Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(49)

“So?”

“So, just let her go. She’s not who you want.”

“No, she is not,” he says, pulling her to him rougher, his hand shifting, cupping her chin, forcing her head up so he can look at her tear-streaked face. Kassian only likes brunettes. She doesn’t know how lucky she is. “But she is still very pretty, this one. Melody, yes? I bet you make the most beautiful noises. My men would enjoy making you sing.”

She whimpers, trembling, proving his point.

“Kassian,” I say again, desperate. I can practically see his thought process right now, and it’s all just getting worse by the second. He’ll take her. I know he will. But Melody won’t last a day with those guys. There’s too much goodness, too much emotion, inside of her. They’ll kill her trying to draw it all out. “Let her go.”

“Why?”

“Because you came here for me, remember?” I say, approaching, stopping just within reach. My legs are wobbly, not wanting to be this close to him, but I don’t have a choice, not really. He’s not walking out of here alone. One way or another, he’s taking someone home, so if it’s not me, it’s going to be Melody, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t let him hurt her. “Look, I’m right here.”

He looks at me when I say that.

And I know what he’s thinking.

He’s thinking he can just take us both.

He’s thinking there’s nobody here to stop him.

He’s thinking how he knows I’m not going to let her go alone, that I won’t throw her to the wolves, because so many times he’s watched me take the brunt of his violence to spare other girls.

He’s thinking too much... way too much... and that’s too damn dangerous. I need him to just react.

I take a deep breath, blurting out words on an exhale. “He doesn’t fuck me in front of other people. You know why that is, Kassian? Because he doesn’t need to in order to feel like a man. Unlike you, he’s strong enough to handle me all by himself.”

I regret it... oh, holy fuck, do I regret it... but I can’t take it back. I won’t take it back. The anger takes over just like it did that night, the night he tried to kill me, the night I damn near died. He shoves Melody away from him, pushing her hard. She stumbles, tripping, crying out when she hits the floor. I can’t help her, though. No, she’s on her own.

Kassian grabs me by my neck, yanking me toward him. My vision blurs right away. He doesn’t cut off my airflow. No, he’s not playing games, not trying to make me uncomfortable. Instead, his fingers press just the perfect spot to block the blood flowing to my brain. I go lightheaded instantly, grabbing his wrists. From the corner of my eye, I see Melody get up and run, but I can’t much dwell on what’s going to happen now. I’ve got thirty seconds at most before it all goes black.

Kassian draws me closer, his lips a breath away from my lips, the world around me fading as he whispers, “Stupid little suka, you will always be mine.”



Almost a year ago, on a warm summer night, Kassian Aristov took my life.

I had gone unconscious within seconds, as he gripped my throat, hitting my head when I slammed into the floor. The doctors, they couldn’t be certain, but they suspected he’d held on for minutes, letting go just in the nick of time. In the literal sense, I managed to survive, but that doesn’t change the facts.

That night, Kassian took my life. And now, months later, he almost did it a second time.

When I come to, consciousness rushing through me, rousing me from the darkness, I’m surprised... surprised I’m still alive. It’s cold, and I’m shivering, shaking, my teeth chattering as goose bumps pebble my skin. The rigid floor beneath where I lay feels like it’s covered in frost. The air smells stale as I breathe it in.

Every inch of me feels heavy—too heavy. I sit up, my muscles protesting, and fuck, my throat is sore, my mouth so dry that my voice feels hoarse.

I sense right away that it has been longer than a few minutes. Hours, maybe.

Every blink is exaggerated, my head foggy, like something flows through my bloodstream, weighing me down.

Drugged.

Must’ve known, when I came to, I wouldn’t have come quietly.

My head rattles, swimming, as the faintest thumping noise echoes from above. Even in my groggy state, I recognize where I am.

The basement.

I’ve been here before, under the ground, beneath Limerence, in this filthy concrete dungeon.

Been here way too many times.

I try to shift around, metal clanging as heaviness presses against my chest. Reaching up, feeling around in the darkness, my fingers graze over the cold metal wrapped around my neck, secured with a padlock.

He has me chained here, like an animal.

“Wakey, wakey, pretty girl.”

My breath catches as I turn toward the sound of the voice, the chain clattering against the concrete, echoing around us. It’s hard to make out much of anything down here, but I can sense his gaze on me as something in the shadows shifts.

My voice cracks as I ask, “Why am I here?”

He laughs.

Stepping closer, close enough for my eyes to adjust and make out the shape of him, he says, “Still so much that stupid girl.”

“I thought you were taking me home,” I whisper. “Not here.”