Chapter Twenty-Four
Thisishardlyafresh experience for me. Locked up, roughed up. Six years later and this is still Damon’s grand performance? Same playbook, same energy, same old Damon. You’d think he’d spice things up for the sequel. Honestly, it’s almost insulting how little effort he put in.
He hasn’t even bothered with an actual cage, which is honestly a rookie mistake. If he wanted to make my escape tricky, a few iron bars would have done the trick.
Of course, men like Damon are so deeply misogynistic that they’d never expect me, a mere woman, to stand up for myself. Nope. Women are just weak, fragile creatures in his eyes. Men are the all-powerful gods we should bow to whenever they demand it.
I gag at the thought.
No, thank you.
Tomcat in that mask, that big dick energy coming off him…okay, I might hesitate. Might. There's at least a fighting chanceof getting me on my knees for that man and I'm not ashamed of it.
Oh, let’s be real. I’d absolutely be on my knees for my man, no question.
Even after I nearly killed Damon and slipped through his fingers years ago, he still underestimates me. Proof? He’s got me tied to a rickety wooden chair in a deserted warehouse, using nothing but cheap rope.
Total amateur move.
By all logic, I should be shaking in my boots. Damon’s supposed to be the underworld’s ultimate nightmare, after all.
But I don’t know…
I tilt my head, sizing him up as he lurks in the shadows. All I see is a weak, pitiful excuse for a man. Especially when I think of my Tomcat.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” I quip smoothly, the jagged cut on my lip cracking wide open again and leaking a fresh trail of blood down my chin.
I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been his captive. Time here is slippery, bending and blurring at the edges. My head throbs with what’s probably a nasty concussion, courtesy of his boot and my helmet smashing the pavement, but I grit my teeth and force myself to stay sharp, refusing to let the world slip away.
I know what happens when I go under around this man. I know what the darkness costs me.
Not again.
This isn’t my first time tangled up in his games. But I’m meaner now, sharper, and I’ve been quietly sharpening my claws for this showdown. I will leave this warehouse alive, even if I have to gnaw my way through every inch of him to make it happen.
I glare up at him, baring my teeth with a feral snap and letting out a guttural growl, already picturing the scene. He’d taste vile,no doubt. The poison in his soul has seeped straight through to his skin. Just my luck that I’d finally take him out, only to drop dead from the taste of his corruption.
“You have bad thoughts in your eyes, flower,” he says, smoothly slipping into our native Greek as he steps out of the shadows and moves closer to me. “That will not do. You have turned into an uncouth heathen without my guidance.”
He halts inches from me, so I do what any well-behaved hostage would. Flash a wide, fearless grin and spit a mouthful of blood straight at him, bursting into wild laughter as it splatters across his arrogant face.
“Score!” I crow, triumphant, half-raising my fist before the ropes bite my wrists and remind me I’m still tied up tight.
The heavy back of Damon’s hand cracks against my jaw, the violent force sending my vision all wonky again.
“If only I had Jack the Dripper right now, you’d be in a world of trouble,” I mutter, shaking off the stars and lazily licking blood from my lip.
Behind the chair, I keep wrenching at my bindings, frustration clawing at my chest as the stubborn fibers refuse to budge.
But then determination drowns out the panic. There’s only one way out of these ropes, and I’m ready to take it.
“You dare speak another man’s name in my presence?” Damon spits, the veins in his forehead protruding as his composure begins to crack.
“Obviously. They’ve both pleased me a hell of a lot more than you ever could.” I work my jaw, testing the ache from his blow. “You still hit like an absolute bitch, Damon.”
“I will have to teach you all over again,” he purrs, his voice dropping into that slick, terrifying rhythm. “I will need to completely break you down and rebuild you from scratch.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to fly for me. My schedule’s packed.”
