Page 82 of Merciless

Has he found me? Is Mav here to rescue me? It’s wishful thinking, but I can’t help but hold onto the hope with both hands.

I push to my feet and stumble forward, desperate to look into my husband’s dark eyes.

The warmth of Reid’s hand radiates from where he presses it against my lower back to steady me. It’s probably the nicest thing he’s done since I was thrown down here. It makes my head spin.

"I gave my new pet a makeover. What do you think?" he asks as we emerge from my cell.

I look up, more than ready to throw myself into Mav’s arms and never let go.

My heart drops when I find the angry, yet intrigued eyes of Kane Legend.

Fuck.

"Yeah, I think I might have missed my calling in life," Reid says, shoving me forward until I have little choice but to sit in the damn chair again.

Kane’s stare doesn’t leave me, and I can’t help but wonder what he sees in my eyes.

My pain? My rough and jagged broken bits?

The truth?

"No, no. I think you're exactly where you should be,” Kane says, amusement laced through his tone as he looks between the two of us then around at Reid’s torture chamber.

To my utter shock, and proving just how fucking awful I look, Reid pours and hands me a glass of water.

It’s ice-cold and exactly what I need. Although, mouthwash would probably be more effective right now.

Kane studies me as I sip it, praying it doesn’t upset my empty stomach and force me to puke all over his feet.

I’m pretty sure I’ve already tried to ruin his life enough recently.

Eventually, though, the silence and Kane’s rapt attention on me gets too much for Reid.

"Come on, Pet. Don't keep my boy waiting. Tell him exactly what you told me.”

I think back briefly to the confessions I’ve made and I look Kane dead in the eyes, hoping that along with the exhaustion and pain he can also see my apology.

"H-he made me," I whisper, the weight of my confession pressing down on my shoulders.

"He? Who's he?" Kane growls, his voice low and deadly.

Many in the Creek might be scared of Kane. Hell, I have been a little cautious a time or two. The man has a fucking temper on him. But right now, he’s the least of my worries.

"V-Victor,” I stutter, hating that I stumble over his name when the image of my nightmare comes back to me.

The water in my stomach turns to acid, burning me from the inside out.

"He made you tell me that you were pregnant?"

I nod. What else is there to say?

I lied. He caught me. I’m now stuck down here with the devil and his best friend, who’s trying to kill me with nothing but unfiltered desire.

"Why?"

"He wants to keep you,” I explain as if it’s not obvious.

Kane made an agreement with Victor Harris a couple of years ago that he’d walk free and attend college on a football scholarship if he was offered one.

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