Uncaged Obsessions (Uncaged Duet #2)

8. Max

CHAPTER 8

MAX

I ’ve always related to Rapunzel. Locked away in her tower, every day looking the same. Shitty mom, the whole ordeal, really. Well, Rapunzel never had a man that kept claiming to be her fiancé. One that used his fists to keep her in line, or that it was his right to have her body.

I’d rather have her life than mine, considering that my reality comes with the unwanted fiancé. My life had included three men I would have never thought I would want, but right now I would consider all of them my knights in shining armor if I could just talk to them.

Too bad there weren’t any princesses with that kind of story. I guess Snow White kind of had seven, right? Well, technically they weren’t princes and I guess she did end up with only one of those.

I turn the light on in the bathroom illuminating my ragged appearance, and the bruise forming under my eye. Carson had discovered the marks left on my body from the three men that consume my thoughts. Though, if I'm being honest, I think it might be more than just my thoughts that are preoccupied by them. Because there’s a pit in my stomach that grows every day that I'm gone, and this feeling like a part of myself is missing tells me that my heart is also consumed by them, too.

“What the fuck is this?” Carson snarls, ripping the collar of my shirt and revealing more of my skin to him. Even as I try to push him away, he only yanks harder and I stop, not wanting him to pull my shirt off completely.

“None of your business.” I fight, yanking my shirt from his grip so I can get away from him.

“Really? Because it looks like you’ve been marked up like some slut.”

“And so what? I don’t belong to you and if it bothers you so much, then just let me fucking leave.”

Before I’m able to see it coming, there’s a sharp pain across my face and my head is forced to the side. My jaw drops open, though it shouldn’t surprise me. It’s not the first time he’s hit me, but I wasn’t even able to defend myself and I hate that it makes me feel worse.

I’ve been working on getting stronger. To learn to fight and defend myself, and I’m unable to even do that right now. That hit hurts more than the physical one Carson just threw my way.

“I’ll never let you leave. You’re not getting away from me again.” His smile is sadistic as I cradle my cheek.

“Then I’m going to make you wish you were dead,” I threaten.

His laugh follows him out the door as he leaves me standing there, alone once again.

Carson doesn’t have the same deal as the Barclay household and the bedrooms do have locks on them. Which is why I’m locked in one of the guest rooms while I assess the damage. Luckily it’s not too bad, but mentally it’s a lot worse.

I’m going to fucking kill him, even if it’s the last thing I do.

There’s a banging on the door, and it yanks me out of the sleep I somehow fell into at some point.

“Maxine, open the door!”

“Fuck off!” I scream back, burying my face into a pillow.

“Open the fucking door or I’m going to kick it down.”

I know I shouldn’t taunt him, I know I should make things easier on myself right now instead of worse, but I’m sick and tired of playing nice and being the good little Maxine for everyone. My men back in Seaside helped me discover who I really am and that I’m stronger than I realize.

“I’d like to see you try,” I call out.

There’s a loud bang from what I assume is either his foot or his body hitting the wood. I know how thick these doors are and it’s going to take some serious effort if he really thinks he’s going to break it down. Meanwhile, I’ll be ready to fight back if he does.

I’ve been going over all the training in my mind. Attempting to practice alone isn’t the easiest thing to do, but I’m going to get myself out of here and I’m going to get back to my real home. But in order to do that, I know it’s going to include getting rid of Carson.

Another bang, this one louder and with an accompanied growl. The noise makes me chuckle because it reminds me of Caine’s growling, but with him it’s sexy and I know that I’m going to be pissed off, but it’s going to lead to a fun time. And at least an orgasm or two.

With Carson it sounds like he’s trying—and failing—to be tough. Another bang bounces off the door before I hear the sound of his footsteps retreating, knowing he’s not giving up. So I wait. When he comes back his voice is lower, darker, and sends a chill down my spine.

“Open the door, Maxine. You’re coming out here or I can make a call about one of your boyfriends. Who should I deal with first?”

I shoot up, staring at the door. I want to fight against the way he's using them to get to me, but he already knows that I'll do what I can to spare them. I don't want to find out what exactly he would actually do.

“I’m thinking Adam? He has the most to lose, doesn’t he? That shithole of a gym is his entire life, isn’t it?”

My mouth gapes; how did he learn about any of them? I think about the ways he could have and come up short. Even if he knew where I was this whole time, there’s no way he knows who I was with, or anything about them.

“Yeah, I’ll just make a call…” His voice gets quieter and I race to the door, opening it, but I stay standing my ground.

He smiles, tucking his phone away when he sees me, and I watch the movement, raising my chin. “Where’s my phone?” I ask because I’ve been wondering, though I doubt he’ll give it back.

“You don’t need it.”

“I want it.”

“Come with me,” he demands, avoiding the conversation altogether. It takes every ounce of me not to punch him in the back of the head as he walks ahead of me into the living room.

I hate walking through this house. It’s haunted all my nightmares. Walking through the halls unlocks every memory that I’ve wanted to suppress since leaving, and being back here has me neck deep into the hell I thought I escaped.

We get to the large open space and I anticipate what he’s going to ask of me before he can even open his mouth. My suspicions are confirmed when he sits in the chair he always did.

“Dance for me, wifey, it’s been too long.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Fuck no.”

“You came back feisty, Maxine. I think I like it.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Come on, you used to love to dance and I’ve missed watching you, it’s one of the only things you were good at.” He takes a sip from the glass of brown liquid I just noticed he has and I can smell it from here. I know it’ll only get worse if he gets drunk. Everything was always worse after he’s been drinking. Especially when he came home from whatever “business meeting” he was just at.

“Things change.” I watch his throat bob as he swallows the liquid, my strength retreating every second I stay standing here. The weight of my past consumes me once again.

“They sure do.” He looks me over and I fight the urge to cower. “In fact, I think I’d like to see all the ways you’ve changed in these last couple months.”

I take a step back, away from him. “You have already.”

“No, I want to see all the ways you’ve changed. Strip.”

My breath hitches. I shake my head, taking another step back.

“Strip or dance.” He takes another sip. “Preferably both.”

I steel my spine, gathering every single ounce of the strength I’ve built to get through the inevitable torture. It’s about trading one thing for another with him. If I do this, maybe he’ll leave me alone for now. I hope at least that as long as I play nice he’ll leave Caine, Adam, and Drew alone.

If I have to suffer for the time being, it will be worth it to know that they're safe. Because no matter what, I won't risk their lives being ruined simply because they wanted to get involved with me.

Even if I tried to stop them. Especially with Caine, but that ship has sailed because we are all in the deep end now and there’s no going back.

“Fine. I’ll dance,” I agree, reluctantly. “But I need the music on my phone.”

He barks out a laugh. “You’ve always been a shit negotiator, wifey.” Shaking his head, he pulls out my phone from his pocket, and I think about lunging toward him to grab it, but he doesn’t even look up when he says, “Don’t even think about it.”

I grit my teeth, wanting to go against everything that he’s saying. Every fiber of my being wants to fight to get out of here right now, but I have to be smart about this. I have to play the long game, which includes getting Carson to somewhat trust me again. I have to get through this.

He starts playing some music from my phone, turning the volume up as he holds onto it while it plays. “I should take a video to send in the little group chat you have that keeps blowing up.”

My heart lurches; I know exactly what group chat he’s talking about. “You’re reading my texts?”

“Of course. I need to know what my fiancé has been up to and who she’s been talking to while she was on her little adventure. Dance and maybe I’ll read you some of the ones you’ve missed.”

I don’t want to do this. Almost as much as I don’t want to hear the words meant to be coming from them pass through Carson’s lips. But I start to move, closing my eyes, and let the music flow through me. It takes me back to how it used to be. This isn’t like the dancing I did back in Seaside where I was finding my love for it again. This is the dancing I was trained to do.

Each move was beat into me by my ballet teachers. I was forced to repeat them over and over until I’d perfected it. The music is ingrained in my bones, but the way my body is moving is rehearsed and fluid.

Carson’s voice breaks through my haze, making me stumble as I listen to what he says, “Adam asked ‘where are you?’”

I stumble slightly, but refuse to open my eyes. I don’t want him to see my raw reaction. Especially as he continues.

“Adam says to tell him you’re okay. I should show him what you look like right now so he knows how okay you are. Or maybe I’ll send him a video of me fucking you later, then he can see how okay you are.”

I turn, attempting to hide my flinch. I may play nice, but I will not let him fucking touch me ever again.

“He says, ‘if you ran, you know we’ll always find you.’ And ‘come back to us.’ Aw, how should we break it to him that you’ll never be coming back?”

I continue moving my body, not feeding into what he’s saying. He can’t know how badly this is hurting me.

“Caine calls you ‘killer’ a lot. He says he’s going to find you and when he does you’re going to pay for leaving them. Sounds like quite the threat. Guess I’m keeping you safe away from these maniacs after all, aren’t I?”

“You’re the maniac,” I murmur, just quiet enough that he can’t hear me.

“Hm, Drew just said for you to say something, anything. And he misses you,” he scoffs.

I bite my tongue to keep from saying anything that I’m going to regret. I taste copper as I make myself bleed from how hard I’m having to bite down. Luckily, the song ends, and I stop moving as soon as the last notes ring out.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” Carson’s voice is gravely and I open my eyes to see that he’s finished the glass of alcohol. I recognize that tone, and the look in his eyes. The one that tells me he thinks he’s going to do whatever he wants with me.

“I haven’t.”

He laughs, throwing his head back and I know he’s buzzed from that action alone. “Guess I should remind you how badly you’ve missed me.”

“If you so much as touch me, I will kill you,” I threaten seriously because I will. Either he’s going to die or I will before any part of him touches any part of me.

He stands up, stepping toward me, and I stand up straighter, ready for whatever confrontation is about to happen. I don’t cower this time. I don’t step back, even when he closes in, only inches between our chests.

“You’re going to beg me to touch you again, wifey. But right now I don’t want to fuck other men’s whore. You still have their teeth marks on your fucking skin, but don’t worry I’ll get you all fixed up and ready for our marriage.”

“Go to hell.”

“See you there.”