Page 87 of Monsters Carve Thrones
My wife.
She was on Waylon’s bed, barely covered in pale sheets. I could tell that she was naked. Her hands were trembling as she tried to cover herself, her face blotchy and wet with tears. And he was lounging behind her, lips against her shoulder, his hand roaming under the blanket like he owned her. Like she wasn’teverythingto the fucking demon sitting here in this cell.
I surged forward with a snarl, chains snapping hard. My wrists split open again, blood trickling down the cuffs. I didn’t care. I didn’t even feel it.
I needed to kill her. Him. Everyone.
I wanted to rip this whole fucking house apart with my bare hands and make her choke on her own cruelty. “Turn it off,” I growled. My voice cracked like dry stone. “Turn it thefuck off.”
But she didn’t. She just watched me as her manicured nail swiped forward. The screen flickered, and Waylon now had her beneath him. They were covered with a red comforter, but I knew what he was doing to her. Waleria’s smile widened as Adela’s muffled sobs played through the speakers. My entire body locked up–rage, pain, grief, all at once. My chest burned like fire had eaten through my lungs.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” she whispered. “Even more so when she’s being a good little slave.”
My throat collapsed on itself.
Laura gasped from the wall beside me. She couldn’t see the screen, but she knew. She fucking knew. Her sob broke the silence like glass shattering. Nico’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white. Kieran stared at the floor, jaw locked, like if he looked up, he might lose it, too.
I couldn’t stop the scream that tore out of me. A raw, primal sound. A war cry and a death sentence and a soul shattering in one. “I’m going tofucking kill you!” I spat. “You hear me, you sick bitch? I’m going to gut you slowly. I’ll film it and send the video to him.” My voice was shaking, my breathing hysterical.
She tilted her head, studying me like I was a wounded dog snapping at the hand that beat me. “But that’s just it, Rafe. You won’t. You’ll sit here in your chains, rotting, until Waylon finishes ruining her. And when he’s done, and there’s nothing left of her worth saving–maybewe’ll let you die.”
She stood, the tablet still playing on the ground, and turned her back like I wasn’t losing my mind watching the woman I loved being violated. Adela’s cries ripped open my fucking veins and scorched my blood.
“You won’t win,” I said, quieter now. It was raw and stripped bare. “You’ve made sure of that. Because I won’t stop. Not until I’ve torn every single one of you off this earth. There couldneverbe enough blood to satisfy me.”
At the door, she looked back with a smirk. “I hope you live long enough to see her final video.”
Waleria knelt, placing the tablet out of reach. And then she left, slamming the door behind her. And Ibroke.
I dropped my head, shaking, blood slipping from my wrists like ink bleeding into water. I couldn’t scream anymore.Couldn’t breathe. My chest felt hollow and fire-charred. My very bones felt like they were being broken all at once.
Laura was crying silently, fists to her mouth. Nico had turned away. Kieran punched the wall until his hand bled.
I desperately wanted the video to end. I couldn't reach the tablet that still played. All I could hear was her. And him. And my heart burst open.
“God dammit,” Laura sobbed. “No, no, no.”
“Rafe,” Kieran growled, desperate to pull me from my spiral.
My world tilted, spun, and broke apart. The pain was so fucking brutal that I knew the only way for it to stop was to bash my head into the wall.
“Rafe! Come back to us, man,” Kieran barked louder, his voice commanding.
My gaze snapped up to his brown eyes, widening with concern. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He knew that whatever humanity was left within me was dead. And the only person who could bring it back was her.
***
ADELA
Every day that passed etched itself into my bones like tally marks on a prison wall. And there were a lot of them now. Days bled into nights, nights into days. Shit–weeks blurred, dragging behind me like chains I couldn’t break. I had no idea how long I’d been in this hell now. I’d say at least two months.
Sometimes I forgot who I was.
Like the life I’d been stolen from wasn’t real at all. Just a dream I couldn’t quite grasp anymore. I tried to hold onto it with chipped nails and trembling fingers, clinging to it like a lifeline. Rafe’s face. Laura’s laugh. The way the sunlight fellthrough the kitchen windows of our townhouse in the early mornings. The silky feel of our sheets tangled around my legs. The quiet joy of curling into my reading chair with a book and a glass of wine.
I missed the sound of running water in our shower. The smell of jasmine and roses from the backyard when the breeze swept through. I missed the woman I was before this. The one who felt safe.
And yet… I was still here.Surviving.
