Page 89 of Beg the Night

Fine. He wanted to talk? I would talk. He wanted to know how sick and twisted my life had been?

I might as well grant his wish.

I swallowed the liquid in a few gulps. “You should really get a drink,” I said. “After what we went through, you deserve it.”

Sinner scoffed. “I don’t drink.”

“Really?” I arched a brow. “That’s surprising.”

“Why do you say that?”

I shrugged. “Big, tough guy who wants everyone to be afraid of him. I don’t know. You seem like the type.”

He lowered a forearm to the small table and angled closer, the intensity of his attention searing into me. “You don’t know shit about me. You have no idea what my life was like before you met me. I’m not the guy you think I am.”

I nearly choked on my drink. “Trust me, I know more than you think.”

He stilled. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Tension thickened in the air. He knew exactly what I was talking about. He had seen pieces of my life just as I had seen pieces of his.

“You know what I mean. I saw things.”

“What. Things.”

I’d never known Sinner to be a laid-back guy, but this version of him was slightly unnerving. He nearly buzzed with anticipation, but something else, too. Fear, maybe?

Hell. After what I’d seen, I didn’t blame him.

“Tell me. Now.”

I inhaled, then forced all my nerves away with a long exhale.He has no reason to be mad at you, Athena. It wasn’t your fault you were forced to swap life-altering memories with him during the claiming.

“I saw you and Margaret. She was younger. Cute.” I smiled, unable to fight the way my heart tugged at the memory of my friend. “She’s still cute, don’t get me wrong, but she looked softer.” I shrugged. “I saw you. You were younger, too. Not nearly as strong yet. You were tied to a chair with your arms tethered behind your back.”

Darkness flashed in his eyes. He knew exactly what memory I was talking about.

“And your father was there.”

I breathed deeply again, waited for him to speak. To confirm that he knew what I meant. Anything. Instead, he stared at me, his face an emotionless mask.

“He—” I snapped my mouth shut. Sharing this information didn’t feel right, even if it was a real memory for Sinner.

The details were too personal. To speak of them felt too violating.

The Sinner who’d been tortured and bullied by his own father was not the Sinner sitting in front of me now, yet somehow, he was.

Those were the experiences that molded us into these cold, heartless creatures, weren’t they? The hell we endured shaped us into the people we’d become.

Life had turned us into warriors. And how cruel that was, to leave so many others untouched.

Not like I was a warrior myself. I was nothing. Nobody. I hadn’t endured the things that Sinner had. What I had seen…

“He what?” Sinner pushed.

I dropped my focus to the table between us, unable to hold his angry gaze. “He tortured you. Whips. Knives. Weapons I’ve never even seen. Your shadows were everywhere, but he wanted more. He wanted you to be more.”

A wicked smile grew on his face. “He wanted me to be a killer.”

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