Page 19 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)

I exhale a long, shuddering breath. My anger is a physical force, fueled by my guilt.

I’ve never done to any mark what I did to Scarlett, because I’ve never blamed a mark for the death of my brother.

I’ve reached new lows of what I’m capable of doing, and even though I’d like to pin all the blame on Boyce, I recognize that it wouldn’t be entirely fair.

I could’ve double-checked what he told me.

I could’ve taken it easier on a twenty-one-year-old woman.

I could’ve been the man that Sam believed me to be… but instead, I became a fiend.

I turn and silently follow Cain out of the room.

We head into the elevator together. Instead of hitting the ground floor so I can check on Scarlett, make sure she’s still alive and feisty, Cain hits the button for the fourth floor.

He pins me with a flat stare. “I think it’s time we talk about the things you didn’t want to hear before. ”

Right. Our meeting with Eric, the weapons dealer.

Cain’s mounting rebellion against Boyce’s rules.

He’s planning something, and it seems like now’s the right time for me to be let in on his plans.

The horror of what I did to an innocent girl combined with my sheer rage with Boyce and the prospect of owning the girl I wanted to kill less than a day ago… it’s hit a reset button on my brain.

While my thoughts are being torn in dozens of different directions…

I’m finally thinking clearly after months of living in a rageful fog.

Whatever Cain’s plans are, I’m ready to step up and play my role—especially if it leads to Boyce’s death.

I’m willing to work with Cain, even though I’m pissed with him for keeping his suspicions of Scarlett’s innocence to himself.

He made comments here and there regarding his doubts, but he never truly impressed them on me. Not the way he should’ve.

And yet… I know I could’ve given more credence to his comments; I just didn’t want to.

We go to my apartment, which I sweep for bugs and recording devices daily. The Nighthawks are meant to be a circle of trust, but Boyce would be stupid not to notice the growing discontent with his leadership. It’s possible that he’ll start trying to listen in on his operative’s conversations.

I close the door behind me and head up to the flatscreen mounted on the wall across from the couch.

I run my fingers beneath the underside of the TV until they catch on the device I use to search my place for bugs, then pull the little device from its hiding place.

After giving my apartment a thorough once-over, checking the office, bedroom, and open-floor living room/kitchen, I rejoin Cain in the living room .

Even though it’s only early afternoon, he’s helping himself to some of my whisky.

He offers me a glass, and I stare at it hard, contemplating.

Now would be a premier time to break my streak of sobriety, to get drunk so I can numb the relentless fucking guilt I can’t shed, but…

Sam would smack me over the head and warn me to stop being a dumbass, and he’d be right.

I shake my head, knowing I need to be clearheaded for Scarlett. Boyce is actively targeting her—I promised her I’d protect her, and I will. In a way, claiming her as my toy is protecting her, even if it comes with a few caveats…

“You’re staying sober,” Cain remarks. “Good. Now, sit down and let’s talk.”

My limbs feel like they weigh a thousand pounds as I cross the room and take a seat on the couch.

I’m conflicted, and my thoughts are centered on Scarlett.

Could I actually do what Cain suggested and Boyce authorized?

Treat her as a toy, effectively a sex slave?

My cock certainly likes the idea, but as for the rest of me…

she’s been hurt enough. She deserves to be free, even though the mere thought of letting her go leaves a foul taste in my mouth.

“Boyce’s leadership is coming to an end very soon,” Cain says. “For the years he’s been in charge, he’s given the Nighthawks a bad rep. Missed contracts. Failed ops. Screwing around when he should be working. The underground is questioning him, and by extension, all of us.”

“You’re going to kill him,” I deduce.

“And you’re going to help me,” Cain says. “You know he needs to be taken down. And the Nighthawks need to shift back to what they once were. Our organization goes back nearly three hundred years. We have roots that are entwined with the roots of this nation—”

“I don’t need a history lesson,” I interrupt. “I know the Nighthawks have a long track record. I also know we started off as bandits and thieves in the late 1700’s, killing for the revolution.”

“And then we advanced,” Cain says. “We morphed into assassins that work in the dark. We became fearsome. We developed technology faster than the rest of the world combined—we weren’t just the best at killing, we were the best at protecting our killers.

We were insular. Covert. Extremely successful.

And we had several traditions that have been lost under weak leadership. ”

I tilt my head to the side, understanding dawning. “You don’t just want to take over; you want to reform .”

“Yes,” Cain confirms. “And it’s not something I want to do, it is something I will do. I want you as my second, but I need to know that our… ideologies align. That you’re with me one hundred percent.”

“You think now is the right time to ask me that?” I question dubiously. “You just told me that you suspected Scarlett was telling the truth, and you continued torturing her. You continued letting me torture her.”

Cain shrugs. “I kept you from mutilating her too badly or killing her.”

“That does not make it better,” I snap.

Cain locks a blank gaze on me. “If you’re with me, then you’ll be able to keep her. Permanently. She’ll be yours forever, to do with what you wish. If you want to protect her, you can do that. If you want to use her as your sex slave, you can also do that. She’ll belong to you.”

My heart pounds vigorously in my chest and goosebumps rise on my skin. My reaction to his words is instantaneous and visceral; an insatiable curiosity, a need rises up within me, turning into a roaring beast that’s completely foreign to me yet feels so good .

What Cain’s saying, that I will effectively own Scarlett, is preposterous. I should absolutely say no, but… the thought of her belonging to me makes an impression. It feeds into the fantasies I’ve been trying to hold at bay. It feels so goddamn right, even when I know it’s completely wrong.

“I can see you like the idea,” Cain says approvingly.

“In the old days, when the Nighthawks were closed off from the rest of the world, each one would claim a woman. Each killer would have His Chosen, to do with as he wished. The Chosen were highly regarded and honored members of the organization. One of them built out infrastructure for our medical wing that revolutionized our ability to keep operatives alive.”

I blink slowly, trying to process his absolute insanity. He couldn’t have possibly just suggested that we revert to an archaic tradition that involves kidnapping women, taking them away from their lives, and claiming them. He did not do that. It’s ridiculous. It’s not just illegal, it’s im moral .

Except… the idea does have its merits. The guys wouldn’t be distracted by pussy.

They’d keep their focus on their work. Whoever they claimed would live with them and be theirs.

And yet, this feels like a scenario that’s ripe for abuse.

It feels like human trafficking, which is disgusting.

Making slaves out of women isn’t sexy or appealing, but having every guy claim, covet, and protect their chosen…

“If you want to give our guys punching bags for them to abuse, then our ideologies do not align,” I say carefully.

Cain scoffs. “Don’t insult me. I’m not suggesting that we have our men kidnap women to abuse.

Nighthawks will only be eligible for the honor of claiming a woman if they’ve proven themselves sane and worthy.

We can set up a system of checks and balances to ensure that the women don’t become victims of domestic violence.

They will ultimately be treated with respect, but I believe a…

training period is necessary. Being taken here will be a drastic change to adjust to, so whoever claims them will have a pre-determined amount of time to train them in whatever non-violent way they see fit.

Sexually, emotionally, psychologically…” Cain shrugs. “Whatever works.”

“This is fucked up,” I mutter.

“This is a renewed tradition,” Cain counters. “And the girl trapped in the annex right now? She’ll be the first. Consider her a beta, if you choose to claim her. If not, then we’ll hold her as leverage for a while.”

“Leverage? Her father wants her dead.”

“Not leverage against her father. I have suspicions that she might have connections with someone else. I’m not sure yet, but once I’m certain, I’ll read you in.”

I know I should read into Cain’s words more.

The last suspicion he kept to himself resulted in ten days of torturing an innocent woman.

But… he’s most likely referring to a boyfriend of hers, or whoever put her up at college.

Maybe a rogue associate of her father’s.

I’d press Cain, but I know him well enough to know he won’t divulge what he knows until he’s good and ready.

“If you don’t choose to keep her, then we let her go after a time. Set her up with enough money and resources to live out a nice life,” he goes on.

“I’m not letting her go.” The words are out of my mouth before I can even think them over.

No, setting Scarlett free, not being around to protect her or keep an eye on her…

I can’t do it. But if the alternative is claiming and training her, can I bring myself to do that?

The darker parts of me crave owning her, but my logical mind screams how messed up it is.

Fortunately for my baser instincts, my logical mind only goes so far in the face of my uncontrollable need to have Scarlett.

The seed for my obsession with her was planted the moment I saw her pictures—the way she handled the last ten days watered the seed, prompting it to sprout.

Until now, it was buried under mounds of resentment and disdain…

but Cain’s just given it sunlight. Now, I can’t get the thought out of my head.

“Thought so,” Cain says with a nod. “So, let’s discuss a beta version of a training regimen.”