Page 140 of My Monster’s Keeper

But I can still hear her screams.

All there is to do is wait.

One chance. That’s all I need.

They won’t be able to stop me.

Chapter 40

Becky

Ithink he thought that I’d fall to my knees and wail and weep over my lost loves.

Sadly, I’m not that kind of girl. I keep my sadness on the inside.

I’ve taken every opportunity I can to hurt Grant. With great joy, I’ve stabbed him, thrown a brick at his head, admittedly, seeing the indent where I hit him was nauseating, pushed him into traffic, and poisoned him.

He’s dangerously less injurable than he used to be.

I just need something. All my plots and plans aren’t doing shit, though. And he’s getting impatient with my refusal to talk. I’m not closing those doorways. There is no chance. No fucking way.

I don’t care how long they torture me.

And they are relishing it. My body is aching from the bruises and broken bones, hunger gnaws at my stomach, and I can’t trust the water.

What I am doing is buying time. I’m studying them and learning.

The door opens, and I back up, glaring at the huge Fae with russet hair. He smiles at me and gestures at the wall. Jearis, pronounced Eris, is the world’s biggest suck up Fae. He puts out as often as I’ve seen anyone and spends more time on his knees servicing Fae, Demons, and Shadow kin alike. But he’s mean. He likes to hit me and twist my bones and skin, leaving bruises he traces with his fingers.

The wall crumbles loudly and, before I can turn, I’m held captive by a concrete manacle. I still fight it, but there’s no escaping this. Whatever flares of magic I had have deserted me, and now I’m human at the whim of these assholes who are getting dangerously creative with how they want to destroy me.

“Let me the fuck go!”

He laughs deeply and comes towards me with a syringe full of golden liquid.

“What is that?” I shriek, angling away from him.

“Oh, we’re just going to bring your omega full to the surface and watch you crawl. See if that gets things moving along.”

I kick at him, but he dodges in close and inserts the needle into my arm.

“Now, enjoy. We’re drawing straws to see who gets second go at you.”

I hiss, but he pulls the needle out of my arm and, without a backwards glance, stalks out.

Oh, shit.

Within an hour, I’m burning up, whimpering and rolling around on the floor. I feel like I need to rub against something, anything, but when I put my hand in my pants, it does nothing except soak my fingers in slick.

The terror is real.

They are going to come and rape me, and I will gladly give myself to them while my mind is screaming inside. I don’t want to be a slave to my body.

A purr starts in my chest, and I rub my face against the walls, marking my territory. This small, unclaimed space is now my nest.

And no one is welcome in it.

Tears stream down my cheeks, and I shed my clothes because they are too painful against my skin.