Not now.
“Kneel,” Monster commands softly, his voice seeped in a familiar sort of dominance that almost always earned my compliance. My knees buckle, and I ungracefully crash down to the floor. A softmeowfrom the bedroom finally has my attention going elsewhere—I fix my gaze on the bedroom door, fear curdling in my stomach at the thought of Luci. In my terror, I almost left him. Left him withMonster. God,I’m the worst cat-mom ever, especially since Luci has been integral to my healing.
“The cat’s fine,” Monster assures me. “He tried to rip my face off, so I put him in your room.”
I swallow thickly, flicking a glance up to Monster’s face, searching for signs of deception. He’s a killer, a liar, and an abuser, which doesn’t speak well to his trustworthiness. I don’t trust him; I can’t trust him. A moment ago, I was desperate to kill myself if it meant getting away from him…
Because deep down, I know that if he gets me back to the hellhole that serves as Nighthawks headquarters, I’m never leaving again. I’ll be under his control every moment of every day, and I can’t imagine he’ll be merciful.
He reaches for me, and I instinctively flinch. His lips thin, but he doesn’t have the decency to back off—instead, he wraps a lock of my hair around his finger and gently tugs it, guiding my head to his knee.
“You know what comes next,” he murmurs softly. “Don’t you?”
My eyes flutter shut. I can’t find the voice to respond.
“I’m taking you back to where you belong,” he says, as if I require the clarification.
That gives me just enough of an edge to find my anger. “I will never belong with you,” I hiss. “Never.”
“I know you believe that now. That’s alright. I have all the time in the world to change your perspective.” He strokes a hand over my head, making me grimace. “You have options,” he continues in that soft tone. “I assume you’re attached to your cat. I’ll bring him with us… if you show me that you can still be a good girl.”
“Bring him with us so you can threaten him to control me?” I mutter furiously. “Go fuck yourself.”
“There’s my Scarlett,” he chuckles. “I won’t threaten him. I have no interest in harming innocents.”
I pull my head back, wincing as I nearly tug out the hair still wrapped around his finger, and glare up at him. “I see you still have a sick sense of humor.”
“If I knew you were innocent, I’d have never put you in that cell or harmed you, Scarlett. You know that.”
“What I know is that I begged and pleaded, tried to tell you the truth, which only resulted in you hurting me.”
He wraps his fingers around my neck. The pressure is minimal, but the warning is clear, and the gesture plasters my attention to him. “I want to see if you remember anything from our time together.”
“Monster,” I breathe, shaking my head. “I remembereverything.The drowning. The stabbing. The helplessness, the fear—”
“The pleasure. The connection. If you remember everything, I have to assume you remember that, as well.” Irritation bleeds through his tone.
“Those are figments of your imagination, not reality,” I respond harshly.
“Then explain to me why you woke me up with your sweet pussy rubbing over my cock. Help me understandthatinterlude, Scarlett, if there was no connection.”
His words are like a slap to my face. That’s one instance I have tried and failed desperately to forget. I’ve gone over my decision, my impulse, countless times… and only come to one conclusion.
“I knew I could never have sex again after what you did to me. I also knew I was going to kill you that day. I figured I might as well know what it felt like to choose, just once, before I either forfeited my life or got away.” I inhale a shuddering breath. “I wanted to want it, if only a single time.”
“But you didn’t kill me,” Monster counters. “Which is why you failed to permanently escape me.” He strokes over my hair again, not reacting when I once again flinch. “Why?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say harshly. “It’s not because I cared aboutyou. It’s because I cared about me. Because killing you, after what you proclaimed, would’ve turned me into my father.”
I seal my lips as soon as the words are out. I always avoided telling Monster about myself; I kept my life and my past thoroughly shielded from him. As much as I could, anyway—I did let slip that I had a brother.
“Hmm,” Monster says. “How old were you when your father killed your mother?”
I don’t respond.
“I suppose you don’t have to tell me right now.” His grip on my neck loosens, and he gently strokes his thumb over my pulse. The dichotomy between his gentle touches and harsh, cruel words is dizzying. The fact that I couldn’t end this once and for all is devastating. I’m a ball of roiling, tumultuous emotions—I want to kill Monster, or kill myself. Anything to endthis.
“Back to the matter at hand. I can leave your cat here or drop him off at an animal shelter nearby… or I can bring him with us. I imagine he’ll be a comfort while you and I get reacquainted.” He fists my hair and angles my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes. They’re hardened with resolve and challenge. “Would you like that, Flower?”
