Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(87)

My stomach twisted. I didn’t realize how much I valued Suzette’s friendship. “I didn’t call the police. I called my boyfriend and told him about Q, but… that’s all.”

She stopped chopping. “And you think that makes it okay?” She closed her eyes, visibly forcing away her black mood. When she reopened, her hazel eyes sparkled, but no longer furious. “I know you were terrified when you first arrived. I know you suffered in Mexico. I know you missed your boyfriend—I can’t hate you for being a fighter, for running, for being brave. I just wish you’d given us more time before judging and making a bad decision.” She picked up the knife and resumed slicing.

Chills darted down my back. She spoke in past tense…

Mrs. Sucre opened an oven, and heavenly scents of cinnamon and sugar wafted as she removed perfectly cooked sweet buns. She placed them in front of me, waving a tea-towel, causing little wisps of steam to curl.

I tried to ignore racing heartbeats. I hated this feeling. This eerie sense of loss. “Mrs. Sucre. Have you seen Master Mercer? I need to speak with him.”

Suzette stiffened but didn’t look up.

She shook her head. “No. He left half an hour or so ago. I doubt he’ll be home for a while.”

Sadness rushed; I gripped the countertop. He left without a goodbye. What did you expect? Just because you let him whip you last night, you thought things would be different?

It shouldn’t hurt so much… it was to be expected. It was a week-day and he had an empire to run. But he didn’t just leave this morning. He ran. Something wasn’t right. “Oh,” was all I managed.

Mrs. Sucre gave me a compassionate look, sharp brown eyes assessing. With a soft smile, she passed me a warm bun. “Best eat, child. Never know when you’ll eat again.”

I locked eyes with her, shivers darting down my back. “Why won’t I know?” Instincts roared to life and I ran around the countertop to grab her wrist. “What do you mean?”

Suzette watched with wide eyes, anger changing to sadness. She opened her mouth to speak, but a masculine baritone came from behind me.

“She means your stay with us has come to an end, esclave.”

No.

Letting Mrs. Sucre go, I spun to face Franco. He stood, crisp and sharp, black shades on his head, the same folder Q first showed me when I arrived from Mexico in his hands. The file the kidnappers created. The file referring to me only as Blonde Girl on Scooter.

My heart convulsed. Q knew what he was doing the entire time. I was unbelievably stupid not to see it. Asking for one night to do what he wished. One night, because that’s all he needed. Then he kicked me out. The user. The bastard.

Franco came closer; I scuttled back, bumping into the warm, soft body of Mrs. Sucre. By throwing me out, Q tore me from people who cared more than my parents. The maternal comfort of Mrs. Sucre, the strange sisterhood with Suzette. Even my weird connection to Franco.

It was all over.

Franco smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He stopped in front of me. Mrs. Sucre placed hands on my shoulders, offering support as Franco ducked to one knee and sliced through the GPS tracker. It fell off my ankle, clattering to the tiles.

The symbolism that Q no longer cared slapped like a bitch. He’d removed his protection, his strange affection. He was throwing me back to a world full of Brutes and Drivers.

“That’s it then? I have no say?” I fissured, hurting beyond comprehension. Q was too spineless to do this himself. He ordered his staff to remove me like an unwanted pet. I laughed morbidly. “I’m to be put down like some rabid poodle.” It might be best if I was shot. How would I cope with everything?

Franco chuckled. “Hardly, esclave. You’re going home.”

Home. The word didn’t conjure happiness and belonging anymore. It was foreign and bleak.

Q cast me back to a world I never wanted to return to. Tossing me out like the unwanted Christmas present.

Mrs. Sucre squeezed my shoulders, before dropping her hands and pushing me toward Franco. “Go, now. Put this all behind you.”

I dashed to Suzette, capturing her hands. Eyes flashed to mine; her pity made my heart bleed. “I don’t want to go, Suzette. Running away was a huge mistake. You’ll explain to Q and let me stay, won’t you? You keep saying I’m good for him. That he’s a better man than I know. I want to be worthy, Suzette. I want to stay and hear his story.”

She unlatched my fingers, stepping back. “I know, Tess, but it’s too late. Q brokered a deal with the police. No charges will be brought against him if he sends you home. This is the only way.”

My heart ached so much it hurt to breathe. That was how he got the police to stay away. Giving me up to save his own ass.

“No! I can’t go. I want to stay. I need to stay.”

Franco appeared, gathering me in strong, prison-like arms. “Come along. We’re on a deadline.” And just like that, he carted me from the kitchen, away from Suzette, away from my new life.

As we walked through the lounge, I briefly contemplated hitting him and running. I could lock myself in the bedroom, and wait for Q to tell me himself he didn’t want me. But Franco was too strong. It would be pointless.

Franco marched me out the door, chuckling wryly. “Funny, how this began with me pushing you through the door to bow to your new master.” He laughed again before adding, “Never had to kick a slave out before.”