Chapter 11
The Monster
I had to push her away before I did something I would regret. She’s done everything she can think of to push my buttons, and this time was finally too much. I wasn’t fully confident that she wouldn’t take the chance to leave, but I needed to see if anything I’m doing is working.
After I calmed down, I searched through the cameras in the house to see if I could find her. It wasn’t hard to guess where she might hide to get away from me. Somewhere she feels safe and comfortable away from me.
Her old room.
I watched her crying into the pillow she hasn’t laid her head on in months, trying to comfort herself while she doesn’t even know what’s wrong. Now, her cries have quieted, but she’s still laying in the bed, clutching the blankets over her.
Part of me wants her to sulk, to know that what she said truly hurt me. It was a combination of things, really. The way she refuses to say my name, even though she’s wearing it on her back. Watching her jump into another man’s arms and cling to him like I wasn’t in the same room. And when she denied any feelings she ever had for me to that man, I wanted to murder someone with my bare hands. I lost it when she compared me to Guerra all over again.
I still shouldn’t have said that to her, though. It wasn’t fair for either of us. What would I have done if she would have left, taken it back and kept trying to hold her here?
All I want to do now is run up those steps so I can hold her in my arms and tell her that everything’s okay, that I’m not mad, but I can’t. I’m holding myself back.
There’s one thing I can do that will make me feel better, though.
I pick up my phone and dial the one person I know will help me. “Tell me you have more for me,” I say before he can even greet me.
“We found a few of Guerra’s men and brought them in. We were hoping to get some information about why the old boss was at their abandoned compound,” he informs me.
“Good. Decide which one is the least useful before I get there,” I command him before hanging up the phone. As soon as the call ends, I dial the next person I need to talk to.
“I’m going out. Watch her and make sure she’s safe.” With the instructions given, I end that call, too.
I rush up the steps to grab a shirt, but as I’m walking back down the hall with my shirt half on, I stop at Ainsley’s door. There’s no sound coming from the other side, but I know she’s still in there. I want to walk in and tell her I’m leaving, but right now, that’s her sanctuary. She doesn’t want me in it.
With a sigh, I finish pulling the shirt over my torso and stomp back down the steps and out the door, leaving my relationship drama behind for now. Now it’s time to give into the anger.
“Tell me, were you one of the men that enjoyed watching my girl get a beating for nothing more than speaking?”
It’s a rhetorical question. I don’t really care if he witnessed that, all I care about is him working for Guerra. As the knife shines in the light while I twirl it around, inspecting the details on the handle, the pathetic excuse of a man in front of me tries to spit out an answer.
“N-no, I was n-never in the c-compound,” he stutters as his eyes track the motion of the knife. He’s so terrified I can practically smell the fear leaking from his pores.
“But you knew about her?”
I’m trying to act as calm as I did when I told Ainsley to leave, but all I really want to do is sink my knife into this man and watch the life bleed out of him. He could be anyone, really, it’s just beneficial for him to be one of Guerra’s men.
“I h-heard that he w-was getting m-married,” he answers. “But the next thing I knew, he was dead.”
The last part comes out clear, letting me know he’s telling the truth. If I were a better man, I might show him some leniency. He didn’t really have anything to do with the torture Ainsley endured.
Unfortunately for him, I’m not much in the mood for leniency.
“You see, that’s my girl,” I inform him, still sounding completely calm. “She was taken from me. Sold to the enemy like a piece of meat. She was beaten daily, just for existing sometimes. If she wasn’t being physically abused, she was being mentally abused. When I finally found her, she was seconds away from jumping off a balcony and killing herself.”
The man in front of me whimpers, knowing what someone who wants revenge sounds like.
“She didn’t jump, and I did rescue her. But, see, the time she spent with your boss ruined her, and she left me. Couldn’t do this life anymore. Now, I’m fighting to win her back. Imagine that, me with a soft side for my girl. Except, she wants none of it. Keeps comparing me to that vile man, and now I’m angry.”
He fights his restraints, but John made sure he was secured to the chair. No matter how much he struggles, he’s not getting out of here.
“You know what I like to do when I’m angry?”
“Please, I had no part in it,” he pleads with me, still trying to fight his restraints.
“Maybe not, but you still should have chosen a different career path.”
As I finish speaking, I launch out of my chair, leading with my fists. I pummel them into his face over and over again, taking pride in the way he swells until he looks like a completely different person.
When my fists ache, I switch to my knife, slashing into his skin. The sight of his bright red blood leaking from various cuts across his body is like therapy to me. As his blood leaks out, my anger goes with it, and I start to feel a little calmer.
After he’s been thoroughly tortured, I cut across his neck, slicing his throat open. He barely even struggles as he bleeds out in front of me.
He might not have deserved such a gruesome death, but Guerra did. And I didn’t get to give it to him. I should have kept him and tortured him for weeks, made him beg for death, but I was more worried about Ainsley.
I’ll always be more worried about Ainsley.
Walking out of the room, I clean my knife on my sweatpants and shove it back into my pocket. I’m covered in blood already, a little more won’t make a difference.
“That was a little gruesome,” John comments as he peaks his head around the corner, catching sight of the scene I just left behind.
I shrug as a response, not really caring about his opinion. I got my anger out, that’s all that really matters at this point. Now I just need to go home and figure out my next steps.
“Call me if you find anything,” I tell John as I walk away, making my way back through the compound and out the door. When I get in my car, I take a minute to type out a quick text.
Me: Ainsley wants to do dinner with you and your parents. I’ll be joining. Give me a day.
I don’t wait for a response as I throw my phone in the cupholder and drive away from the compound, doing my best to leave my anger in the dust behind me.
It doesn’t work very well, but by the time I get home, I’m at least calm. Jonah didn’t call me with any updates while I was gone, meaning Ainsley is still somewhere in the house. As much as I want to get over this fight, we both still need our space.
All thoughts of keeping my distance go out the door when I walk into the house and see Ainsley standing there, looking nervous. Her eyes cast over me, taking in my clothes that have some added blood from the last time she saw more.
“What happened?” she asks as her hands hover over me, trying to find the source of the bleeding. “I saw you pull up, and I wanted to talk. I didn’t like how we left things, but I just -”
She stops, trying to decide what she wants to say as she takes a long pull of air into her lungs. “Are you hurt? You’re covered in blood. I can help, I can -”
This time, I cut her off. “I’m fine.” Two words. That’s all I can say right now. I don’t want her pity, nor do I want to make up just because she thinks I’m hurt and she’s afraid. Though, it feels a little good to know she still worries about me.
“You’re not fine, you’re covered in blood,” she says again, as if I’m unaware of the state my clothing is in.
“It’s not my blood,” I state calmly. Part of me wants to see the horror on her face, so I can feel like the monster she thinks I am. She’ll always see me that way, no matter how I act around her or how much she changes me.
“Whose blood is it?” Instead of being horrified, she still looks concerned, like she doesn’t believe it’s not my blood.
“Does it matter?”
I can feel myself getting frustrated all over again, and this time, I don’t even know why. She’s worried about me, trying to take care of me. I should be happy, yet I can’t shake my irritation. Is it because we’re acting like nothing happened earlier? Maybe. I don’t even know which part of today is more important, not after everything that happened.
“Of course, it matters! You just came home covered in blood, and you won’t even tell me what happened! What am I supposed to think?” Now she’s getting as frustrated as I was when I left. Good.
“What are you supposed to think? Isn’t it pretty obvious? I killed a man, Ainsley. I left the house, went to torture a man for no other reason than because I was angry, and then came back covered in his blood. Is that what you want to hear?”
Something in my words finally registers with her, and she takes a step back. Disbelief lights up her eyes, but I don’t comfort her. My arms itch to hold her, to tell her I’m still the guy she fell in love with, but I can’t. Because the longer I’m with her, the more I’m realizing that I’ve changed. My time without her changed me in ways that can never be fixed.
When she doesn’t respond, I walk by her, wanting to go take a shower. As I’m halfway up the stairs with my shirt already off, thinking all of this would have been easier if I would have just let her go, she speaks up.
“I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I’m sorry.”
But she did say it. Not once, but twice. Last night I took her sorry and thought she was done comparing me to Carlos, but then it just happened all over again. Her sorry’s are nothing more than an attempt to not be the bad guy, so I can fill that role instead. I won’t play that game.
Completely ignoring her, I continue walking until I reach my bedroom door, which I walk through and shut behind me. I can take a shower and think about what to do next. Before I throw my phone on the nightstand, I read the text lighting up on my screen.
Ethan: Tomorrow night. Six o’clock.
Tomorrow night. I have until tomorrow night to figure out what I’m going to do now. I told her she could leave, which means if she decides to stay instead of coming back with me after dinner, I should let her. What am I supposed to do in the next twenty-four hours to convince her to stay, anyway?
With frustration I thought I had gotten rid of, I throw my phone on the bed and strip out of my sweatpants, letting them join the bloody shirt lying on the floor. I should probably burn those so they don’t end up being used as evidence against me in the future.
When the warm spray of the shower hits me a few minutes later, I let my head hang under the water. The water runs out of my hair and drips off my nose, falling to the floor as I watch, letting my mind go blank.
“I’m sorry,” comes a sweet voice from behind me. Great. I thought I was done hallucinating she was with me, but apparently not. Why can’t I just get a break?
Cold arms wrap around my middle, pulling me back into a small frame and away from the water. Her hand traces over the bandage between my hips, sending a shiver down my spine. No matter how angry I am, no matter what happens, I’ll always be marked as hers.
Except, when I hallucinate her, I never feel her. She touches me, and I remember what her touch used to feel like, but I don’t actually feel her. Right now, I can feel her.
She’s here. In the shower with me, naked and vulnerable. And it was her own choice.
“You said that already,” I remind her, again not really accepting the apology.
“And I meant it,” she comes back with. She’s frustrated, wishing this was as easy as apologizing and moving on, but it won’t be.
“You said you were sorry when you did it last night. Yet, you did it again. Your sorry means nothing.”
I feel bad for saying it, and I have to stop myself from taking it back. I’ve never treated her this way. When I’m with her, I always try to be my best self. I try to be kind, forgiving, and everything else she deserves in a man. I can’t keep doing that if she’s going to keep walking all over me, though.
“Then what else can I do?” Her hand trails lower, finding the way my body is reacting to her touch. I can’t control it, just like I can’t help leaning into her touch as she wraps her hand around me tightly.
“Nothing, Ainsley. It’s my turn to need some space.” I try to pull away from her, but she doesn’t let me.
“I don’t accept that,” she says, sounding much calmer than she must feel. With her hand wrapped around me, she slides it out as far as she can reach, nearly reaching the tip as a groan I can’t control falls from my lips.
“If you won’t accept my apology, then you’ll accept this. Because this is how we connect best.” She brings her hand back down until I can feel her fist pushing into me. Looking down, needing to watch her hand work, I watch as she reaches out again, as far as she did the first time.
“Do you want to know why I didn’t take the chance to leave?” I nod, still watching her hand work me. “Because I missed you.” Her hand pumps, sliding all the way out, and then back again. “Because I’ve been sleepwalking through my life since I was taken from you, and being back here makes me feel alive.” Pump. “Because when I’m here with you, it’s easier to forget why I wanted to stay away.” Pump. “Because when this week is over, going back to my life is going to feel like being taken away from you all over again.”
Her pace is killing me, too slow for me to actually get anything from it but just enough to make me want to take over and come all over her. Make her nice and dirty so I can clean her up.
“Then don’t leave,” I growl. If she doesn’t want to go back, then why is she going to? Why admit this to me if it changes nothing for her?
“We’re not good together,” she states like it’s a fact. With a growl, I rip her hand off me and twist around, making her face me.
“I’ll show you just how good we are together.” Before she can react, I back her up into the wall. I grab her leg and wrap it around my waist at the same time I thrust inside of her, burying my cock in her wet, tight pussy. This is exactly what she wanted. “Feel that? We fit together perfectly.”
As I pull out and thrust back in, I grab her hand and place it over my chest. “And that? It only beats for you.”
Leaving her hand on my chest as I continue pumping inside of her, taking the pleasure she was trying to drag out, I twist the hair at the base of her skull around my hand and pull, forcing her to look up at me.
“And this? I know what you want, and I’m not afraid to give it to you.”
Her hand leaves my chest to squeeze between us as she finds her clit, strumming it to bring herself to orgasm. “You think we aren’t good together because you haven’t actually given us a chance.”
She cries out as the pleasure becomes too much, and no matter how angry I am, that sound will always be my undoing.
“Let yourself give in. If, at the end of this week, you still think we aren’t a good match, then fine. I won’t try to convince you otherwise.”
This time, I have full confidence in what I’m saying, unlike when I told her to leave earlier. If she stops fighting me, she’ll see that we belong together, just like I do. She just needs to give in.
“No,” she cries out, trying to think through what I’m saying while getting close to the orgasm I refused her earlier. I pull her up, wrapping both of her legs around my waist, and sit still. As I look into her eyes, I let her see every emotion I’m feeling right now.
Love. Passion. Anger. Hurt. Confidence.
“Give in, Ainsley,” I command her.
“Punish me,” she says back, catching me completely off guard. Her hands stops moving between us, giving up on her orgasm right now. “I hurt you, and my apology isn’t enough this time. Punish me.”
“Give in and I’ll forgive you,” I tell her instead.
“Punish me.”
It’s a battle of wills now. Who’s going to cave first? I pull my cock out of her, feeling the ache from being without her, and drop her to her feet.
“Get out,” I command her. After shutting the water off, I follow her out of the shower, not bothering to get either of us a towel as I direct her to the bedroom.