I kneel down next to my bed, reach into the drawer of my bedside table, and pull out a book full of bedtime stories I’ve had since I was a kid—the only thing I kept and took with me from home to home.
Amirah rolls off the bed and heads to the adjoining bathroom.When she goes to shut the door behind her, I yell, “Leave it open, and don’t you dare try anything.You won’t get out of here alive!”I don’t trust her enough—what if she grabs something in there and uses it against me as a weapon?
But that would be fun.
I sit back on my bed, clutching the book, trying to keep my eyes downcast to give her privacy.A minute later she emerges, and all the blood rushes to my cock.
My T-shirt rests high above her knees, just covering her underwear.My black heart spurts to life.Fuck me dead.Is she even real?My gaze moves slowly over her milky skin that looks untouched, clean.I want to paint every inch of her in my favorite color: red.
She drops her clothes at the end of my bed and moves over the sheets, brushing past me.I grip the book, and it takes everything in me not to jump on her, pin her down, and claim her.Fuck.No.Stop.I shake my head.
Amirah watches me closely, her brows drawing together.She licks her dry lips and my breathing picks up.
I clear my throat, pushing all my thoughts down into the pits of hell.There’s some part of me that doesn’t want to scare her away.I want her to see me, really see me.
“I’ll read you a bedtime story.Do you know the one about the rich princess who got kidnapped by the sexiest man she’d ever met?”I smile, and she rolls those mossy-green eyes.
She looks around the room, her gaze stopping on my journal, and she points at it.“Read me something from that,” she says, not as a question but as a demand.
I snort.“Not happening.”
She bats her eyelashes at me, and it feels as though the ground swallows me.Maybe we should?You do use your thoughts for lyrics, so why can’t she hear them too?
Fuck, no.That makes you weak.
Does not.
Whatever, pussy-whipped dick.
Shut up.I squeeze my hands around the book.
With a grunt, I reach over, grab the journal, and open it.My words fill every page, and I randomly stop somewhere in the middle.My scribbles stare back at me, words about all the terrible things I’ve done in my line of work.She doesn’t need to know about that.I’ve never pretended to be a good person, because I’m not.
Everyone is scared of me.I walk into a room and they look away.They move out of my way.No one ever gives me a chance.They think I’m a monster, so that’s what I’ve come to accept, but Amirah is different.She isn’t afraid.It feels like she really sees me, and I thought that was what I wanted, but I’m starting to worry it’s wrong.She needs to be scared, ’cause I am the devil.
I run my fingers through my hair, then turn the pages until I settle into yesterday’s words.When I was feeling trapped.Alone.Torn between two parts of me.That battle I’m constantly facing.
“The walls are closing in around me, suffocating.Taking every last bit of oxygen.I can’t breathe; we can’t breathe.I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.Will we make it out alive?No, I don’t deserve to after what I’ve done.I’m no saint.I’m the devil.Everyone only sees him.They run.They hide.They scream.I want to make it stop, but the pull is so strong.Who am I without the labels?Nothing.Nobody.I have nothing.Weak.Unhinged.Damaged.That’s who we are, who I am.If I was reborn, would I choose differently?Be a better human being?Yes.No.I don’t know.I can’t stop who I am.The DNA running through my bloodstream—I can’t change it.I’ve done too much.Seen too much.There’s no turning back now.My story is set; now I must live with the consequences.”
Amirah sniffs, rubbing her red eyes before rolling over, giving me her back, and I close the book, leaving it on my bedside table.I pull back the sheets, and Amirah hops under, covering her body.
“Night, princess,” I say, and she ignores me.Did I share too much?Does she hate me now?
She already does.This is your chance to show her that she’s nothing.A toy.A pawn.
Her dark-as-night hair lies down her back, and I want to reach out and cut off a strand to keep with me when we’re not together.
When we kill her.
Chapter Thirteen
Kai
I can’t fucking sleep.I’ve been staring at my blank ceiling for hours, wide awake.We need to start moving, taking action, and working out what the fuck we’re going to do with her—Amirah—now that she’s not going back to the ville.She knows about Cleo, thanks to my big fucking mouth.
Zion was furious, and fuck, I don’t blame him.I fucked up.I didn’t even realize what I’d done until after.Everything is already difficult with his daughter, and now that Amirah knows, we can’t risk giving her back.She could tell The Brotherhood that there’s an illegitimate love child living with one of their own, and Zion would never see Cleo again.I won’t let that happen.Amirah is staying with us.
I force back the sheets, roll out of bed, and pull on my tracksuit pants, then grab my hoodie on the way out of my bedroom.My trailer is dark and quiet.I flick on the switch in the kitchen and grab my keys off the counter before turning the light back off.
