Page 4 of Fierce Monarch

For a while, he taught me to swim. To hold my breath. He held me up and let me float along the surface, smiling and laughing at his silly face. I had no warning when everything changed. I had no clue what flipped the switch, but he went from holding me above the water to holding me under it. I remembered clawing at his arm, desperately trying to get up, to find air. Crying under water for my mom. The terror when I swallowed. The absolute certainty that I was going to die.

Then he stopped.

Decades later, I still didn’t know why he’d come for me or why he’d let me live. Only that he did.

That was the day my debt began.

Walking back into his compound after months away was eye-opening. It was no Marcosa mansion, that was for sure. The walls were solid, but the floor was scratched up, the couches old and destroyed. There was an air of desperation to the space that the mansion never had. Not to mention, there was booze in every hand, drugs on every flat surface, and women on every lap.

So many women.

A hand clamped down on my shoulder, squeezing just tight enough to hurt. That alone told me who it was. “Welcome back, little brother.”

I grunted my hello and jerked my head toward the room. “What’s with the party?”

Cash snatched my bag off my shoulder and tossed it at an Ace with a gruff command to take it to my room. I latched on to it, hauling it over my shoulder, and waved him away. “Don’t want anyone in my room.”

“Right, forgot about your little need for privacy.” My brother sneered, like the idea of a locked door was disgusting. Maybe for him, it was.

I held the bag firmly against my side, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, forcing me into the room as if he knew that if I had a choice, I’d run. “It’s a celebration. A welcome home for the prodigal brother. See anything you like?”

This was part and parcel for Cash. Throw women in my lap as if he didn’t know I hated his guts, hoping it would make me more amenable, when we both knew I was only here because I had nowhere else to go. Luckily for him, I’d learned early that going with the flow made him more tolerable, and I wasn’t looking to make my situation worse.

Rolling my eyes, I looked over the crowd, realizing something interesting. All the women looked the same. Blonde hair, blue eyes, thin and wispy enough for their clothes to fall off their bodies. All lightness when I wanted dark hair and dark eyes to suck me in and never let me go.

Had he intentionally picked someone the opposite of Mari as a kindness or because he wanted to make me suffer? Since I was fairly confident he didn’t believe love was real, I was pretty sure it was his version of the former.

I was about to make a joke about Cash having a type, as he expected, when I saw him. The man sat on the back couch like a king, surrounded by women—though he didn’t touch any of them—with a beer in his hand, which he tipped my way.

The Marcosa spy.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t nod or wink or grin. I just glared. Because Mari deserved better than him. His lips ticked up, thoroughly entertained by my irritation.

My brother saw where I was looking and grinned. “I didn’t realize he was here already. Come on, let’s get a drink.”

Another hold on my shoulder, another reminder that no matter what happened, I wasn’t free. I would never be free. I’d signed my life over to the devil at five, and I owed him until I was ready to shut my eyes for good.

Cash shoved a bottle in my hand, snatched a girl around the waist, and dragged the three of us through the crowd, which parted like he was fucking Moses. Because he needed that ego boost.

“Nate, Cash. Good to see you again.” Marcosa gave us that good ol’ boy smile that set my teeth on edge. “I see you’ve returned home and caused quite a stir in the process.”

I barely swallowed the urge to tell him home was not here, covering my silence with a pull of beer. How could a place I couldn’t rest my head safely ever be a home? No, my home was with soft sheets, soft skin, and brown hair on my pillow. My home was something I would never see again.

The urge to ask about her soured the beer in my stomach.

Cash’s arm squeezed tight around my neck, and as always, I wondered if he was wishing he’d finished the job he started so many years ago. “Of course he did. Nate is excellent at his job. No one compares to my brother.”

He said it like he cared about my feelings, like he would do anything to have my back. Like I was special. I had never been special. I was a tool, something to torment my mother and a weapon to make his army fear him. That was all I was and all I would ever be.

Marcosa’s lips tipped again, still hiding that self-indulgent smile. “You must be excited to have your pick of women tonight. No more sharing for you.”

He and Cash laughed loudly as I recited “fuck you” in every language I’d ever heard in my head.

I wanted to tell them how much I wanted to share, how beautiful Mari looked falling apart between the three of us and that I would rather be celibate for the rest of my life than touch another woman who wasn’t her. But I couldn’t do that, just like I couldn’t do anything else. Doing so would make her wish she were dead, because Cash didn’t like me. If he found something I enjoyed, he broke it, and Mari was not going to be another of his broken little dolls. I wouldn’t allow it.

The reminder of what was at stake pushed me to act, and I pasted on a grin so similar to Dominic’s playboy act we could have been twins, making a big show of looking around. “It has been a minute. I think I’ll go do that now, if you don’t need me for anything.”

I looked at my brother, who tipped his beer, clinking our bottles together. “Nah, you’re good. Enjoy tonight, little bro. We’ve got work to do tomorrow. The little queen may have fallen, but we need to make sure she stays down.”

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