His words prick at me, pushing me into defensiveness. “So, you don’t care about me?” I challenge, my chin lifting. “If I died tomorrow, how would you feel?”
His eyes narrow before a low, feral growl escapes his throat. “Murderous.” The word slashes between us like a promise. “But after I’ve burned the world down for taking you from me, I’d join your ass in hell.”
“Hell?” I echo while glancing at him.
“Yeah, my beautiful girl,” he responds, his lips curling into a wicked smirk, his dimples showing. “You know you sinned the moment you let the fucking devil brutally screw all three of your holes, right? Those delicious screams definitely earned you a place in hell.”
Heat floods through me, my thighs clenching involuntarily and I glance out the window beside me to distract myself from the feeling, but his words wrap around me like a fucking noose.
…
When we finally reach a deserted motel on the side of a lonely highway, the place looks as if it’s barely used. Old. Rough. Its cracked neon sign flickers, the word “Vacancy” buzzing like a dying fly. Ty’s iron grasp on my wrist, still cuffed to his, drags me toward the reception as I cradle Midnight against my chest.
“Keep your pretty head low, Kitten,” he murmurs firmly.
I inhale deeply, trying to steady myself, and drop my head as instructed. The sharp squeak of the door handle echoes in the near-silence when he pulls it open.
Inside, the reception area is as miserable as the outside—dim lighting, peeling wallpaper, and the faint stench of mold. At the desk, Ty leans forward and smacks the tiny bell with impatience. Moments later, an older woman shuffles out from the back, her movements sluggish. She doesn’t bother looking at us, her gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance.
“Name?” she rasps, her voice like sandpaper.
“We don’t have a name. We just need a room,” Ty responds, his tone rude, already annoyed with the interaction.
Her wrinkled face twists slightly, but she doesn’t lift her eyes. “I need a name,” she insists.
Ty sighs sharply, then slaps a thick wad of cash onto the counter and the sudden smack of money against wood makes me flinch.
“We’ll be here for the week,” he says, “No fucking name.”
The woman finally moves, her head lifting slightly, her expression sharp and calculating as she eyes the money. Slowly, she drags the stack toward herself with greedy fingers, licking them before she starts counting the bills one by one.
When she’s finished, she slides her gaze up to me, and her eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Midnight nestled in my arms.
“No pets.”
My stomach drops, and I hold Midnight closer, ready to protest, but Ty’s growl cuts through the tension like a blade. Without a word, he slams another stack of cash onto the counter, the impact making the woman recoil.
I glance at him in disbelief, wondering where the hell all this money is coming from, but Ty’s harsh glare keeps me silent.
The woman stares him down for a long moment, her jaw tight as if weighing the situation. Finally, with a huff of defeat, she snatches the second stack of money and begins counting again.
When she’s done, she slams a key down onto the counter, its metal jangling loudly in the quiet room.
“Room 106,” she spits out.
Ty snatches the key without a word and yanks me toward the door, Midnight still snug in my arms. Outside, the night is cold.
“Welcome home, my little Kitten’s,” Ty mutters, his voice laced with dark amusement as he leads me to our temporary sanctuary.
…
When we step into the motel room, I take a quick glance around. It’s better than the other two houses I’ve stayed in recently. Ty shuts the door behind us with a soft click, locking it without hesitation and I lower Midnight to the floor, watching her cautiously sniff around the unfamiliar space. I take a few steps forward, still feeling the handcuff on my wrist linked to his, restricting me.
“Where did you get all of that money, Ty?” I ask, knowing that came on a bit strong. But Ty would have lost everything the moment he killed his parents. That’s just the way the law works.
He clicks his tongue twice and shakes his head slightly, his hand setting my suitcase down.
“We’re not married yet, freckles,” he says. “You don’t need to know my finances.”
