Page 62 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)

His eyes land on his empty tea mug. Widen. He reaches forward to pick it up, only to fall back to the couch with a low groan.

Finally, comprehension dawns on him, and he swivels his head to face me.

His eyes are wide, filled with shock, betrayal, and pain.

The pain almost gets to me— almost . “Flower,” he mutters.

I’m sure he means to yell the word, but he’s too weak.

“Scarlett—” he pauses to cough, “—what the fuck have you done?”

I push the mugs aside and take a seat on the coffee table in front of him, drawing the pouch out of my pocket. I open it and withdraw a syringe and the Digibind .

“Do you remember what I told you, when you first brought me to this apartment?” I ask, not looking at him. Looking at him might break the coldness protecting me like a shield. Looking at him would force me to confront what he’s turned me into, or perhaps what I was always meant to become.

A ragged wheeze escapes his chest. “Don’t,” he says. “Scar—Flower— don’t .”

“I told you either you had to kill me, or I would kill you. Of all the terrible things I am, and the terrible person I’m transforming into, I will always remain a woman of my word.

” I press the needle into the vial of the antidote and withdraw the precise amount of liquid required to save Monster’s life, to counteract the fatal dose of oleander.

I flick the needle and press the plunger by a millimeter, expelling the air bubbles.

“Scarlett,” he tries again. “Scarlett, we could be happy—”

“You broke me,” I hiss, anger flaring. “You broke me into a million pieces, and they didn’t heal properly.

This is what I am now, who I am now. Shut up and don’t waste the oxygen you have—breathing’s going to become nearly impossible shortly.

That should give you ample opportunity to listen.

” I place the syringe on my lap and force myself to look at him.

My emotions constrict as I see the terror, the betrayal on his face.

My rage ebbs and guilt blooms, but I force myself to ignore it.

“I am leaving this place today,” I say. “You can agree to let me go and forget about me. Or, you can reiterate your stupid promises to always come for me, and I will let that poison kill you. The tea you drank was infused with enough oleander to kill an elephant. Those pretty pink flowers you got me? They’re extremely toxic.

” I lean forward. “And very deadly. I think you forgot who I am, Greyson. Who I was before you. I was top of my class in botanical studies, and poisonous plants were one of the first things I learned .” My last words are a growl.

Monster wanted to erase who I was and replace it with him, and he failed— miserably.

He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s too weak. Too out of breath to conjure words. I don’t know what frightens me more; what I’ve done, or the satisfaction I feel seeing him reduced to a helpless shell, which is precisely what he turned me into.

“If you choose option A, I will administer the antidote. You will have a very long night. Vomiting, arrhythmia, the works… but you’ll survive. You’ll have a long few weeks ahead of you, but eventually, you’ll recover. If you choose option B, I will leave you to die.”

“Flower.” He finds the strength to speak, even though every word is rugged and weak. “Don’t… don’t let me… turn you into this.” He coughs, and his face twists with pain. “Don’t become a killer… for me. You’re good , don’t let me turn you… evil .”

The guilt returns again, as does the doubt, warring with my anger and need to escape. The conflicting emotions tear me apart internally, pulling me in endless directions, making me feel like I’m splitting at the seams.

I know I’m giving Monster the power I never wanted to give to anyone. The power to make me tap into the cruelty that lives in my blood and stains my soul. I’ve always called him Monster, and while he is… he’s also Doctor Frankenstein.

He’s remade me into the true monster.

“Say you’ll let me go or die,” I reply. My bottom lip starts to wobble as I stare at him. The coldness is dissipating, and the shield it presented is fading into nothing.

I stare at Monster, and suddenly, he morphs into something else entirely. His features disappear like a cold mist at daybreak, and in his place, I see someone else .

I see my mother. Murmuring to me that she loves me, that she’ll always watch over me…

Moments before my father wraps his hands around her neck and chokes her to death.

I blink twice and the image disappears, but it remains in my mind. It haunts me, seeps through the fractured cracks of my being. The message my mind sends me is clear; escape, or live like my mother did. Die the way she did.

“Let me go,” I whisper shakily. I can’t stay here. “Let me go, Monster. Please.”

His features harden. He tries to lean forward again.

Fails. Helpless anger suffuses his expression.

“You’ll have to leave me… to die.” His breathing is laborious now, and oxygen is failing him.

His face is turning red. I know he’ll be paralyzed with pain soon. “Because I will... never … let you go.”

His eyes flutter, then roll back into his head. Silence fills the room, an eerie stillness broken up only by the sounds of his shallow, uneven breaths, and the racing of my thoughts.

I love you, Flower . He said it to me with such sincerity, such affection. I know he believes he loves me, and that… that is what gives me pause.

My mother loved my father despite all the abuse he inflicted on her, on her children. She had a broken, fragile attachment to him. A reverence for him.

And he killed her in front of me, to teach me a lesson.

Maybe I’d be willing to lower myself to Father’s methods for someone who I hated, who hated me, but to kill someone who thinks they love me in cold blood…

I thought I could do it. I really thought I could fucking do it, but I can’t .

I shake my head. Curse the childish girl that I’m about to act as, the fool who only knows how to shoot herself in the foot.

Then, I reach forward and give Monster the life-saving injection, knowing that it means I’ll live in eternal horror of him coming for me… but also knowing that at least I’ll be able to live with myself.

I’ll run far away. So far he won’t be able to find me, no matter how hard he searches.

And I’ll never look back.

I drop the syringe on the coffee table and rush into the bedroom. Monster keeps his car keys in a small box in his bedside drawer. He used to keep them in his office, but he’s grown more lax as I’ve built his trust.

Trust I just betrayed in the cruelest way possible.

No, I can’t think like that. I did what I had to. He’ll live, and by the time he’s in shape to come for me, I’ll be long gone.

I swipe the keys from their place in the box and dart back into the living room.

I let myself take one last look at Monster before typing the code into the door.

Let myself drink in the last time I’ll ever see him, and hope he hates me enough to forget about me, even as a small voice in my head cautions me that he’ll never let me go.

And then I leave. I jog to the elevator at a brisk pace.

Despite the fact that I saved him, the guilt returns like a fucking tsunami, nearly suffocating.

A single tear drips down my cheek, then another.

I don’t know what’s making me cry right now—hurting the Monster who hurt me?

The prospect of getting away from this place once and for all?

Or something else… perhaps the fact that a tiny, twisted part of me might not want to go.

I shove that part into a box. Shoot it in the heart, lock it in its death chamber, and throw away the key .

The elevator arrives empty, thank God. I press the button for the garage at least a dozen times in a row, so damn impatient to get away from this place, once and for all.

It feels like the descent takes an eternity. I can almost taste freedom on my tongue.

Then, the elevator comes to a stop. The doors slide open.

I rush out of them, running my gaze over the parking lot, where a dozen cars are parked against cement walls.

Before I can press the key fob to find the car belonging to Monster, a pair of cold, cruel hands grab me by the collar, and slam me against the cement wall.

Stars burst behind my eyes, and the concept of freedom vanishes beneath a tide of unimaginable terror as I stare at the man who accosted me. The harbinger of my death.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cain growls.