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My heart climbs into my throat, and I’m suddenly light-headed. Am I really doing this? Then Damon looks at me, searches my face, and cups my cheeks between his hands.
“You don’t have to go in there. You can go about your day knowing he got exactly what was coming to him.”
Tempting. Tempting to keep my conscience at least a modicum of clean. Damon’s watching me with patience, letting me work this out on my own. But for once, I don’t want to overthink it. I don’t want to be the perfect girl who does perfect things, that everyone likes.
I’m not that girl, and the man tied up inside that room is who made me this way.
I lift on my toes and press a chaste kiss against Damon’s mouth. “My darkness matches your darkness. Right?”
He growls low, tugging me into him, and bites my lower lip hard. “Jesus Christ. You’re lucky I don’t fuck you right here.”
The door swings open behind him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Damon eyes the dark-eyed man. He has two guns strapped in a holster around his shoulders, then nods. “Nico.”
“Are you seriously trying to fuck your girl while you have someone being tortured?”
A girl with fiery red hair peeks her head around his shoulder. She’s in a band T-shirt and short black shorts that show off matching twin guns strapped to her legs. “It’s better than that time we did it during the torture.”
“Okay, Firecracker. Stop fucking with them.” A man wraps his arms around her middle, dwarfing her. His hair is buzzed at the sides, revealing grayscale tattoos that run from his neck all the way down his arms.
She swats him off and holds out her hand to me. “I’m Rae. You ready to torture this asshole?”
I examine her. She’s a few inches shorter than me, probably more than a few pounds. But she’s not afraid of anyone here; she’s not squeamish about what’s happening. She is so fucking cool.
My hands shake when I take hers, and she gives it an extra squeeze. “Love your hair.”
I’d pinned as much of the lavender mass as I could on top of my head. “Thanks. He did it.”
I gesture to Damon, who’s watching me intently.
“No shit!” Rae claps with genuine excitement.
I can already tell the girls would love her. Just have to hide the guns and torture and stuff.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Little Thief, but the punk just came to, and I’m not sure how much longer we’ll have him. I may have gone a little overboard.”
Terror would’ve overwhelmed me at the sight of the guy, now towering over us, blond hair slicked back, blood splattered over his cheeks, partially covering his multicolored tattoos. It’s the way he’s looking at Rae like she hung his literal moon that keeps him from looking scary.
“Are you covered in blood?” The words are out before I can stop them.
There’s a dimple in the blond’s cheek when he faces me. “You can be, too, if you want.”
He winks—freaking winks—before turning back into the room.
Damon’s hands hold my upper arms, supporting me. “You know, most people are afraid of them.”
I tilt my head back to read his expression. “Should I be afraid?”
“Of Beck? Normally. But you never have to be afraid when you’re with me. Nothing bad will ever happen to you.”
Lightness fills my chest, like years of weight have been lifted from my shoulders. “Let’s see, shall we.”
He doesn’t let go of my arms when I walk into the room, and I quickly realize why. My knees wobble and knock together at the sight of Thomas. He’s in the middle of the space, sitting on a bench, and his arms are strung up with chains to the ceiling.
It’s like reality smacks me in the face, and I’m suddenly not sure about any of this anymore.
“Fucking slut. You never could do what you’re told.” Thomas spits blood out. “Did you tell him how fucking broken you are? How useless you are to him.”
