Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(93)

My hand went behind my ear, terror raging. I still had a tracking device in my neck. Q may have taken off his GPS responder, but what if the Mexicans could find me again? Did it automatically fail after time? I needed to find out how to deactivate it, immediately.

Forcing myself to be calm, I said, “Don’t worry about me; tell me what happened to you. So you got home? I’m so sorry you were on your own, Brax. I’m sorry I left you.”

My own tears fell, caused by guilt and the knowledge Brax suffered and stressed. His nightmares would’ve been horrific.

“When I got home, I tried everything to investigate where women were taken from Mexico, but once stolen, most girls were never found. Some were located in Spain, Saudi Arabia, but never alive.

“My heart broke, coming to terms I’d never see you again.” His voice caught, and he looked with such agony, I shrivelled. “Then you called! I wanted to kill myself for not picking up. But my boss had been calling constantly, begging me to return to work, and I put it on silent. When I heard your voice, your panic, the fact that you were alive. Shit, I wanted to break the phone into little pieces for not being able to talk to you.”

His chest pumped as his hands curled. “But you gave me a name. A f*cking bastard called Q Mercer. You gave me a lead. I had no idea what you were doing in France, but I called the Feds, and they took over. They found a wealthy man living in Blois who owned mega property. I did some research, but couldn’t find a single image of him, or what he could be doing with you.

He sighed before continuing, reliving his own nightmare. “The police stayed true to their word. They said they’d investigate, and if they found you, they’d make him release you and put him in jail. I hope to God they hang him.”

The thought of Q dead had horror stabbing my heart. The hate in Brax’s voice chilled me and I rushed to intercede. “Q Mercer wasn’t who I thought he was. I escaped and found myself in worse trouble, but Q rescued me.”

I couldn’t stop the shiver as Brute shot into my mind. Forcing it away, I added, “He helped me heal, then let me go.” Those two paragraphs would be all I uttered on the matter. It was my life, tied with a pretty pink bow.

Brax screwed up his face. “You’re saying he just let you go? The police never showed up?”

I smiled. “The police arrived, and thank you for helping them find me. But Q was going to give me up all along.” My heart twisted, wishing it wasn’t true. “You see, he rehabilitates women who are broken and sold. He buys them, but once they’re healed, he sends them home.” I couldn't stop the swell of pride in my chest. Q wasn’t a monster. He may think he was, but a monster would never do that. A monster would torture and rape and kill. Not offer freedom after a life of misery.

Brax relaxed a little. “So, he never touched you? You were kept safe and protected this entire time?” Eyes dropped to the sheet I pressed against my throat. “What about the marks on your body?”

I sat straighter, hoping like hell I hid the truth. “I got those when I ran away. I lived in luxury, and made friends with his maid, Suzette.” I beamed brighter, fighting watery grief threatening to crush. “I’m fine. Honestly. Together, we can get our lives back on track.”

He cocked his head, and, for a moment, I wondered if he didn’t buy my lie, but then he reached for me. I climbed into his arms.

Brax kissed the top of my head, murmuring, “It’s all going to be better now. You’re home. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

I snuggled closer and didn’t say a word.





Woodpecker



A human is adaptable. A human heart is not.

A month trickled past, and I resumed my old life as if I’d never gone. Two weeks after returning, I called my parents.

Brax told them what happened in Mexico, and they cremated an old stuffed unicorn of mine, then scattered it in the back garden, believing I was dead. In their old, foggy minds, my reincarnation was a messy ordeal, not a happy second chance. The conversation was stilted and hard.

I never called again.

I became addicted to raging songs, just like Q. The lyrics shared my pain, letting it unleash from festering inside.




Your memory won’t leave my head

haunting me, hunting me, driving me crazy, I wish I were dead

every time I close my eyes, you’re there, ready to suck me into dark desires

reality is where I no longer want to be, my dreams are my salvation

I will cut you out, chop you up, break every bone in my body

if only it meant peace from your dark melody




I never played the songs when Brax was home, but when it was just me and loneliness, words rained with heartache and need.

In my dreams, Q visited, and I woke to shooting stars and orgasms. By day, I forced myself to act and lie and be Tessie. The truth and Q blistered my heart; I became as successful in hiding my feelings as he was.

My secrets stayed locked behind a fortress of blue-eyed innocence. My body healed and the whiplashes no longer showed. But they blazed bright and red on my soul.

Some nights, I twisted my nipples so hard, just to try and recreate mind-tripping lust like Q, but it never worked.

The vibrancy and encompassing life he’d given became a distant, dark paradise. Reality took over. I sat my final exams for uni. They let me take my tests late, due to circumstances, and I passed with flying colours. Brax took me out for dinner to celebrate, but I fumbled through the evening, aware I’d snipped another anchor keeping me here. I had an education now. The only thing tethering me was Brax. And day after day proved it wasn’t enough.