Chapter Three
Scarlett
Before I even step through the door, I already feel like I’m back in Monster’s apartment at the compound.
Back nearly a year ago, when he first plucked me out of that horrible cell and set me on his soft bed.
I’m transported to the moment I realized that Monster had put us in a deathmatch, and only one of us could walk away from it alive.
I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. I know that. When the opportunity presented itself, I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I went through with it—not when it would turn me into my father. Not when Monster had told me he loved me.
It feels like I’m opening a door to hell rather than the door to my apartment as I gently push it open, watching it swing inward with a creak.
My living room is simple. I couldn’t afford much since I refused to keep letting my brother pay for my living arrangements—which was probably yet another mistake.
If I let Eric support me, I would’ve been somewhere safer, somewhere with guards and a system that even an assassin would have a hard time bypassing.
In my desperation to escape any ties to the underground, I made myself a sitting duck. I would do so many things differently if given the chance…
There’s no TV in my living room. Only two old armchairs that came with the apartment, a coffee table I found discarded on a sidewalk, and a kitchen in the back that has a two-burner stove and oven that doesn’t work.
The Monster who haunts me sits on one of the armchairs, which has been turned to face the entryway.
He’s reclining in the seat, arms draped over the armrests, looking like a king on a throne rather than a man who broke into his former captive’s apartment.
His grey eyes pierce me with such intensity, they’re like a knife twisting in my chest. He’s more muscular than the last time I saw him, as if he’s been spending all his free time lifting weights.
His dark brown hair is slightly disheveled, and his angular jaw clenches as he takes me in.
“Flower,” he says, the nickname so soft I can barely hear it. “I’ve missed you.”
Panic swirls through every inch of my body, but it’s hardened with resolve. I know what I need to do; I just don’t want to do it. I don’t want to die, but I know how this ends—what’s been written into fate since the moment Monster kidnapped me.
I turn to face the door, giving myself a moment’s reprieve from the sight of him.
I gently shut the door, flicking the lock, then move over to the entry way beside it.
I open the drawer and drop my keys into it, then set my purse on top of it.
Quickly and quietly, I reach beneath the wooden table and snag the weapon I hid there in case a moment like this came to pass.
I turn to face Monster, this time with a gun in my hand. It’s dangling in my grip by my side, but it’ll take a single motion to aim it and pull the trigger. I’m just not sure where I’ll be aiming it yet.
In tense times like this, instinct tends to take over. Intuition is at the wheel, and everything else falls into the background. I don’t know what I’ll do yet, only that whatever I choose will be deadly to one or both of us.
Monster’s eyes fall to the gun, then meet mine once again.
“Put that away, Scarlett. You’ll only make things worse for yourself.” He lifts a hand and crooks a finger. “Come here. I think it’s time we had a chat, don’t you?”
No, I don’t. I think it’s time to put both of us out of our misery, once and for all.
“You’re not afraid,” I observe quietly. “Do you even know what fear is?”
“Of course, I know what fear is,” he responds. “Fear of losing you. Fear of never finding you. In the chaos of my life, Flower, the only person with the power to still make me afraid is you.”
My heart stutters at his words. They come out tense, almost resentful, which is what makes them all the more potent. Monster isn’t happy with the effect I have on him, but he freely admits it.
“You know what has to happen, right?” I question. “It might as well have been written in stone. You should’ve let me go, Monster. I got away from you once; you have to know that I’ll do anything to get away from you again.”
“Try all you like,” he invites. “You won’t succeed. Not this time. I lost you before, Scarlett—and I told you that you should’ve killed me if you wanted to be free. You didn’t. You couldn’t, because some part of you cares about me.”
I shake my head. “Don’t delude yourself.”
“I’m not the delusional one, Flower,” he replies softly. “We’ll get around to fixing your misconceptions. Now, put down the gun, and come here.”
I don’t listen to him. I can’t. Instead, with a lump in my throat, I click off the safety of the weapon, lift it, and aim it at Monster.
Not his head or his chest; I aim it at his legs.
Even now, I can’t turn into my father, but I can ensure that this torment, this fear that’s suffocated me my entire life, is snuffed out.
“Scarlett,” Monster says warningly. “Don’t.”
“Monster,” I reply softly. “You aren’t giving me a choice. You never have.”
I cock the weapon, wincing as the noise echoes through my small living room.
“Flower—”
I inhale a steeling breath.
Make my peace with what’s to come.
Then, I pull the trigger, and turn the gun to my own head.
I know I won’t get out of here. I won’t get past Max, let alone whoever else is lying in wait for me, but there’s another way I can escape.
One I never seriously contemplated because I always had hope, and when I lacked hope, at least I had anger. Now, I have…
“Scarlett!”
It’s only as Monster’s words penetrate my psyche that I realize there’s no blood seeping over his knee. He’s not roaring in pain.
He’s just roaring at me.
I inhale a soft gasp as realization dawns on me. The chamber’s empty. The gun’s useless.
Monster got to the gun before I did; of course he did. It isn’t jammed, it’s just a dud. To be absolutely sure, I pull the trigger again. And again, and again, each nonexistent shot aimed at my own head.
“Scarlett,” Monster repeats. His gaze is filled with a mixture of fury and pity. He shakes his head slowly, reaches into his pocket, and withdraws a handful of bullets.
A tear drips down my cheek, and my lower lip wobbles. My arm falls limply to my side, and the gun clatters to the floor with a resounding thwack. The only other gun stashed here is in my bedroom, and if Monster got to this one, he’ll have also gotten to that one.
I’m trapped.
Alone.
Forced to face the Monster who ruined me without backup.
A deep sadness, hopelessness, sinks into my bones. My knees buckle, nearly giving out, as I come face to face with a horrifying truth.
There is no escape. I can’t even die to escape.
“Sweet Flower,” Greyson says, shaking his head. He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Come here.”
I know I don’t have a choice. If I don’t comply, he’ll force me; that’s always been Monster’s way.
Either I obey the first time, or he makes me obey.
I’m too tired to refuse him. Maybe I’ll find my fire soon, but right now, I feel hollowed out, as if someone carved out my insides with a rusty spoon. I’m exhausted. I’m defeated.
I slowly cross the small distance separating us, until I’m standing two feet away from Monster.
My body trembles, and tears of loss drip from my eyes.
I know what comes next; he’ll take me back to the compound, and turn my life into a hellscape until he snaps and kills me.
He’ll torture me in whatever creative ways he can think up until I give in or die—whichever comes first.
I want to escape desperately, but I know there’s no escape.
Not now.
“Kneel,” Monster commands softly, his voice seeped in a familiar sort of dominance that almost always earned my compliance.
My knees buckle, and I ungracefully crash down to the floor.
A soft meow from the bedroom finally has my attention going elsewhere—I fix my gaze on the bedroom door, fear curdling in my stomach at the thought of Luci.
In my terror, I almost left him. Left him with Monster.
God, I’m the worst cat-mom ever, especially since Luci has been integral to my healing.
“The cat’s fine,” Monster assures me. “He tried to rip my face off, so I put him in your room.”
I swallow thickly, flicking a glance up to Monster’s face, searching for signs of deception. He’s a killer, a liar, and an abuser, which doesn’t speak well to his trustworthiness. I don’t trust him; I can’t trust him. A moment ago, I was desperate to kill myself if it meant getting away from him…
Because deep down, I know that if he gets me back to the hellhole that serves as Nighthawks headquarters, I’m never leaving again. I’ll be under his control every moment of every day, and I can’t imagine he’ll be merciful.
He reaches for me, and I instinctively flinch. His lips thin, but he doesn’t have the decency to back off—instead, he wraps a lock of my hair around his finger and gently tugs it, guiding my head to his knee.
“You know what comes next,” he murmurs softly. “Don’t you?”
My eyes flutter shut. I can’t find the voice to respond.
“I’m taking you back to where you belong,” he says, as if I require the clarification.
That gives me just enough of an edge to find my anger. “I will never belong with you,” I hiss. “Never.”
“I know you believe that now. That’s alright.
I have all the time in the world to change your perspective.
” He strokes a hand over my head, making me grimace.
“You have options,” he continues in that soft tone.
“I assume you’re attached to your cat. I’ll bring him with us…
if you show me that you can still be a good girl. ”
“Bring him with us so you can threaten him to control me?” I mutter furiously. “Go fuck yourself.”
“There’s my Scarlett,” he chuckles. “I won’t threaten him. I have no interest in harming innocents.”