Page 106 of Choices

It’s eerie to think of everyone out there partying and having fun. Kids are playing innocently while a man is tied to a metal table in what I’m surmising is a torture chamber.

Muted sounds come from the man once more. “I can’t help you.” I shake my head, and he says something else unintelligible. “What are you saying?” I snap, exasperated.

Leaning over him, I rip the tape holding the cloth in his mouth away. “I’ll stuff it back in if you scream,” I warn.

“Thank you.” He says it so relaxed, you’d think I just opened a door for him or offered escape.

“Who are you?” He’s wearing beige slacks and a checkered shirt. He carries extra weight around his middle, but has broad, muscular upper arms.

Stretching his lips, he replies, “Trevor.” His eyes narrow. “Who are you?”

I don’t know anymore.“Does it matter?” I suddenly wish I wasn’t dressed in a bikini top and shorts. The walls speak here. The darkness clings to the air, seeping into my skin.

“It could matter.”

“How did you end up here?” I ask, looking around the cold, barren space. Tools sit on a shelf above a cabinet at the back of the room. Acid bubbles in my gut.

“Some man with a big beard hit me over the head and I woke up here.” His words are matter of fact.

“You must have done something.”

“Are you going to kill me?” He looks me over with curiosity. How is he not begging for his life, screaming for help? Crying? Pissing himself? I’d have no air in my lungs from screaming if it were me on the table.

“No.”Could I kill him?It depends on what he’s done.

“Is the bearded man going to kill me?”

Unease swims through my veins. “Probably.” He doesn’t say anything to my confession, just attempts to nod. “Are you not scared?” I ask, confused by him.

“Some of us are hunters. Others prey. Someone has to end up on the table,” he says, exploring my face for a response. “Which are you?” he adds.

I always thought I was a hunter, but now, feeling defeated, weak, and once again fucked over by the man I love, I wonder if I’ve always been the prey—Cutter’s bounty that he taunts before killing.

“Untie me,” he suddenly demands, opening a pit in my stomach.

“No.” I say firmly, shifting on my feet.

“You’re trembling.” He drops his eyes to my hands. Flexing my fingers, I reach over and stick the tape back over his mouth.My heart races wildly. Even with the tape and cloth over his mouth, he’s smiling at me.

He’s a hunter. My brain screams.Trying to prey on you.

“I may tremble on the surface, but there’s strength inside me that goes beyond fear. I’ve been broken and had to reassemble myself over and over. I’m resilient. I’m stone.” Leaning over him, I add, “And I’m not the one on the table.”

All heat leaves my body when he manages to grip my wrist in his hand, preventing me from moving. “Let go,” I spit through clenched teeth, yanking my arm. His grip is supernaturally strong, even restrained. Choked laughter rattles his chest as I attempt to peel his finger away from my flesh with my other hand. “Let me fucking go.” A scream rips from my lungs when Monster appears beside me. A steel blade whips past my eyes, plunging into Trevor’s forearm, and twists.

I fall back hard on my ass when the grip releases, landing directly on the drain hole.

Horror washes over me. Scurrying away on my hands, I don’t stop until my back hits the cold wall.

“Kit?”

My breathing comes in ragged pants, and I try to bring focus to my mind. That wasn’t Monster’s voice…

Dragging my gaze up tanned legs and over the floral dress to the knife clenched in Rogue’s hand, I choke out, “What the fuck is going on?”

“You weren’t supposed to be in here. No one is,” Monster grunts, shaking his head and tutting.

“Who is that man? And how the hell are you Rambo right now?

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