve contemplated calling the police several times, but I try to stay as low on the radar as possible. If it’s possible to avoid law enforcement, I will.
I stride down the dim, creaky hallway, only to freeze in front of my door.
It’s cracked open.
It’s fuckingcracked open.
My heart stutters in my chest, then breaks out into a flurry of chaotic heartbeats. My breaths quicken, and cold sweat gathers on the back of my neck.
I spent half of my first meager paycheck from the lab on a good security system for my apartment—a small comfort. If it were Eric who broke in, he’d have texted me. More, he’d have called far in advance, asking if he could come over. He’s spent the last nine months walkingon eggshells around me, ever since I voiced my desire to cut as many ties between us as possible.
The only people who could possibly be here are my father… or Monster. I don’t know which one would be worse.
Monster. If my father got his hands on me, I’d kill myself. Monster wouldn’tallowme to kill myself.
In either case, it’s time to run. Whoever left my door cracked must’ve done so deliberately, to let me know they were here. Maybe to give me a head start on running? Or as a fear tactic? I don’t know, and I don’t care.
I spin around on my heel and take off… but only get one step before crashing into a hard chest. My lips part around a scream, but a hand covers my mouth, preventing it. I scratch, kick, claw, and screech behind the large hand, to no avail. A strong, buff arm bands around my waist, plastering my arms to my sides, and I finally look up to get a glimpse at whoever it is.
Red hair. Freckled nose. Whisky-colored eyes.
It’s Max.
Max?
If he’s here… oh, dear fucking god. Adrenaline lights up my veins, fear seeps into my bones and sets my body shivering with a tremble, and memories—horrible,painfulmemories rattle around my mind.
“Scarlett,” he says, keeping his voice only loud enough to be heard over my neighbor’s music. “Stop fighting andlisten. I don’t know when I’ll get to talk to you next.”
I inhale a sharp, shuddering breath. “Please,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Please let me go. You’re not like him—”
“Stop talking andlisten. I only have a moment.”
Realization settles heavily into my bones. There’s no escape. Even if I get out, if Max is here, Greyson’s here, and he probably has otherswith him. I remember what he said the last time I saw him—his promise to find me.
In other words, I’mfucked.
“Get rid of any misconceptions you have that I’m a good guy,” Max says harshly. “I’m not. I’m not a kind person. You may think I am because I helped you walk, but I only did that because I was ordered to by my superior—Greyson.” Max blinks slowly, and I think I see a brief flash of guilt in his eyes. “Scarlett… the best thing you can do right now is give in.”
