Page 69 of Monsters Carve Thrones

I watched the flicker of pleasure in his expression, then turned back toward the mirror, the perfect reflection of his obedient little doll.

Thankfully, the fucker left me alone most of the day. It wasn’t until after dinner that Riley came in with my change of clothes. Because, obviously, I couldn’t attend this meeting in grey athletic shorts and a lacy white tank that did nothing to hide my nipples.

The black dress they made me wear was tight, uncomfortable, and clearly chosen by Waylon. It clung to my ribs, covering the bruises hidden beneath delicate silk. My wrists were free tonight, but only because he wanted to show me off, not because I was trusted.

I followed behind him like a well-trained dog. I kept my head low, with sharp glances from Riley every few minutes.

The meeting room was just off the eastern wing of the estate. Its long, oak-paneled walls were decorated with mounted animal heads and oil paintings that probably cost more than most lives. The table stretched the length of the room, draped in fine linen, and littered with crystal glasses, dark liquor, and a haze of smoke.

They were already waiting for us–eight men, maybe nine, all in suits or coats. Grimy, greedy eyes shifted as Waylon entered. And then they landed on me.

A few of them chuckled low. One whistled.

Waylon didn’t correct them. He grinned.

I didn’t recognize any of them from the previous meetings he’d forced me to attend. He was showing me off to many of the powerful men in Rafe’s world. He wanted them to know that he had“brought Rafe to his knees,”but really, he signed his own death warrant. One of those men wouldtalk when Rafe found them. And then he’d find me. So really, Waylon was just being fucking stupid.

His ego would literally be the death of him.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “I brought a little inspiration tonight.”

He pulled me to his side with a hand at my waist. I stayed still, not flinching even as his fingers pressed into my sore ribs.

“This one?” he said, tilting my chin up. “This one used to belong toRafe Vaughan.” That got their attention. A few leaned forward. One of them swore under his breath.

“Bullshit,” a man with a crooked nose muttered. He had blonde hair, brown eyes, and a distinct scar over his left eyebrow.

Waylon’s grin spread. “That’s right, Parvy. I took her right from his world. Broke her piece by piece. Had to ride her a little hard, but now she kneels when I say the word. She’s a good girl.”

Laughter broke out across the table, but it sounded more like barking. Hungry. Animalistic. I stood still, breathing shallow, letting their eyes crawl over me without blinking.

“She’s mine now,” Waylon said. “And the greatRafe Vaughan?He’s hunting. He’s desperate. There’s already a trail of corpses piling up behind him.”

They knew it. I saw the brief flickers of uncertainty in their eyes, of fear beneath all their false bravado. But none of them would admit it. Rafe Vaughan wasThe Dark Monster of NYCand was as unhinged as they came. They all fucking knew that.

My back teeth gnashed together, my jaw tightening. My husband was coming for me. My gaze fell to the crown tattoo around my wrist and then to my wedding band. Surprisingly, he let me keep it. Riley believed it was to taunt me, a constant reminder of the man I married that I no longer belonged to.

“He’s coming,” Waylon said, still smiling. “But he’s not getting past these walls. I’ll kill him before he ever sees her again. Might make him watch what I do to her every single day.”

I couldn’t stop myself. I finally lifted my head, my eyes snapping right to his. “Then you don’t know him at all,” I said, my voice quiet and sharp as glass.

The room went still.

A few men glanced between us with raised brows. Waylon’s hand clamped down tighter on my waist, nails digging in. His voice was low. “Careful, kitten.”

I smiled sweetly. “You really thinkyou’regoing to be able to killhim?You don’t understand what he is. You don’t know what you’ve taken. You have no idea that the moment you took me, you signed your fucking death warrant.”

Waylon’s jaw twitched. “Enough,” he growled. “Get on your knees.”

But I didn’t move.

A ripple of tension rolled through the room. Everyone was watching. Waiting. And I knew it was a gamble, one I couldn’t win physically, but I could damn sure winmentally.I knew that this would piss him off and he’d likely drag me away and assault me. He loved doing that while angry. My now frail body took every slap, brutal thrust, choke, and shove. But my mind was still fighting.

So I stepped forward and placed a hand on the table, leaning across it to look Parvy dead in the eye. “If you think aligning with Waylon is going to protect you when Rafe arrives, then you’re more suicidal than loyal.” My voice was gritty and low.

Gasps. A few muffled laughs.

Then, a hand tangled in my hair. Waylon yanked me back with a snarl, slamming me forward over the table and jerking the leash that had been hidden beneath my collar. “Letme remind you,” he hissed, pressing his mouth to my ear, “what happens when you forget your place.”