Page 52 of Monsters Like Us
Silence slams down like a lid. Blood dots the concrete, dark and obscene.
“Micah,” Katana whispers.
I rush to her and wrap my arms around her. She clings to me, trembling. When she whispers my name—small, and raw, the sound like a choir. “Micah… you saved me.”
I pull back slightly. “I’ll always save you.”
She cups my face, her voice shaking. “I love you, Micah.”
The words land like a shock. I let her see the darkness behind my eyes. Let her see the monster within. “I love you. I’m never letting you go.”
She grins, small and fierce. “You better not.”
I help her up to a sitting position. She’s trembling, still weak from what she endured. I find a glass that somehow survived the chaos and press it to her lips. She drinks. The world outside the room feels both farther away and impossibly close.
For a long, breathless second, it’s just us—two wrecked monsters holding each other in the stunned quiet after the thunder.
She swings her legs over the side of the table, and I help her stand. She takes a few steps, then bends, grabbing the scalpel. I watch with interest as she bends down, slices Corinne’s throat, then does the same to Vale’s.
Her eyes glimmer with something monstrous when they meet mine. “You’re not the only monster in the room.” She rises, still holding the scalpel. “I needed to make sure they’re dead.” Her chin lifts slightly, eyes burning with a possessiveness that makes everything come to life—including my cock.
“I take care of what’smine.”
My feet eat the distance between us, my hands cupping her face. “We belong to each other. Forever.”
She smiles. “Forever.”
We gather the phones, the wallets, and Corinne’s keys. In Vale’s pocket, I find a set of car keys.
I scoop Katana into my arms and carry her up the stairs. She protests once, weakly, before relaxing against me, her head resting against my chest.
We are dirty, thorned, and lethal as we leave the basement. The air shifts—less rot, more oxygen—but still heavy with ghosts.
I set her on a chair, pausing long enough to fill a bag with bottled water, fruit, meat, and bread—survival in its simplest form.
When I turn back to Katana, she stands, one hand gripping my arm. “I can walk,” she whispers. “I just… need to walk out of here.”
I nod. She needs to prove—to herself more than anyone—that they didn’t break her. As if they could. My little murderess is a monster like me.
Even wrecked, she looks like a queen walking off a battlefield.
Outside, a black van waits in the driveway—rear compartment sealed and windowless, reeking of oil and burned metal. Vale’s machine on wheels. Now our escape.
Katana’s fingers slip into mine as we step into the fading daylight. Two ruined creatures walking out of a house that tried to kill us.
The light stings, raw and strange, but it’s freedom all the same.
I’ll make us disappear, and the world will have to wonder what happened inside the gothic house.
Let them whisper their stories. Let them guess what happened. None of it matters. We know the truth.
Hand in hand, we walk toward the van.
And we don’t look back.
CHAPTER 46
Katana
