Page 35 of Possession

Crowley’s eyes flick to me, which earns him another growl.

O’Neil puts in, “He’s been far easier to manage with the kid.”

Crowley looks thoughtfully through the bars. “You like your toy, Beastie? Will you behave to keep him?”

That’s met with a flare of his nostrils. His predatory gaze never wavers from Crowley. Crowley, safe on the other side of the bars, remains impassive. He wouldn’t, if the fighter were loose. He would be dead. They all would be, everyone here. Everyone except me.

Because I’m his toy? Is that what I am? I don’t like that idea, but I can see it. From the outside.

“He won’t behave,” Briggs argues, “not long term. He’ll get ideas, start thinking he’s something. We should take the kid away, get back to how things were.”

The statement is met with another growl.

“Maybe,” Crowley admits, “but it would cause trouble. I don’t want that right now. He’s just starting to be profitable. He cost me a goddamn fortune.”

Crowley looks thoughtfully through the bars. “Did you know that, Beast? How much I paid for you? My cousin Liam said I was crazy, but you’ve been a real asset to my reputation. Reputation is everything. But a dumb beast wouldn’t know anything about that, I guess.”

“He’ll turn,” Briggs argues. “He’ll snap over the kid. I’m telling you—”

Crowley holds up a hand. Briggs falls silent.

“Here’s how we’ll do it,” Crowley says, sounding pleased with himself. “The Beastie will give me exactly what I want tonight: real bloodshed. Carnage. Throats ripped out. Limbs snapped. I want it all. I want you to show everyone what you really are, just like you showed me in that last fight of yours in the arena. Do you remember stomping that guy’s head into mush? That’s why I spent a fortune on you, and that’s what I want tonight.Realentertainment, the kind that nobody will ever see except at Oscar Crowley’s venue.”

Jesus Christ—

“You give me that, Beast, and you can come back here to your cozy little nest with your pretty little toy. And if you break him when you return, that’s on you.”

ELEVEN

Lucas

I scramble up from the bed when the steel door, well beyond my line of sight at the end of the long corridor, scrapes open. Boots thump along the concrete. I can’t hear his bare feet. I can’t be sure he’s coming back, that he’s survived, until—

Harsh light glares over his blood-splattered body and face. Blood coats his chin and runs down his throat to the shock collar. It’s splashed across his chest. His hands are red. His black tactical pants hide any stains, but his feet are splattered too.

Maybe I’m supposed to be horrified, but I’m not. I’m so fucking relieved to see him. Because no matter how strong and tough he is, these fights are dangerous, and he was already hurt.

The stitches in his side were bandaged and taped, but he was targeted there. There’s a bloody fist print across the white tape.

His eyes are unfocused as he walks to the cell gate flanked by two guards with guns in hand. One of them carries the shock collar remote as well.

He stands aside as one of the guards opens the gate. He walks in. The gate clangs shut behind him.

“Collar,” the guard orders, but the fighter just stands there with his back to them.

The collar is demanded again, but there’s still no response to the order. The two guards eye him warily. Then they eye me where I’m standing beside the mattress in my jeans and hoodie. They leave, vanishing into the guardroom.

A dark, predatory gaze swings my way.

If you break him when you return, that’s on you.

But he’s not going to. I don’t care how he’s looking at me. He’s not going to hurt me. I’m sure of that. But I don’t think he’s sure, and I think that’s why he turns his back to me and goes stalking away. To me, though, that only proves it.

I follow him as he stalks toward the bathroom wall. I’m right in his path when he turns.

He roars in my face. It’s animalist. Bestial. It has the hair rising all over my body. It has my heart racing even before he grabs me.

He spins, slamming me into the wall. He grabs my throat and squeezes. I don’t try to fight him and I don’t try to gentle him. Right now, what he needs is for me to accept him exactly like he is. Because this part of him is real. It’s deep. And I’m not afraid of it. I’m not horrified by it.

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