Page 145 of Prey for You

SOUNDTRACK:The Story I’ll Tellby Maverick City Music and Naomi Raine

~ SAM ~

Suddenly, I couldn’t hold onto any of it anymore. I couldn’t fuckingcontainit.

Every unfair moment, every twisted truth, every injustice—and every little thing I’d done wrong all washed over me in a tidal swell of rage I’d been trying to ignore formonths.

I threw the fucking phone, and fuckingbellowedthe rage that swelled in my chest. I swore and cursed and screamed at God becauseHe could have done something to get us through this.

“You say you’re in control,” I panted, pacing my living room, clawing hands through my hair. “You could have changedany one of these thingsand we wouldn’t be here. But here we fucking are! And you want me totrust?You want me togive?You want me to care more about her than I do about myself, while You let it all fall apart? What thefuckam I supposed to do to take care of her from fuckingprison!?”

My neighbors would hear me and think I was back on drugs again, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. I screamed. I swore the darkest curses I knew.

I fell down on the floor in the middle of my living room, hands over my head and roared into my carpet so hard I saw stars and my whole body shook.

Over and over.

All the anger. All the injustice. All the shit I was to blame for. Every last thing—I said it all out loud.

“…Iwantedto take care of her! Iwantedto help—I tried! I kept my dick in my pants and I helped her even when I didn’t want to walk away and we still fucking got here! Why? What was the point? She thinks I’m one of them now! And so do they! How the hell do you get honored in that? And now her fucking father is calling me while she won’t take my calls, what thefuck?!...”

Fear and rage did a tug of war with my heart—one minute I roared about the injustice of it all, the next I’d remember her and how delighted she was when I hunted her and wonder if I was sitting here, dying inside, over a woman who only wanted what I coulddo.

Had she only wanted Cain? Like that fucking doctor said, had shewantedme to manipulate and dominate her because her brain was so messed up it was all she knew? And now that I wouldn’t be able to because I’d be locked up, she was done?

Had she never loved me? Was I just a thrill?

HadIbeen a fool?

Or did she think I’d broken her heart and now she was on that spiral again? Except now I couldn’t catch her in it and save her from herself. Save her from the men who wouldactuallyexploit her vulnerability?

I lost my breath, terror coursing through me,beggingGod to keep her safe from her own stupid, self-loathing choices and from those assholes who’d use her again and then…

For a moment I saw it, and it froze me.

Somewhere, right now, she was alive and breathing and convinced I was a liar. Convinced the one person she’d opened up to had used her. And I knew… She was out there wishing for death. And free to do whatever the fuck she wanted. She wasn’t on trial.

If she hadn’t already, she’d soon be back in the dark web and find some truly homicidal prick who would take her without a hesitation. I’d lose herandmy freedom.

I used to believe you couldn’t be good in this world because nice guys always finished last. Then I met God and learned strength was in being secure, no matter what the other guys did.

But this…

This was so fucking unfair.

I tipped my head up and stared at the ceiling, unseeing, and spewed out every hateful, angry, fearful word. Every single thing that had happened that led us here—I knew where I was wrong. I’d never shied away from that. But so much of this was out of my control. So many players and events I couldn’t affect. I was helpless. A helpless, crying, screaming fucking ball of rage.

Do you care, God? Do you even fucking care?!

And the first thing that popped into my head was Monk.

My brother.

Wiping tears from my face, I patted myself down until I found my legit phone and called Monk… who didn’t answer.

I slumped again, but I hung up and texted him because I needed to talk to someone.

ME: It’s all falling apart. I’m falling apart.

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