Again, I shake my head, and Carter’s smirk this time is far more sinister.
“What? Cat got your tongue?”
Rage fills me to the brim, but I keep my cool; Summer is more important than my fury toward my family. Keeping her safe will always matter far more than anything else.
He continues to slowly circle me, our eyes locked, the tension between us a thick wall of hatred. The chemical scent of the paint thinner grows stronger the closer I allow him, making my head woozy. Although I hope it has the same effect on him, he’s a freak of nature, and nothing but the stopping of his heart will ever deter him.
“You’d give up a life where you could have herandany other woman you want, forthis?” he spits, motioning to the house I was proud to buy. I used to sleep in a tent on the property where I work, but I knew I’d need something nicer for Summer. I spent months fixing this place up and finding furniture so that when she was ready to leave the confines of the basement, she’d at least have something homey surrounding her.
That feels foolish now, though; home is wherever Summer is, because she is the heart and soul of me and every good thing in this world.
And I will protect her.
No matter the cost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SUMMER
The tipof one of the knives Kage strapped to me presses deeply into my thigh, the blade on the verge of splitting my flesh and flooding the hundred year old wooden floors beneath me. Ishouldbe afraid of the unknown, but all I can focus on is the voice of Kage’s vile brother, and with a stifled snort, my shoulders bounce with laughter. It’s so high pitched. Nasally, snobbish, and simply strange. As though rehearsed to sound less threatening than he truly is.
A wolf masquerading as a sheep; a psychopath impersonating a knight.
God, that douchebag really fucked up my head, slamming it on the concrete like that. I’m likely about to die a horrible, painful death, and I’m laughing at the sound of my impending murderer’s voice.
There’s just this primal satisfaction in knowing that—despite Kage’s voice being stolen—I know it’s deeper, smoother, andfarmore beautiful than his brother’s. My mind’s eye tries to fill in what he must look like standing before an imposing Kage; are they similar in height and build? Is their facial structure the same, or does Carter look as foul as the soul that festers in his body?
A thudding sound shakes me from my errant thoughts, followed by the slapping of viscous liquid dripping to the floor. I grin beneath my fingers; I’m hoping the paint thinner burns his skin, maybe even blinds him, but Kage warned me that his brother is more beast than human. It’s going to take more than a few of the traps I laid to bring him down.
I’ve always been a steadfastly optimistic person, doing what was within my reach to make this world a better place, so it makes sense that I don’t really feel an ounce of fear pumping through my veins. Maybe that’s just my psyche protecting me from more trauma, because the way my body has been constantly trembling since Kage’s deft fingers tied all these knives to me is proof that a predator is near.
My stomach churns as my mind scampers to the book he wrote me, to a part that I wasn’t sure was literal—or perhaps, I didn’t want it to be true, didn’t want to acknowledge that level of evil in this already fucked up world. But imagining Carter doing the things to me that Kage said he would beforeliterallydevouring my flesh like a Thanksgiving feast is something I can’t quite wrap my head around.
And now with the understanding that all of those hellish things were Kage’s reality growing up makes so much sense. He hasn’t been free long enough to learn the nuances of this society and culture, and so kidnapping me and keeping me hostage in order to keep me safe made the most sense to him.
The most baffling part of all is how I believe every word he wrote to me; the proof is arguing in the living room just a few yards away.
“You’d give up a life where you could have herandany other woman you want, forthis?”
My metaphorical hackles rise, my molars slipping and gritting as I grind my teeth. This overwhelming, desperate need to defend the man who kidnapped me is strange, but it washesover me and consumes me like a flame to gasoline. Kage was backed into a corner with no other choices, and I will defend him and the goodness that resides in his heart until mine stops beating.
There’s a tense, heavy moment of silence, and then it’s as if a dam breaks loose, all of the pent up rage building between two opposing forces clashing in epic proportions while I’m destined to wither away in anxiety under a fucking bed.I’ve never been brave.The notion swirls in my mind while glass shatters, flesh and bone connect, and furniture is toppled.
I’ve always run from confrontation and pain, but I’ve always peeked at hell between the pages of a book and within the perceived safety of my home. Some twisted part of me has always been fascinated with the darkest corners of the world because I knew I was never in any imminent danger.
A thought jolts my veins, striking it like lightning and forcing my muscles to stiffen.
Life isn’t safe. It never has been and never will be. No matter how hard we as humans toil to delay the inevitable, it comes for us all anyways. Death is the one sure, final thing in this life, and in death there is nothingness.
There is peace.
Pain ends. Suffering ends. Happiness ends.
So why have I always been frozen in fear to enact any real changes, when this is all fleeting?
It isn’t bravado that forces me to pull my way out from under the bed, but it isn’t bravery, either. It’s this knowledge that Kage is out there alone protecting me from a terrible fate, and I have the power to help him. At this point, what is there to lose anymore?
His clothes are baggy on me as I stand, sweatpants pooling around my ankles despite the shoe string belt tied around my waist. The short sleeve shirt is tucked into the waistband, andthere’s still blood crusted to my curls that haven’t been this untamed since childhood. I appear savage and barbaric, and I feel the fierceness in my bones as my toe takes a delicate step forward, causing the knives strapped to my thighs to jostle with the motion.
