Page 97 of Monsters Carve Thrones
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow we try.
Olesya and I had gone over it a dozen times. We knew the risk. But if the plan failed, if it fell apart in the middle of execution, I wouldn’t live to see another. And honestly? I didn’t want to.
This couldn’t be my life.
I pulled the sheet over myself a little tighter, pretending like it could protect me. From him. From what was coming. The water stopped, and my stomach twisted.
Moments later, he walked out, towel slung low on his hips, steam curling from his skin. His eyes locked onto me instantly like I was some toy he couldn’t wait to unbox again. “Still awake?” he asked, rubbing his hair dry with a smaller towel.
“Barely,” I lied, curling slightly, trying to make myself smaller without looking afraid.
His eyes dragged over my body like they had every night since he took me.
I forced my voice to sound casual. “You mentioned you have meetings tomorrow. Am I expected to go?”
He snorted, tossing the towel aside. “You? No, sweetheart. You’ll stay locked up right here so I can come in after and let off some steam.”
Of course.
I nodded slowly, eyes on the far wall.
“Speaking of,” he muttered, letting the towel drop completely.
My heart stuttered.
He climbed into bed, slipping beneath the sheets, and I felt the mattress dip beneath his weight. The cuff tugged at my wrist as I tensed. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder, then my neck. His fingers trailed down my side slowly. Within another moment, my tank had been pulled down.
“You’re so quiet tonight,” he murmured.
I offered a soft smile. “Just tired.”
He kissed me again, on the mouth this time. I kissed him back because I had to. Because resistance would only make it worse. But inside… I was gone.
Somewhere else entirely.Somewhere with Rafe.
I imagined his hands instead. His mouth. The way he used to whisper my name like it meant salvation. His laugh. His warmth. The way he held me like I was breakable and indestructible at once.
If I could just hold onto that… I could survive thisone more time.
Waylon wasn’t as rough tonight. Maybe he was worn out. Maybe he thought I’d finally accepted this miserable existence. Either way, I endured it in silence, my body still but my mind a world away. I stared at the ceiling again, jaw locked, breath shallow when he removed my athletic shorts. His fingers dug into my hips as he settled between my legs.
And as his weight pressed into me over and over, his voice rasping vulgar words into my ear, I made a promise to myself. Even if tomorrow didn’t work, even if Olesya couldn’t get to me, even if I never saw Rafe again... I wouldnotlive like this.
I’d rather die. And onmyterms.
***
I woke up to the dull sound of fingers tapping against a screen. Waylon sat at the edge of the bed, bare back hunched slightly as he texted someone with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Morning light filtered in through the heavy curtains, pouring faint shadows across the sheets. My wrist ached from the cuff.
“Got a meeting,” he muttered, not bothering to look back at me. “Shouldn’t take long. One of the guards’ll bring your lunch later.”
I nodded silently as he stood and started getting dressed. Dark slacks. A crisp white shirt. He moved with the lazyconfidence of someone who thought they couldn’t be touched. A king in a rotting kingdom. I watched him quietly, imprinting every movement in case it was one of the last times I ever saw him alive.
Please let today be the last time.
He glanced over his shoulder once, his eyes sweeping over me in that annoying way. “Be good,” he said, then slipped out the door. The second it clicked shut, I let out a shaky breath.
