The bones of her shoulder were sharp against my palm. So fragile. She looked like a doll. Breakable but beautiful. Nothing I was meant to own. My skin looked dirty compared to hers and I raised my hand a few inches, half expecting her skin to come away smudged from my touch.

She was nothing I had ever thought was in my reach. She wasn’t meant to be. Nothing I was meant to touch with my scarred, brutal hands.

I wasn’t worthy.

Not worth it.

Not worth it.

Not worth it.

Something hot and sharp clawed at my chest. I didn’t like it, not one bit. I pushed off the bed, staggering to my feet. She stayed on her back, eyes full of confusion and questions, and again that flicker of fucking hope.

“You’d better stop it,” I growled.

“What?” she whispered.

“Hoping. It’s a waste of time.” I picked her up. To me she weighed nothing. I needed her gone, out of my view. I carried her out of my room and into the small guest room, which I’d never had to use before. She trembled against me and for some reason it made me even angrier. I dropped her on the bed and she let out a shocked breath. I turned on my heel, tired of looking at her, of wondering, of doubting myself.

It shouldn’t…it didn’t matter why Falcone had given her to me. She was mine to do with as I pleased. I headed toward the door and slammed it closed behind me. Tomorrow I’d claim her. Worth it or not. I fucking deserved something good in my life.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Cara

I winced as the door slammed shut. Surprised the sound had managed to penetrate the fog of fear and the hammering of my heart. I felt dazed. Slowly I sat up. My body ached, and I wasn’t sure if it was from my fight with Growl or if it was terror manifesting in a more physical way. I knew nothing anymore. My world had been shattered, and soon I’d share the same fate. Growl had left, had spared me for now, but he’d return.

He’d return.

I turned my head very slowly and peered down at my torn shirt, at my naked shoulder. I remembered his touch there. My fingertips brushed the skin, and I shivered, then traced my throat and the spot beneath my ear. His touch was still there, like an imprint. I closed my eyes, released a harsh breath. My heartbeat didn’t slow. My heart raced, as if it was eager to beat its way out of my chest, away, far away from my body.

I wished it were that easy, leaving your body, drifting off to better places and times. But this was foolish thinking. There would be no miracle that would take me away from this place, from Growl’s reach. Most of my life I’d lived in a bubble, removed from the harsh reality that so many people faced. I couldn’t allow myself that luxury anymore. If I wanted to flee my fate, I’d have to save myself. No one would come to my rescue, not my bodyguards who now served Falcone, probably always had. Not my traitorous fiancé. Not my father, who had probably already been dumped somewhere no one could find him, or been given to Falcone’s fight dogs as a snack. My chest clenched, but I fought the emotion. There was no sense in pitying the dead. They had nothing to lose anymore. But I had, my mother had, Talia had.

I let out a shuddering sob and quickly clamped my palm over my lips. I didn’t want Growl to overhear me, lest it excited him and he changed his mind about sparing me for tonight. I crawled toward the edge of the bed and put one foot on the hardwood floor, then waited for my muscles to stop shaking before I dared to get on my feet. My legs felt unsteady. Everything did.

I looked around. This room was even sparser than the last. The walls were empty. The wooden floorboards completely scratched.

Bloodstains marred my shirt. It was ruined. I couldn’t bear wearing it a second longer. I ripped it off my body and wrapped my arms around myself. There were no clothes in the one shabby cupboard I found. Everything I owned was still at my house. There wasn’t another door except the one Growl had left through, so I didn’t have a bathroom to myself. There was nothing, except the shabby furniture. I sank back down onto the mattress. Maybe I could try to sneak out of the house after nightfall. I draped the blanket over my shoulders, covering myself up. If Growl returned, I didn’t want to be wearing nothing except for a bra. As if clothes would stop him.

I heard sniffing and then scratching at the door. My body tightened with fear as I crept toward the door. It sounded like dogs. When I arrived in front of the door, a deep bark sounded and I jumped back. The dog sounded big, dangerous. Hadn’t Father once mentioned that Falcone bred fight dogs for entertainment?

My head swam. This was all too much. I backed away and dropped back down on the bed. What if the dogs found a way inside? They would probably tear me into tiny shreds. That was what they had been bred and trained for. Rumors said that Falcone made millions with bets on dog fights.

My heart sank. I would never be able to leave the house without the dogs noticing. Even if I managed to creep past Growl—and that seemed unlikely considering his vigilance—the dogs were an insurmountable obstacle.

I curled myself into a tight ball on the bed and buried my face in the pillow. It smelled stale, unused. Growl probably didn’t have many overnight guests. The idea almost made me laugh. I wrapped my arms around my legs and closed my eyes. Outside a couple was screaming obscenities at each other, cars were driving by with screeching tires, and doors were slammed.

I wasn’t sure how long I lay like that, but night fell around me and with it came a bone-chilling silence. I wanted the screaming and banging and screeching wheels back. This utter silence made me feel as if I were already dead.

I listened harder for sounds and then wished I hadn’t, because suddenly there was scratching and creaking and rustling. I wasn’t sure what part of it my mind had conjured and what was reality. I was tired and thirsty and hungry. Maybe I’d die from thirst or hunger. Maybe Growl would just forget about me. Starving couldn’t be that bad compared to what might lie in my future if I stayed alive, could it?

Stop it.

I had to stop these crazy thoughts. Going crazy wouldn’t get me out of here. I needed to keep my wits about me, needed to figure out a plan. An image of my mother and Talia flashed behind my closed eyelids, so vivid it was as if they were right before me. Happiness and deep sadness overcame me at the image. Would this memory be the only thing left of them? Would I ever see them again?

Tears welled in my eyes and I didn’t stop them, let them squeeze past my lids and trail down my cheeks. It felt good, a relief after pretending to be strong. I wasn’t, not really, but maybe I could learn. I could be strong for my family, or what was left of it. If not for me, at least for them, I could gather what little courage I possessed and fight against Growl. Again. And again, until one day, perhaps I’d escape my prison.

Growl

I hated feeling. Hated the sharpness and intensity of it. Hated being reminded that I was still human in that regard. I needed to be the monster everyone expected of me; I wanted to be that monster.

I’d fought so hard to be something, anything, more than the bastard and the scar around my throat, more than the son of a whore—I wanted to be more. Always more.

I pushed the gas pedal hard. Perhaps I should have run. I needed to get rid of that excess energy, of that dangerous tightness encompassing my chest. But where I needed to go was too far. I couldn’t wait that long. I needed to release some tension now. Needed to get rid of that sensation in my body. I needed to become myself again. Needed to remind myself of who I was, of what I was.