Storming over to her, I surprise her when I grab onto her jaw, my fingers digging brutally into the flesh. “Naked, babe. You’re still half dressed.” When I drag the knife along her breast and down over her belly, she winces in fear. Fucking finally.
I deserve her hot cunt.
“Okay, Brandon, okay.”
I release her and watch as she shimmies out of her pants. As soon as her perfect * is on display, I ache to taste it. To put my mouth on her hot cunt and remind her of why she loves me—not that bastard in the hospital.
I deserve her entire body.
“What are you going to do?” she demands, her teeth gritting together. I’ll give it to my girl for her bravery—she’s one tough bitch after what Gabe put her through.
I kick my shoes off and start unbuckling my belt. “What I should have done a long time ago.”
I deserve to fuck her into tomorrow.
She starts to squirm away from me but I seize her ankle and yank her back over to the edge of the bed. “Brandon, don’t do this,” she begs, fear finally threading her words. “This isn’t you.”
I deserve her pleas and screams.
I smirk, not feeling at all like that timid little * boy she once loved. “You’re right, babe. I’m different and I’m tired of being a fucking virgin while you fuck every goddamned prick on the West Coast. Keep your eyes open, Baylee. I want you to know who’s fucking you this time.”
I deserve all of this.
I waited for her.
I rescued her.
I killed for her.
I deserve her.
My Baylee.
BRANDON’S NORMAL TWINKLING green eyes are dulled into something dark and deviant. I don’t recognize his voice, his hateful smile, or the menacing expression and crazed look in his eyes. He’s not the boy from high school—the boy who was shy about giving me my first kiss or meeting my parents for the first time. This isn’t the boy who I cried for when Gabe took me.
Gone is the boy from my past.
This man is a product of Gabe’s actions.
Gabe created the monster before me.
“Please,” I beg again as his grip becomes tighter around my ankle. “I’m pregnant,” I blurt out.
His green eyes spark to life as he takes pause. I watch in wonder as his gaze darts back and forth between me and my belly as if trying to make sense of my words. I hear a creak on the wood floors in the bedroom. A pair of eyes peer back at me just beyond Brandon. A familiar pair of eyes. A pair of eyes that belong to the devil.
I’m seeing things.
Brandon seems to snap out of his daze and works at his jeans to free his cock. While he’s preoccupied, I rear back with my free foot and kick him with every bit of force I can dredge up in his chest. It doesn’t faze him, though, because he laughs and twists my ankle in his grip to the point of pain, causing me to yelp out.
“You must be deaf because I clearly heard her demand for you not to touch her.” As if the devil has any room to talk. Brandon freezes as Gabe steps closer, pointing a gun at him.
So I’m not seeing things.
A bruised and bandaged up Gabe enters the bedroom. He walks with a slight limp and winces.
“I killed you,” Brandon murmurs in disbelief as if he’s seeing a ghost. “You were dead.”
Gabe laughs but then coughs. “No, you beat me, when I couldn’t defend myself, and then you dumped me into my cellar. You broke bones, but you didn’t break me,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Drop the knife on the bed and step away from her.”
Brandon lets the knife fall on the edge of the bed and takes three slow steps away from it. Gabe winks at me and I shiver.
“How did you get out?” I ask softly. There was no way out. I should know, I was in that cellar for days and felt every surface looking for an alternate escape route.
He remains perfectly still, only his eyes sliding over to meet mine when he says, “There was a window. You just never found it, baby.” He shrugs dismissively, like I just lost a simple coin toss over who has to do the dishes that night.
I sit up and glare at him, reaching for my hoodie and sliding it on over my head. “There was no window!”
“There was. It was painted black near the ceiling. It was hard as hell finding all the brick grooves to stick my toes in so I could scale the wall but, I managed,” he says in a triumphant tone. “Too bad you two were long gone before I got out. Otherwise, we could have had fun together.”
Brandon starts toward Gabe but he aims the gun, fitted with a silencer, at his head.
“Don’t even try it, * boy. Why don’t we start by you telling Baylee what you did to Tony?”
My eyes find the enraged ones of Brandon. His jaw clenches as if the boy I knew from before is clinging on desperately. Begging him not to make things worse. I can’t help but be thankful for the truth that Gabe will no doubt force from him.
“You know nothing,” Brandon snaps. “I did nothing.”
The muscle in Gabe’s forearm flexes as his finger hovers over the trigger. “I’m not stupid. You and I both know what you did.”