Page 159 of Scars Run Deep

He’d always underestimated me.

I was Asher fucking Monroe.

I didn’t run.

I didn’t cower.

And I didn’t start something only to not finish it.

The dollhouse network was ending tonight. He was ending tonight.

Even if I had to take a fall to make it happen.

It was worth that and more.

It was worth every fucking thing.

As I made my way over to him, all the rest faded into the background. The sickening scene playing out, the fact that I was walking toward the Devil alone and unarmed—unarmed because weapons had been confiscated from all guests at the entrance doors.

Everything about him became heightened in vile detail.

The tic of his cleanly shaven jaw.

The twitch of his lips before they formed into a twisted smile.

The tenseness of his posture as he readied himself for what was to come.

The clenching of his fists over and over, a sign with him that his bloodlust had breached the surface.

The moment I was within reach, he snagged my arm and jerked me hard against him. A snarl escaped him as he dragged me away from prying eyes—witnesses—and down the barely-lit concrete corridor.

We reached the second door on the right, two fuckers clad in the familiar black hooded robes stationed either side of it, their heads bowing automatically as he reached it.

Carson opened the door and ushered me inside, growling at my ear, “You took from me, I take from you.”

I came to a jolting stop as I caught sight of Aurora.

Fuck me.

She was bound to a metal chair, a spider gag stretching her mouth open abnormally. Her white-blonde hair was matted and caked in blood and dirt. And he’d fucking well stripped her down to her black lace bra and panties.

Her beautiful blue eyes were bloodshot and glazed.

He’d fucking well drugged her.

As Carson shoved me into the room, her gaze was unfocused, but I saw her register me, the recognition there.

“Have you touched her?” I ground out.

“Of course not, son,” he answered in a deceptively calm and pleasant tone. “Well, not beyond the standard manhandling required to transport her here. I’m saving the show for you.”

Knowing all too well what he meant, a shudder rolled through me.

He took advantage of my shock of her being here and in this state and made a move before I could react in my compromised state, stabbing something into my throat.

He shoved me forward again and I staggered, slapping my hand to my neck and finding a syringe there.

I ripped it out and spun around to see him glaring.

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