Chapter Two
Scarlett
“So… any chance you’d want to get that drink tonight?”
I’ve heard this request from Cedric numerous times. He’s young, attractive, and brilliant. He’s almost as crafty as I am when it comes to our work at the university—almost. In another life, I might’ve agreed to go out on a date with him.
Not now. Now, I can appreciate his blond locks that glimmer under the fluorescent light of the lab, his warm smile, and his mild mannerisms. I can admire his qualities. But I can’t bring myself to look at him for too long, let alone touch him. Going out with him is out of the question.
I give him a wan smile, shrugging off my lab coat and folding it over my arm. “Sorry,” I say, picking up my purse. “I have a date with my cat.”
He chuckles. “That’s the answer you give me every time I ask.” He scratches his head. “Are you… are you dating someone else?”
I smile wanly. “No, Ced. I just… had a pretty bad situation with someone before I moved to town. I’m not really looking for anything physical…
or romantic.” I’m just trying to heal and take things one day at a time.
I still go through terrible periods; moments when I struggle getting out of bed, when the memories of my time in that cell are so intrusive, so visceral, it feels like I’m being tortured all over again.
The depression is bad. The panic attacks are worse.
For the first month after my escape, while Eric was getting me set up to move somewhere far away from my old school, I was a fucking mess.
Eric insisted on me seeing a mental health professional who prescribed me a collection of pills that numbed out the pain…
and made me forget my own name. I flushed those down the toilet and resolved to deal with my shit on my own, without outside help. As I always have.
Even though the bad periods make time feel like it’s slowing to a crawl… I know I’m getting better, inch by inch. I still look over my shoulder. I still assume that people will exploit or hurt me rather than help me. But, at least I can smile at my coworkers and survive on the fringes of society.
Understanding flashes in Cedric’s eyes. Like I said, in a different life, I might’ve had interest in him—whether or not I would’ve acted on it.
He’s lean, fit, and classically charming.
Polite and very well-mannered. Comes from a wealthy family, yet chose to pursue academia.
Both of us are doing lab work at the university we graduated from a few months ago in hopes that our professor will give us stellar recommendation letters for Ph.D programs.
“Got it,” he says, nodding. “I’m sorry for asking so many times.”
A morsel of guilt pangs through my chest. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously. You’re lovely, and in case you haven’t noticed, Cecilia has her eyes on you.”
Cece has been working here for well over a year, yet she hasn’t done anything impressive enough to earn a stellar recommendation.
To be fair, she’s not a terrifically hard worker, and she spends most of our time in the lab giving Cedric fuck-me eyes rather than researching and experimenting, as we’re supposed to do.
Cedric smiles a bit, shaking his head. “She’s not my type.”
“What’s your type?”
He gazes right at me. “Girls who are so smart, it doesn’t matter if they’re beautiful. Their brains are attractive enough alone.”
I feel my cheeks heat. “I should get going. Luci will be hungry.”
Cedric’s brows briefly furrow. “Luci?”
“Lucifer,” I clarify. “My cat. I found him when he was a hissing, spitting kitten, alone in the rain and crying for his mom. She was nowhere to be found, and he tried to claw my face off when I picked him up.” Luci was incredibly feisty for the first several weeks, scratching and biting me.
I think he might’ve been abused by previous owners, when he was just a newborn, before being turned out.
Over time, he softened, and now he’s my little snuggle-bug.
He’s probably the most therapeutic thing in my life.
“Oh.” Cedric blinks. “Well… good luck with him.”
“Thanks.” I nod. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“See you Monday.”
I live in a crumbling apartment building on the south side of town, where walking alone at night can easily become a tricky, uncomfortable, dangerous experience.
I try not to walk after dark, but in any case, I’m always armed.
When I pull late nights at a lab, a lovely woman who works as a bouncer at the strip club down the street walks me home from the bus stop.
It’s already dark outside when I step off the bus, but I only have a half-mile trek home, so I take it at a brisk jog, thanking whatever higher power exists that I work in a lab where sneakers are recommended instead of heels.
My thoughts are trained on Luci, who’s really become an emotional support and therapy animal for me.
The few times I’ve allowed Eric to come over, which is no longer a common occurrence, Luci has tried to gouge his eyes out.
My cat is okay around women now—he doesn’t seem to mind the female vet he sees for his shots—but he doesn’t like men. I suspect he was abused by a man.
We have that much in common. My life has been a cycle of abuse from men, starting out with my father and progressing onto the horrors Monster inflicted on me.
I manage to scurry my way up the deteriorating steps of the old grand townhouse that was transformed into an apartment building, unlock the front door that will probably break down with the next storm, and trot up the stairs to the second floor.
The floors pulse with pounding music coming from my neighbor’s apartment—something that irritates Luci and I alike to no end.
But, no matter how many times I complain to my landlord, my neighbor doesn’t pipe the fuck down.
I’ve contemplated calling the police several times, but I try to stay as low on the radar as possible.
If it’s possible to avoid law enforcement, I will.
I stride down the dim, creaky hallway, only to freeze in front of my door.
It’s cracked open.
It’s fucking cracked open.
My heart stutters in my chest, then breaks out into a flurry of chaotic heartbeats. My breaths quicken, and cold sweat gathers on the back of my neck.
I spent half of my first meager paycheck from the lab on a good security system for my apartment—a small comfort.
If it were Eric who broke in, he’d have texted me.
More, he’d have called far in advance, asking if he could come over.
He’s spent the last nine months walking on eggshells around me, ever since I voiced my desire to cut as many ties between us as possible.
The only people who could possibly be here are my father… or Monster. I don’t know which one would be worse.
Monster. If my father got his hands on me, I’d kill myself. Monster wouldn’t allow me to kill myself.
In either case, it’s time to run. Whoever left my door cracked must’ve done so deliberately, to let me know they were here. Maybe to give me a head start on running? Or as a fear tactic? I don’t know, and I don’t care.
I spin around on my heel and take off… but only get one step before crashing into a hard chest. My lips part around a scream, but a hand covers my mouth, preventing it.
I scratch, kick, claw, and screech behind the large hand, to no avail.
A strong, buff arm bands around my waist, plastering my arms to my sides, and I finally look up to get a glimpse at whoever it is.
Red hair. Freckled nose. Whisky-colored eyes.
It’s Max.
Max?
If he’s here… oh, dear fucking god. Adrenaline lights up my veins, fear seeps into my bones and sets my body shivering with a tremble, and memories—horrible, painful memories rattle around my mind.
“Scarlett,” he says, keeping his voice only loud enough to be heard over my neighbor’s music. “Stop fighting and listen. I don’t know when I’ll get to talk to you next.”
I inhale a sharp, shuddering breath. “Please,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Please let me go. You’re not like him—”
“Stop talking and listen. I only have a moment.”
Realization settles heavily into my bones. There’s no escape. Even if I get out, if Max is here, Greyson’s here, and he probably has others with him. I remember what he said the last time I saw him—his promise to find me.
In other words, I’m fucked.
“Get rid of any misconceptions you have that I’m a good guy,” Max says harshly.
“I’m not. I’m not a kind person. You may think I am because I helped you walk, but I only did that because I was ordered to by my superior—Greyson.
” Max blinks slowly, and I think I see a brief flash of guilt in his eyes.
“Scarlett… the best thing you can do right now is give in.”
I shake my head frantically. “I can’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me.”
“Killing you is the last thing he’ll do. He wants to keep you, not harm you.”
“You didn’t see him in the cell, Max,” I whisper, my words seeped in horror as memories invade my mind.
“He was insane. He is insane. He’ll slip and kill me eventually.
If you won’t let me run, then please, kill me yourself.
” My gut tells me that Max would be a kind executioner.
Greyson would be as cruel and merciless as he’s always been—systematic, ruthless, and sadistic.
I nearly killed him; he’ll retaliate against that with torture.
I’d rather die than be put in a cell again.
“You’re wrong,” Max says. “You don’t have a choice in coming back, but you have a choice with how you’ll handle it. Greyson is in love with you.”
“No, he’s obsessed with me!”
Max nods. “He is, and he’s in love with you.
And he’s furious with you. You didn’t see him these last nine months, Scarlett.
He’s…” Max breaks off with a shudder. “It was bad. It only got better when he knew you were close. There are a lot of things in store for you, but none of them involve pain. If you rebel or resist, though, it’ll be tough.
You might prefer pain over what he’ll do. ”
I swallow harshly. There was a moment, after Monster had taken me to his apartment and vowed to never hurt me again, that he used a certain interrogation technique that broke me—after weeks of painful torture failed to do so.
He weaponized pleasure against me, and it worked…
to the point when I no longer wanted to defy him.
The look on Max’s face tells me that weaponized pleasure will be the very least I’m in for.
I can’t go back. I can’t do that to myself. I’m just starting to heal; I can’t lose the progress I’ve made. I refuse to live out my life as a slave, and I have one final ace up my sleeve that could grant me my freedom.
“You’re as bad as he is, aren’t you?” I ask Max softly.
“Even worse… because I think you are a good person deep down, and you’ve buried that with so much rot it’s hidden.
Monster was never good, so he’s a different story.
” Max’s eyes shutter as my words hit him, hopefully making him take a nice, long look at himself.
I gently twist in his grip, and this time, he lets me go.
I put my hand over his, gazing into his eyes.
“Don’t become like him,” I beg. “Don’t become like Greyson or Cain.
Get out before you’re told to take a sex slave of your own, please. ”
Max swallows harshly, taking a sudden step back. I give him a slow nod, then turn to face my door, straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders.
It’s time to pay the piper.