Page 5 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)

Grey

I can’t bear to touch this siren unless I’m inflicting pain on her, so Cain’s the one who picks her up and carries her to the car. He deposits her in the trunk, gives her an injection with a strong sedative, then slams the trunk and turns to me. “Bit much, don’t you think?”

“No,” I seethe. “It’s nowhere near enough.”

“She put up a fight,” Cain murmurs. “Impressive.”

It was impressive. If she weren’t my enemy number one, I might’ve even admired the way she fought.

Her green, green eyes were sharp and catalogued every inch of me with almost mathematical precision, even as tears of pain were welling in them.

The first shock I gave her would’ve knocked out most men, but she kept going.

Then somehow continued on through the second.

I kept the taser on her for nearly a minute the third time.

Any longer, and I might’ve accidentally killed her.

While I will kill her very soon, it isn’t time yet.

She’ll have some knowledge about her father’s organization and the way he runs his operation.

I see it as my duty to extract every drop of intel she might have and then kill her. Slowly.

“Doesn’t matter how impressive she is,” I mutter, reminding myself. It also doesn’t matter how pretty she is—not when she’s weaponized her beauty to kill my only family . “She’ ll die.”

Cain tilts his head to the side. “You’ve never been eager to kill women,” he observes. “Always avoided those hits.”

Because hurting a woman leaves a foul taste in my mouth. But Scarlett Sharpe… “She is not a woman. She’s a thing . A demon. The monster who took my brother from me. She’ll receive no consideration from me.”

I slip into the passenger seat, and Cain gets into the driver’s side. He casts me a long, lingering glance. “Huh. Well, then, try not to kill her prematurely. Boyce has given us a month to get what we need and then end her.”

Feeling rage thrum from my very soul, I crack my neck. “Can’t make any promises.”

“Then I’m not going to leave you alone with her,” Cain says flatly. “She’s an asset. Only an idiot would kill a valuable asset before it’s been used up. Don’t be an imbecile, Greyson. I know your brother’s death has messed you up, but—”

“Do not ,” I snap, “speak about my brother. Don’t cross that fucking line, Cain.”

He slides me another glance as we turn onto the freeway and start speeding down the night’s road.

It’s a long drive. Cain gave the Sharpe girl a strong sedative, so she should be quiet for the drive, which is almost a shame.

I like the idea of her waking up, weak from being tased, and banging her pathetic hands against the trunk of the car. Panicking.

I wonder if Sam panicked like that . If, in his final moments, fear ever cracked through his resolve.

Knowing my brother, probably not.

No, Sam wouldn’t have begged or pleaded. Not even at the brink, not even under the worst torture imaginable. He was forged from something steadier, something unshakable, the kind of strength that most men crave but few can encompass .

It doesn’t matter now— he’s dead. The thought lands like a blade, sharp and cold.

I wasn’t there. I don’t know how he fell or how long it took. The only thing I know is he would’ve met any sort of pain with the same stern defiance he always showcased, his quiet, unyielding will. Sam never faltered, not even when the world demanded he break.

He was the cool, analytical one out of the two of us.

And yet, he was also kind. Friendly. Caring .

Our life didn’t ruin him the way it ruined me.

Our foster parents used to call us yin and yang—he was light and I was dark.

His lightness didn’t dull his sharpness, but he was never as quick to anger as I am.

Never as cruel or callous during our shared hits.

If it were me who died, he’d probably refuse to hurt Scarlett on account of her being a woman. Before his death, I might’ve even joined him in protesting the capture and torture of a woman.

But he’s gone. His loss has left a hole deep in my chest, something that can never be filled.

I don’t think even the satisfaction of killing Luther would make me feel much better…

but it would be well-deserved vengeance.

For now, I’ll settle for mutilating his only offspring and sending her back to him.

Cain clears his throat. “There’s discontent among the ranks. A lot of the Nighthawks are uneasy with some of the decisions Boyce has made. There have even been a few calls to remove him—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I interrupt. “I’m not in the right frame of mind.”

Cain takes his eyes off the road for a long moment, longer than he should while driving, and gazes at me. “All I need to know is if you’re with me. We can talk details later.”

“I’m with you,” I answer automatically. Cain and I have been tight ever since I was invited to the Nighthawks.

Sam liked Cain well enough, appreciated Cain’s punctuality and his passion for cool-headedness, but he always maintained that Cain’s a dangerous sociopath.

I can’t disagree, but he’s a dangerous sociopath who has my back.

Cain nods and returns his eyes to the road. “Good.”

We drive onto headquarters’ grounds, passing through the electronic gate, where a half-asleep guard waves us through the security checkpoint.

The compound sprawls five miles of land, gated and somewhat guarded, and most of it is a wasteland of neglect.

Dirt-packed roads cut through patches of overgrown brush.

Weeds strangle rusted fences, and tire tracks are worn deep into the earth.

At the center of the compound’s property, the land shifts—almost an illusion of order.

Stone pathways thread through the grounds, connecting three buildings: headquarters, the largest building that dominates the space; the annex, a squat and bleak prison; a training facility, with concrete walls stained by time and violence.

The grass here is half-heartedly trimmed, but weeds crawl through cracks of the stone pathways weaving between buildings, claiming whatever space they can.

Cain sneers and mutters something about the shit security and unkempt state of the land, like he’s personally offended by the mess.

Even though I barely hear it, I quip, “You want us all to be locked in here or something?”

“Would isolating us a little more thoroughly be so bad?” Cain asks.

“It’s not the Middle Ages anymore. We aren’t a fort with no connection to the outside world. ”

Cain casually lifts his shoulder in a careless shrug, turning the car onto the road that leads to our annex.

The annex is a building used exclusively as a jail and an interrogation chamber.

There are rooms in the place that make even me cringe.

I’ve never much liked the two-story, high-tech building, but I think I might grow a fondness for it over the next few weeks.

After all, Scarlett will be here. Waiting in darkness all day and night, knowing that any moment, I’ll return.

I haven’t felt excitement since Sam’s death, but shit , I’m excited to get to work on her. I want to break her; I want to see the light go out of those gorgeous green eyes.

“I assume you’re not going to carry her,” Cain says, pulling up in front of the annex’s reinforced front entrance.

I shake my head. “I’m not touching her unless the purpose is pain.”

“If you kill her before it’s time, I will hurt you,” Cain replies, his tone hard. He shifts the car into park and turns to glare at me. “I’m not fucking around. Right now, I need her alive. Do whatever you want to her, but don’t cut anything off or kill her.”

“She’s mine,” I retort. “Boyce gave her to me. She lured my brother to his agonizing death. It’s my prerogative to do whatever the hell I want with her.”

“Listen to me.” When Cain gets angry, his voice doesn’t boom; it grows deathly quiet. Almost like the low hiss of a snake just before it strikes. “Boyce assigned her to us . I have my own uses for her.”

Something about that strikes the wrong chord in me. Torture and death is one thing—it’s what we do to our marks regularly. But if Cain has other uses, sexual uses…

Aside from that being disgusting, because the girl is a Sharpe , we’re not rapists here.

Killers, yes, but even the men in our ranks don’t go that low.

I have absolutely no desire to defend the girl, but she is still a girl, and forcing one woman is a crime against all of them.

I saw too much bad shit growing up to ever condone rape or trafficking.

“Don’t,” I say quietly. “Not that. Torture and kill her, but—”

“Jesus, I’m not going to rape her,” Cain says. The genuine, albeit faint, disgust in his tone suggests he’s being honest. I never pegged him as that kind of guy, but the relief I feel is still undeniable. “Her life is useful to me in other ways.”

“What ways?” I demand.

Cain fixes an unblinking gaze on me. “You said earlier you weren’t in the frame of mind, so I won’t tell you.

When you’re ready, I will. Until then, don’t hurt the girl too bad or kill her.

Get what you want out of her, but we’re approaching this with surface-level interrogation.

Same shit the three-letter agencies do when they think no one’s looking. ”

Government agencies also get into some pretty dark shit. Maybe not as macabre as I’d prefer, but good enough—to start with. “Fine,” I say with a shrug. “But when the time comes, she’s mine.”

Cain doesn’t respond, simply staring at me with his dead eyes until it becomes uncomfortable. “Since you’re so fucking protective of her, you can haul her ass inside,” I say. “I’ll go let Boyce know we’ve got her.”

As expected, Boyce is elated at the news.

He’s also absolutely hammered after drinking all day, so I don’t stick around to get pulled into one of his rants about the woes of liberalism.

I don’t have the patience for him right now.

I don’t have the patience for anything except answers , and if Sharpe knows what’s good for her, she’ll give them up quickly.

Maybe then, I’ll only hurt her a bit before putting her out of her misery.

I stop by my room before heading to the annex, changing my clothes to get rid of my dirt-stained pants, and perusing the selection of knives displayed in my office bookshelf.

It’s a beautiful collection of handmade blades of different shapes and sizes, each of them a work of art.

I almost don’t want to use them on Scarlett, don’t want to taint them with her dirty blood.

Sam loved these knives. He tried to buy the collection off me countless times, but settled for borrowing them.

I select his favorite knife. Maybe this is the one I’ll kill her with…

Jesus. I’m going insane—I can feel it. I’ve always enjoyed my job, sure, but I don’t think I’ve ever looked forward to a kill like this. It almost feels like every second that Scarlett remains alive is foreplay, preparing me. Priming me. Giving my creativity room to simmer and grow.

Shame she’s so stunning . I jerk back at the wayward thought, almost slicing myself in the process. I find a sheathe for the knife, trying to control my trembling hands, and attach it to my belt. It doesn’t matter that Scarlett’s gorgeous, because she uses that beauty to be evil .

If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make her scream her apology for killing my brother.