Page 19 of The Devils of Saint City

In the morning, I stretch and tuck my tangled hair behind my ear before even opening my eyes. My fingers brush the collar around my neck, bringing last night’s events back to me — but it’s the complete lack of a bedroom door that really shocks me when I finally get up.

Those fucking bastards couldn’t handle the thought of me not coming through that door, so they stole it altogether. I can’t lock something that doesn’t exist.

I have to hand it to them, they’re dedicated to their craft. A little too dedicated. I can hear them mumbling to each other in the kitchen, probably deciding which freedom of mine to take away next, and it makes me want to grab one of those hidden guns and beat them to death with it.

A bullet would be too quick.

“Rhea?” Manson calls. “You awake in there?”

Fuck him. Fuck them both.

Instead of answering, I tiptoe across the creaky floorboards as quietly as I can and climb back into bed. Clearly, I’m half decent at pretending to be asleep when I’m not, and I’m not ready to deal with them yet.

Unfortunately, they’re ready to deal with me.

The shock that radiates from the collar all the way down my body makes my limbs jerk and my heart stop for a moment. The startled cry I let out tells them both I’m wide awake, but they don’t wait for me to come to them.

When they crowd into my room I stare up at Asher’s smirk and Manson’s frown as I try to catch my breath. “Morning,” Ash starts. “How’d our slutty little pet sleep last night?”

Green eyes rake my body slowly, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth in a way that makes me want to kick them right out of his mouth. “I slept fine. I’ll just take the collar off too, you know. We can keep doing this forever.”

Yet when I try to find the latch, my fingers brush along a slick surface instead. “Yeah, good luck with that. Forever sounds great to me.”

Manson looks between us curiously before joining in the conversation. “There’s a lock code,” he admits. “One that only we know.”

If there’s a code, it can be cracked. And if I can’t crack it, I’ll cut the damn thing off with scissors, a saw, whatever I can get my hands on. They seriously underestimate how far I’ll go to fuck them over. “Mmhm. Okay.”

Ash plops down next to me on the bed looking like he’s won. “Every wrong entry will shock you and send a message to our phones. We’d know the second you tried, pet. I don’t think you want to know what that punishment will be.”

“How can it be worse than whatever it is you’re going to do to me anyway?” I say quietly. “I’ll never stop fighting this.”

As if he’s enjoying this, he glances over at Manson so he can answer for him and he looks disappointed when he doesn’t. “Why? You don’t have to fight this.”

“Just tell her about the handcuffs. This argument is pointless.”

Blinking, I look to Manson, hoping he’ll the more reasonable one. “Excuse me?”

“He’s pushing your buttons because he can,” Manson hisses. “Are you really surprised he got handcuffs?”

“They have a chain. You’d be able to move around still, I’m not a monster.”

But he is. They both are.

Every new revelation only confirms it. Asher won’t stop until I’m completely unable to do anything but breathe and serve him. Forever, he said. “Yeah, that’ll make me love you,” I deadpan. “Chain me up, shock me, do whatever you want. But I’m not serving you anymore. Kill me if it bothers you.”

Groaning, Asher shakes his head at me with a disappointed expression. “Why would we ever kill you? Death is permanent absence, and we want to keep you locked up here with us. Do those things add up to you?”

“None of this adds up because you two are complete morons. I had nowhere to go, dumbass. I needed you. If you guys wantedme, all it would’ve taken was a little bit of kindness and I’d have fallen all over myself trying to please you. But you chose violence and hatred, so guess what? That’s what you’ll get.”

Standing, I make it three steps toward the empty doorway before my new collar brings me to my knees. What they did the first time was child’s play, like a test setting. It was nothing compared to the strength of the shock this time.

“Fuck,” Manson whispers. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“You heard her,” Ash argues. “It’s too late, and as much as you want to play nice guy here, I saw the way that pained noise she released just now got you hard. She’ll never understand what we need until we force her to see it.”

I glance back at them to see them sharing a dark look I don’t understand, but I don’t think I have to.

They want it to be this way. They want me to hurt, to bleed, to cry. Even Manson, the sweet boy who used to sing me to sleep. They don’t want love, or tenderness, or passion. They already have that with each other. I’m just the toy they stole to torture.

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