Page 59 of Ruthless Keeper
I force my knees to bend, lowering myself into this cursed chair. Memories flash through my mind—the stabbing that happened right here. The waterboarding. The constant feeling of impending doom.The surety that my only purpose in life had been reduced to suffering and dying an early death.
The agony that transcended any physical sensation and morphed into something profoundly, deeply emotional.
“Flower,” Monster says quietly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’m a different man, and you’re a different woman.”
He’s right. Monster—Greyson—went from the man who ignored my pleas of innocence to the man who will sacrifice himself for me, even when my life isn’t at stake. Who’s willing to die for my wellbeing…
Footsteps precede Cain’s return. My stomach churns at the items he’s holding—a horrific whip that looks like it hasspikesbuilt into the long, braided leather tassel… and a knife. A somewhatfamiliarknife.
Dear God, is that—
I don’t get to finish the thought before Cainstabs the knife into Greyson’s thigh. A scream escapes my lips, and I lunge forward as Greyson falls to the ground, but Cain moves faster, pressing the blade—wet with Monster’s blood—against my neck. He shoves me back into my seat, and I release a cry muffled by my trembling hand.
“You don’t move from this place,” Cain says flatly. “You did this, Scarlett. You decided that talking back to me was the best course of action, and here’s where it’s gotten you.” He glares at me. “If you move, I will forgetanypromise I made to Greyson. Do you understand me?”
As Monster releases a low, muffled groan of pain, I whimper,achingto go to him.
“Do you understand me?”Cain repeats.
A tear falls down my cheek as I force myself to nod.
“Stay right the fuck there.”
Cain kneels on the floor beside Monster, and uses his bloodied knife to cut open Monster’s shirt from the back, revealing afinely-toned, well-muscled back. My breath shudders as I inhale and exhale, dreading what comes next.
Cain stands to his full height and cracks the whip against the floor. I jerk and squeal, tears streaming freely down my face and joining Greyson’s blood smeared on my neck. God, how has my life come to this? I’m fearing for my captor’s life and wellbeing, when my captor’s the one who destroyed me in ways I’ll never recover from…
And the one who promised to fix me. The one who tells me I’m beautiful and means it. The one who decorated me with diamonds and showed me things about my body I never knew were possible. Who maneuvers me like he owns me, but holds me like he adores me.
Precious flower…
The next time Cain cracks the whip, it isn’t for the sake of scaring either of us. A piercing scream escapes me as the unbelievably cruel whip drags against Monster’s skin in a lightning-quick gesture and leaves an open wound, which instantly begins seeping blood. I cover my mouth with my hand as Monster breathes heavily, writhing on the ground.
Cain doesn’t give him a chance to recover; a second, harder strike comes down, forming an X across the first. I don’t even try to stop the tears as they fall down my cheeks. My very soul wrenches and twists, the scattered, fragmented pieces each wailing in agony with every strike of Cain’s whip.
I count every single one. On the tenth, blood starts splatteringme,and I nearly throw up at the moist, sticky feeling of it covering my cheek. On the twentieth, Greyson can no longer hold back grunts, which turn to shouts on the thirtieth. Those devolve into low, broken moans by the fortieth, and on the fiftieth lash, he doesn’t make any noise at all.
I can’t stay in place any longer. He’s barely fuckingbreathing. I scramble out of my chair and drop to my knees beside him, hands shaking as they hover over his completely raw, torn-up back.
It’s going to take him weeks to heal from this—not to mention thestab wound on his thigh. My tears fall all the harder at the irony of this situation; I’m frantic to help him with his wounds when he was the one to inflict mine. My thoughts are a mess of confusion, so instinct takes over.
“The doctor will be in shortly,” Cain says, breathing hard. “You gotso fucking lucky, Sharpe, and I don’t suggest you test your luck again. Or I’ll administer a punishment toboth of youthat makes this look like fucking child’s play.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Scarlett
The next hour is a blur. Some guys come down to the annex, but I barely notice them—one of them tells me that they’re Monster’s unit, and they’ll make sure he’s taken care of. Max is there, too, and he tries to take me back to the apartment while Monster gets medical treatment, but I can’t bear the thought of him going through this alone.
My arm prickles as I sit beside his bed in the medical wing, my emotions a pit of turmoil, my head buzzing with confusion. I can’t seem to make sense of my thoughts and feelings right now, but there’s one thing I know beyond any shadow of uncertainty; Monster shouldn’t go through this sort of pain alone.
Being alone was always the worst part for me. Being with him wasn’t much better… but I would’vekilledto have someone who actually cared about me beside me. I don’t know if Icareabout Monster. I know Ishouldn’t, that caring about the man who tortured me is wrong, but I can’t help feelingsomethingtoward him. Something that’s much softer than resentment or anger. There’s empathy, but there’s also something else that I can’t identify—don’twantto identify, maybe.
The doctors sedate Greyson, putting him in a deep sleep. Tobias, the one who sat with me after my arm got burned, is also here, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room and typing away on his laptop. We’ve never actually spoken; he strikes me as the quiet and calculating type.
“So,” Tobias says after about an hour of silence. “You’re the one.”
I blink slowly. “I’m sorry?”
