Page 23 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)

“Please stop.” I shake my head. “ No . If my options are death or being claimed by you, then I choose death. And if you won’t kill me, I will kill you .

” I never thought I’d turn into a murderer.

I was determined to be different from my father and my brother, but it turns out that when killing someone is the only option, it becomes easy to conceptualize.

Instead of getting offended, Monster smirks . “You’re welcome to try, but that’ll lead to a punishment you won’t enjoy.”

My blood runs cold. I can almost feel it drain from my face as I stare at him with undisguised terror. If I disobey him, he’ll go back to hurting me. If I don’t kill him, I’ll live in misery.

“No, Scarlett. Not like that. Not like…” his jaw clenches. “I will never hurt you again. ”

I let out a half-laugh, half-sob. “So said every abusive man ever.”

Monster sighs. Releases my shoulders and leans back.

Gazes at my thigh for a while. “I know you don’t believe me or trust me right now, and that’s okay.

Denial is the first step. You’ll see that I’m telling the truth, and you’ll trust me.

” He stands from the bed. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here. ”

I shake my head, leaning farther into the wall. I’d rather stay here than go anywhere with this psycho. “No.”

“Scarlett.” His voice has deepened into that no-nonsense one again. “Come.”

I blink a few times. “I…” I can’t exactly walk, but I don’t want to find out if he’s telling the truth about not hurting me anymore. I’m certain he isn’t, and I don’t think I can take any more injuries.

Maybe the next injury really will kill me … Maybe I should be provoking him.

I awkwardly push my legs over the side of the bed.

Even that slight movement causes my breathing to turn labored, as if I’ve just sprinted a mile.

Monster offers me his hand, and I ignore it.

I lean heavily on my good leg and hold the edge of the bedframe, only touching the toe of my bad leg to the ground for balance.

When I think I might not fall over, I release the bedframe and straighten.

Immediately, black spots appear in my vision, and I feel my body start to tilt.

Then, arms catch me. Monster’s arms close around me, and he sweeps me up, holding me to his chest. The switch of positions ignites a burn in my thigh.

That, combined with the fact that Monster’s holding me, makes me whimper.

So many emotions swirl through my body, I’m not sure how to discern them or which takes precedence.

Fear. Tension. Pain. Sorrow. Heartbreak. Desolation. Anxiety. Despair.

“I’ve got you,” Monster says quietly, gazing down at me .

The force of his stare prompts me to start to wriggle, even though that worsens the pain in my thigh until it’s almost insurmountable. “Please, I can walk—”

“No. I won’t put you down, so stop asking. You’re weak, sick, and injured. The only thing you should be doing is resting.” He watches me, a hard glimmer in his eyes. “Rest your head on my chest. Close your eyes.”

“No.”

“Scarlett,” he warns. “Do it. Don’t make me ask again.”

Fear prevails over my distaste of the position, of touching him or relying on him in any way. If I disobey, he’ll hurt me again. I’m sure of it. I lay my head against his chest, my neck stiff, and squeeze my eyes shut, wondering what sins I’ve committed that brought me here. That led to this .

I know that Monster hurt me because he thought I played a role in his brother’s death.

Logically, I know this, and honestly… if anyone hurt my brother, it’d probably turn me into a psycho torturer, as well.

But knowing his reasons doesn’t absolve him of his crimes.

I told him I was innocent, again and again.

I held out under torture that would’ve cracked me on day one if I had anything to say.

I begged, begged him not to call my father.

He pushed over the first domino that has led to this, that’s brought me here. No future unless I can somehow escape, and I won’t be in the right state of mind to do that for quite some time. Not until my thigh no longer hurts and my lungs start cooperating.

But I have to start planning my escape even now. Thinking through how I’ll do it when the time comes.

So, I crack my eyelids by the tiniest fraction, just enough so I can see where we’re going.

Monster carries me through a maze of hallways until we approach a door.

He types a number into a keypad—3147—and the door unlocks with a beep.

He opens it one handed while still holding me tight, and then we’re outside.

The air is frigid, biting. Cold enough to make me shiver, but it still feels so damn good . It’s the first sip of fresh air I’ve had in what feels like an eternity. I wish I could inhale fully so I could get more of it.

Instead, I focus on what I can see. Grass fields and stone pathways leading between buildings—three that I can make out, including the prison I just came from.

Monster starts walking us to the largest building in the center, one that’s about six stories high.

It’s made of grey concrete and almost looks industrial, but it’s obviously not a factory.

The side facing us is littered with uniform windows—some are lit up, others are dim.

We venture closer and closer until he opens the front door.

I’m greeted by a large, open, barren entryway with bright lights illuminating it.

The entrance branches out into countless hallways—four that I see.

My eyes start to droop from an unexpected wave of exhaustion, but I force them to stay open.

Force myself to try to make out my surroundings, and memorize as much as I can.

Unfortunately for me, Monster walks fast, and my brain is fuzzy.

After a short elevator ride and a walk down a strangely sterile hall, lined with doors on both sides, we arrive in front of another door with a keypad.

My vision’s too blurry for me to make out the code on this one.

Once it’s open, Monster takes me inside, and I see that his apartment is a bachelor pad.

The open floor plan reveals a living room with a black couch, facing a large flatscreen TV mounted on the wall opposite it.

A coffee table sits between them, its surface clutter-free.

In the right corner of the room, a dark wood dining table large enough to seat four stands before a midsized window.

The far-left side of the room is a kitchen that’s built for efficiency.

An island stands in its center, and a stove and sink line the counter against the wall.

A dishwasher and oven are tucked beneath the counter, alongside drawers.

Cupboards hang overhead, wrapping the wall like a grid.

I look for a knife block on the counters—I wasn’t exaggerating when I told Monster I’d kill him. I don’t want to, but I don’t have another choice, so I seek out something sharp and useful—only to come up empty.

“Why are your eyes open?” Monster asks casually, walking through a doorway connected to the side of the living room. “I remember telling you to close them.” We enter a minimalistic bedroom, with a large bed bracketed by night stands. A bathroom door is cracked open on the left wall.

Monster lowers me down onto the center of the huge bed, a soft mattress that immediately morphs around me.

He gentles my top half down with one hand cupped behind my head and another supporting my back, all the while staring at me. I didn’t know he was capable of such softness .

Monster moves to the headboard and starts propping pillows up against it.

“You should sleep sitting up,” he says. “It won’t be forever.

Just… until the antibiotics can start doing their work to get you better.

” I struggle my way to my elbows, determined to reclaim some agency, and wriggle up toward the headboard.

Monster watches me struggle with this basic task, eyebrows furrowed.

Once I manage to get myself sitting up against the headboard, he nods at me.

“Good girl. Hopefully it’ll only be like this for a few days.

” He takes a step backward. “I’m going to grab you something to eat from the kitchens. ”

The thought of food makes me feel somewhat nauseous. “I’m not hungry.”

“It’s not up for discussion,” he responds immediately. “I’d tell you not to go anywhere, but I’m not worried about that.” Humiliation pangs in my gut at his clear implication; I’m too weak to even stand, so how could I possibly snoop around the apartment?

Rather than turning and walking out of the room, Monster steps forward again, placing a knee on the bed.

My breathing speeds, and each pound of my heart ignites a small ache in my chest. Monster leans forward until he’s bent over me.

“When you get better, I know you’ll give me hell.

And, to be honest, I can’t fucking wait to see what you come up with.

I can hardly wait to have good reason to punish you.

” He rubs his thumb over my cheek. “You’re going to be a handful. ”

I’m going to kill you , I think. If he goes forward with his decision to claim me, then he’s effectively putting us in a deathmatch that only one of us will walk away from.

He ghosts the pad of his index finger over my bottom lip. I try to keep it from trembling, though I can’t stop the tremor in my limbs.

The worst part is, I can’t define what’s causing me to shake like a leaf. I don’t know if it’s fear… or the close proximity of a man who’s built and tatted, with grey eyes like a brewing storm and a jawline that could cut diamond.

At this distance, if it can be called that, everything that he did to me begins to melt away, like a thin stream escaping a river.

My thoughts fog up, my hatred of him temporarily dissipates.

My eyes focus in on his tattoos, and the way his muscles tense and shift as he holds himself over me, leaning on his fists.

I momentarily forget about the grim fact that I’m probably going to have to end up killing this man.

It’s just him and me in a moment of suspended reality. Breathing each other’s scent and examining each other. Two chess players who have paused the game to admire each other.

“Be good,” he tells me, tapping my nose like I’m a child. Then, he’s gone, slinking out of the room with silent steps.