Chapter Twelve
Scarlett
The rest of our long walk is taken in silence.
Monster holds my wrist in lieu of my hand for the entirety of the lazy stroll, occasionally brushing his hand through my hair or squeezing my nape.
It’s almost like he’s reminding himself that I’m here and I’m real—that he has me entirely under his control.
Dozens of questions sit on the tip of my tongue. I want to ask why he has my name tattooed over his heart. Why he’s so obsessed with me. Why he disguises torture as love. Why he is the way he is… what life events molded him to become this person.
I keep all of my questions to myself. They’re irrelevant—the answers don’t matter.
“We’re almost there,” Monster tells me, touching a hand to the small of my back. He touches me as much as he can when we’re together, and the touches aren’t always sexual, but they’re always possessive.
The paved path gives way to a dirt road, and I gaze at the lush green fields on either side.
I’d have to test the soil, but my gut’s telling me that this is fertile, healthy land that would be ideal for farming.
I spot a structure in the distance—one that glints beneath the sunlight, and I find my steps subconsciously speeding as intuition niggles in my gut.
A minute later, I make out that it’s not just a structure—it’s a house. And not just a house, it’s a huge greenhouse.
From the outside, the greenhouse gleams like a monolith of glass and shadow.
Black steel ribs curve around high-performance smart glass I recognize from some conferences I’ve attended.
It’s extremely expensive and state of the art; it’s engineered to shift opacity based on light and temperature.
Solar panels are seamlessly embedded along the roofline, giving the structure silent and sustainable power.
There are no wires, no visible hinges to the greenhouse. Just clean-cut, purposeful lines.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, eyes widening.
Monster curves a hand around my hip. “Want to take a peek inside?”
There’s a greenhouse in the fortress. When… how—
I nod mutely, overwhelmed.
A simple door brings us inside, where the greenhouse is perfectly quiet, yet somehow alive.
Above me, a vaulted glass ceiling stretches wide and high, and the sheen on the glass floods the space with gentle light.
Steel beams arch overhead, framing the transparent ceiling.
LED panels are tucked beneath the beams, probably programmed to mimic seasons or specific light wavelengths for germination.
I toe off my shoes at the entrance, needing to feel the stone beneath my feet. It’s radiant heated stone, which is designed to stay at a controlled temperature even in the winter. Jesus, Monster went all out for this.
Along the walls, raised beds are filled with soil, and I notice embedded metal probes and sensors sticking out, monitoring moisture, PH, and eventually, root health.
Above each bed are sleek metal bars that I recognize as misting arms—which, once programmed, will release a fine vapor to maintain humidity and keep the plants hydrated.
In the center of the room, touchscreen workstations blend into counters. In the far-right corner, a sealed glass lab holds microscopes, refrigerated drawers for seed preservation, and sterile tools.
It’s all waiting. Not just for planting, but for me. This is a sanctuary built from glass and steel, created with the most advanced technology available. The construction of this greenhouse would’ve cost more than the construction of a mansion—and Monster did it for me.
Just like he promised to all those months ago… while I was plotting to kill him.
I’m overwhelmed. I’m struck silent. My palms itch with the urge to get to work, to start creating and planting—to turn the bones of this building into an active, life-filled greenhouse.
“How?” I breathe. “This is… the best-funded universities don’t have equipment like this.”
“I wanted my woman to have the best greenhouse in the world, so I built it for her.” Monster clears his throat.
“It was one of my conditions for being Cain’s right-hand.
The Nighthawks are very well-funded by our clients, and as part of command, I get access to allocate those funds.
Cain had a jarring figure set aside for construction and upgrades to headquarters, and I demanded he set aside a sum for this.
If I told you how much he spent on the medical and chemistry lab that now sits on the second floor of HQ, your eyes would bulge. ”
A quick, rough calculation tells me this greenhouse would’ve cost close to 700k to construct.
Even as joy fills me, a sense of dread begins to creep through my chest. As much as I want to see this greenhouse as the precious gift it is, it’s part of something much larger and more problematic.
The Nighthawks are taking careful, calculated steps to become self-sufficient and cut off from the world.
They’ve built an upgraded medical wing, and apparently, a chemistry lab—where biological or chemical weapons can be created and used in operations, reducing their need for specialized weapons sourced from the world.
A farm and maybe even livestock will cut off the need for outsourcing food.
I always knew Cain was diabolical, but the Nighthawks are becoming more than just a group of assassins. They’re becoming a secret society. This is beyond psychopathic; it’s outright insane.
“You know how wrong this is, right?” I find myself asking Monster. “What Cain’s doing… what you’re doing… you’re setting yourselves up to be one of the most powerful players in the criminal underworld. More than just a group of assassins—more than just a mafia. You’re becoming a secret society.”
“Right and wrong are shades of grey, not black and white,” Monster tells me mildly.
“For example, what I’m doing to you could be seen as horribly wrong—in terms of captivity.
But you also have to factor in how I feel about you and the lengths I’ll go for your happiness.
” He casts a pointed look around the greenhouse.
“You can do what you want here—whatever you want, with no oversight from investors or the government. You won’t be stuck doing shitty research in a second-grade university lab; your time here will be your own. ”
I swallow thickly. What Monster built here, what he did for me, is touching… but I can’t let it change how I see him. It’s just another manipulation tactic. He’s literally grooming me.
Would it be so bad if I just let him? If I let him in?
Yes, of course it would. Giving him what he wants would chain me to an eternity of misery with the man who thoroughly ruined my life and broke parts of me that will never heal.
“You know you’re giving me every tool I need to poison you again, right?” I ask quietly. I don’t know why I say it; Monster has to know the risks with putting me in a greenhouse with unlimited resources. The question is, why would he do that for me?
“You can try, Flower. Nighthawks are now stocked with all of the antidotes to every known poison in the world. You won’t escape this time, I’ll survive, and I’ll put you in a cell where you’ll be punished so thoroughly you’ll know to never try to harm me again.”
“These thinly-veiled threats…” I cut off, shaking my head.
It’s all threats with him; if I do this, that happens.
If I don’t do that, these are the consequences.
It feels like I’m playing a real-life game of chess with endless moves and countermoves, and all of my attacks will only end up truly harming me.
Monster cocks his head to the side. “What veil?”
I let out a long breath. “Yeah. I get it.”
“What do you get, Flower?” Monster circles his arms around my waist. “The lengths I’ll go to keep you? To make you happy?”
“The lengths you’ll go to subdue me until I’m not my own person. Until I’m completely reliant on the man who broke every piece of me.”
“The man who’s putting you back together. The man who loves you.”
“The man I never should’ve saved. The man who makes my father look sane in comparison.”
“Ouch,” Monster intones. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
“No, Monster.” My words are a haunting whisper. “I think it’s hitting the nail right on the fucking head.”
He presses his lips to my forehead. “Let’s head back. I have some work to do.”
“Already?” I look around the beautiful greenhouse mournfully. I want to stay here—I want to live and breathe this place. The urge to get to work makes my whole body ache with desire.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be back. Once we’ve gotten our relationship to a… better place, you’re welcome to spend your days here—but your nights will always belong to me.”
Surprisingly, Monster doesn’t deposit me back in my makeshift cell upon our return. Instead, he leads me into an office space.
“You’ll be by my desk for the next few hours,” Monster tells me, rubbing my bottom lip with his thumb.
“I’ll be working and playing with you. I have a couple of meetings with people, along with some administrative bullshit and paperwork to get through.
” A slow, terrifyingly gleeful smile pulls up his lips.
“I think having you here will make my workday a lot more fun.”
I have a dreadful sense that playing with me is going to end up being torture for me.
“Monster,” I whisper. “I’m tired. Please—”
“No. You’ll be exhausted by the end of this, but right now, you’re just trying to avoid me. Don’t bother. I’ll play with you either way, and it’s in your best interest to get used to it—because I’ll be doing it a lot.” He smiles. “You’re my favorite toy.”
I don’t miss that he makes the stark distinction between regular time and sexual time. He doesn’t call me his toy in general—only as it pertains to certain activities.