by Knight
CONTENTS
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Epilogue
Author Note Continued
About the Author
Also By K.A Knight
Copyright © 2019 K.A. Knight, all rights reserved
Written by K.A. Knight
Rage (Her Monsters Book One)
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, events or real people are entirely coincidental.
Edited By Jess from Elemental Editing and Proofreading & Kaila Duff
Formatted by Kaila Duff of Duffette Literary Services
For my three-way girls, I never knew you could find your soulmates in friends before you.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Please be aware that this book contains scenes that some may find triggering.
If you have any concerns, please skip to the last page of the book, where I’ve given a more specific warning that does contain some spoilers.
I hate my husband. If I could, I would take this lingerie and choke him to death with it. Eying the newest addition of horrible gifts he’s given me, I frown at myself in the mirror. I’ve gotten skinny, well, skinnier, probably due to his constant fucking need to control what I eat. He says I’m too chunky, that no one will love me if I’m fat. Eying myself now, I feel like a stranger. I loved my curves, the dip in my hips, my rounded stomach, my thick thighs, and ass. Just another thing I’ve lost in my life because of him. Don’t get me wrong, I chose this, well at first I did. He was charming, dressed to the nines in suits and expensive shoes. He spoilt me, taking me to all these fancy restaurants and showing me off. I should have known then that behind that charming facade hid a monster. I never questioned the money, or the lifestyle, not even when the ridiculous gifts started turning up.
It was little things at first, like clothing. I’d felt flattered, but then I realised he was trying to control what I wore, and they were always a size too small. When I asked, he told me I would have to lose weight to fit into them. That was a big no for me, I might be poor, but I knew who I was—well, I used to. I tried to get away, I really did. I stopped texting him back and answering his calls. It only seemed to enrage him, and I’d finally got a glimpse of what he’d hid under that glossy surface.
He started turning up at my apartment in the middle of the night in a rage. In my fear, I’d rung the police. My second mistake. He had them in his pockets, well, more like his boss did. They escorted me somewhere ‘safe,’ only to pass me over to him. He locked me in the penthouse apartment he called home for three weeks after that.
I’d lost my job, my friends. They thought I didn’t want them in my life anymore—nothing could have been further from the truth. I was so alone, so scared. He pictured himself as my savior.
A new plan formed, I went along with it all, but my escape was always lingering in my mind. Waiting for him to slip up, to trust me, and he did. When he fell asleep one night after getting blackout drunk, I snuck out with nothing but the clothes on my back. I had slept on the streets before, I could do it again. Get somewhere safe, away from him.
I lasted a week before his men found me. It was the first time he attacked me. I soon learnt my lesson and he broke my spirit. Time and time again, my body was his to do with what he wanted, even though a small part of me had rebelled at his control, hated him, but I knew I had to bide my time. Be smart, play the perfect girlfriend—sorry, wife.
About a month ago, I woke up tied to a chair with a wedding ring on my finger and a bored looking man ordaining our marriage. He touched me softly that night, telling me he loved me. That I was his everything, he was so happy that I had agreed to marry him. When he fell asleep, I’d crept into the bathroom, the one he took the door off of, and cried. I thought about ending my life, there was no escape from him. His men were everywhere and the police were under his control. I was nothing, just a poor girl from a small town who came to the city to try and make a better life. Even my friends had been more like acquaintances, people to ride out the boring with.
I’d even picked up his razor blade, but I couldn't do it. I’d wait years if I had to—but I would be free of him.
I hear him moving in the other room and it brings me back to myself. The lingerie he’s given me is disgusting. It frames my now too skinny body, highlighting my large breasts and plump arse. I look like a fucking sex doll. The red lace frames my pale skin and the bruises marring it.
“Are you ready? You know how I hate waiting?” he calls, his voice already slurring from the whiskey he’s drinking.
I know that means it’s going to be a bad night. Blowing out a breath, I step into the bedroom to see him lounging on the bed in his suit, scrolling through his phone. The one thing he is more obsessed with than me.
“Tim, I can’t-” I flinch when his hard eyes look me over.
“What did we discuss last night?” His hard voice holds a warning and I tilt my head down, pretending to be submissive even as I fight myself to not look into his eyes and spit.
“Sorry, sir, I can’t wear this in front of your men,” I say softly, hoping he will let me change.
He slides from the bed and stalks towards me, stopping when his breath hits my face, making me crinkle my nose. “And why not?” he asks.
Think fast. Placing my hand gently on his chest, I shiver at the disgust crawling along my skin, even as he groans and grips my hips, thinking I want him. “Surely, sir, you don’t want your men to be able to look at what is yours?” I lower my voice, trying to be seductive.
Fluttering the fake eyelashes he makes me wear, I watch him carefully in case he snaps.
He hardens against my hand and I know it was the wrong move. “You dare question me? You question your husband?” he screams the questions in my face, and my heart stutters. Later he will blame the whiskey, he will cry and hold my broken body as he begs for my forgiveness, but for now, he is the monster I know and hate.
“I wouldn- I just-” My words cut off in a scream, as he rips one of the dangling diamond
earring he demanded I wear from my ear. Pain shoots through my body, but I’ve had worse. I can feel the blood dripping down my neck and splashing on my heaving breasts. The sight only seems to spur him on.
“You will do what you are told.” He grips my chin and makes me look at him, his eyes are blown with lust, and I have to force myself not to cry. A knock at the door distracts him and I am eternally grateful, every time he fucks me it’s like I lose a piece of myself. My body isn’t my own.
“What the fuck do you want?” he yells, still gripping my chin hard enough to leave a bruise.
The door cracks open and one of his henchmen sticks his head around the door. He looks me over, appreciation filling his gaze before it quickly snaps back to Tim, as if not to be caught. “Sorry for the interruption sir, but they are here.” He retreats but throws me a smoldering look. I just stare blankly at him as the door shuts.
Grunting, Tim lets go of my chin and seems to forget I’m even there. Striding to the table next to his—our—bed, he downs his whiskey before shrugging into his black jacket and slipping his phone into the pocket.
He turns and looks me over. “You will do.” With that, he grips my arm and drags me from the room, and I know I am nothing more than an ornament tonight, a thing for him to show off. To flaunt his wealth and power.
Sitting on Tim’s knee as he laughs and jokes with his men, I look around in disgust. The penthouse is buzzing with activity. Butlers and servers rushing about, the women looking uneasy as the men taunt them and touch them, but none would dare question it. Not here, not now. These men are powerful, they run the city from the darkness like puppeteers. Police? They own them. Mayor? He is one of them. I can feel the eyes running down my body, undressing me and fucking me in their mind. I have to swallow my bile, even as it seems to please Tim.
“Wife, get me a drink,” he demands, pushing me from his knee and smacking my ass. The group of men we sit with eye me hungrily, and I know if they got the chance they would fuck me.
“Yes, sir,” I grit out and march away. I hear them congratulating him on landing such a well behaved slave. Fucking arseholes.
When I reach the bar, a man blocks my way. He’s big, his eyes are sharp and filled with anger, and his body almost vibrates with hate—for who I don’t know and I don’t want to.
I sidestep him and he mirrors my movement, blocking me again. Without speaking to me, he reaches forward and fondles my breast. I step back, wanting to murder him, and he just laughs and wanders away. Fuck it, his drink can wait. I’ll pay for it later, but I need a moment or I will explode.
Striding away, I slip around the corner and into the bathroom in the hallway, hiding for a moment.
I swipe at the useless tears tracking down my face and hang my head, looking down at the sink. How I wish I could go back in there, steal one of the guns they’re all packing and just kill them all. I was once a good girl, I did as I was told, I followed the law—fuck, I didn't even speed. I enjoyed sex and men, but who doesn't. Now? The darkness is almost overtaking me, I would do anything—be anything—if it meant they got to pay for their sins.
The door opens and I freeze, swinging my head around to face the wide-eyed waiter. Shit, did I not lock the door? Stupid, Dawn, real stupid. Straightening, I try to pretend he didn't just witness me having a breakdown, but I see his eyes soften and his face fill with concern. He slips inside and shuts the door gently, holding his hands up when I step back and meet the wall.
“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. Are you okay?” He steps forward again, his young face filled with determination and concern. I wonder what it’s like to be that innocent. “I saw you earlier and I can see the bruises, do you need me to help you?”
“You should go before someone sees you,” I say softly, not wanting to be responsible for another man's death. Because if he’s caught in here, that's what it will mean—hell, he killed a man for looking at me funny once.
“I can help you,” he urges, lowering his voice like I’m cornered animal.
“Please, leave!” I beg, looking around desperately. I can’t, I can’t have anyone else's blood on my hands.
The door opens just then and my heart sinks. He hears it and spins, standing in front of me like he can defend me. Tim’s man from before looks from me to the waiter with a grin. “Well, well princess, lookie what I found. He’s going to be so mad, I wonder if he will let me punish you again.”
The waiter puffs up in indignation at his words, even as I go numb. “You can’t just talk-” His words cut off in a gurgle as Tim’s man darts forward and cuts off his air.
“You are coming with me. I can’t wait to see what he does to you.” The man laughs and drags the choking waiter from the bathroom. I hesitate before following, each step pounding into my head with finality. When I reach the living room, I spot Tim standing with a frown. When he sees the waiter in his man’s hand, and me lingering behind, his face turns molten. He excuses himself from the conversation and strides towards us.
He doesn’t stop until he grips my arm, hard. “Bring him with us,” he growls before dragging me down the corridor and throwing me into the bedroom. I fly onto the floor before quickly getting to my knees. A thump sounds next to me and I turn to see the gasping waiter his face purple, is on the floor next to me. Looking over my shoulder, I spot the door closing as another of Tim’s men slips inside and stands in front of it with the first. I’m trapped, and I have a bad fucking feeling.
“Sir, I-” My words are cut off as he backhands me, sending me sprawling to the carpet. I hear his men laugh, even as I spot the waiter trying to get to his feet, anger still seeping to his expression. This kid really doesn't give up, you’ve got to admire him for it.
“Stay down and you might live,” I whisper, knowing it’s a lie. They will kill him, they have to.
I slowly get up, standing on my wobbly legs and face Tim. His eyes are dark and filled with hate, his chest is heaving. I have seen him mad many times, but this... this is fury and he isn’t in control anymore. That scares me more than anything.
“Sir-” I try one more time, determined to at least try and save the kid’s life, but he doesn’t let me finish the sentence. I’m thrown onto the bed, gasping. He’s on me in a minute, hovering over me as his fists hammer into my skin. I try to protect my head by raising my arms, but one of his men steps in and ties them to the headboard. Looking up, I spot my death in his eyes and tonight is the night I know he won’t stop.
I lose count of the hits, my body is just one big pulsing mass of agony. I feel my ribs crack and my skin tear. Blood drips steadily down my face as he finally climbs off, allowing me to see the pale faced waiter staring at me in horror.
Tim pulls his gun and fires a shot in each of the waiter’s legs. The kid screams in pain as tears drip down his face. Only when he looks up again does Tim shoot him in the head. I watch the kid’s lifeless body drop to the floor as blood starts to pool around him.
He tucks the gun back in his pants and turns to me, hatred contorting his face. “You think I would let him touch you? You. Are. Mine!” he screams, flying at me again.
Tears stream unchecked down my face, as my breathing saws in and out of my damaged chest. I can feel my body breaking and I grin. At least I can escape him in death. My smile seems to spur him on. He yells, screaming nonsense as he grabs a knife and starts cutting. I feel each slice, each cut, and it blurs into all the other pain. My focus narrows down to my breathing as I watch him above me, killing me.
With a scream he buries the knife in my stomach, and looking down, I spot the blood pumping from the wound, and I know it’s a killing blow. All my other pale skin is covered in blood, and in places, I can see my muscle showing.
My head falls back as my heart stutters, my breathing becomes harder and darkness edges my vision. I could fight it, but what's the point? My only regret is not being able to make him and his men pay for what they have done to me.
“Fuck!” he screams, obviously coming back
to himself, seeing what he has done.
He yanks out the blade, a stupid mistake, and tries to staunch the flow of blood. When he realises it’s futile, he freezes on top of me. I feel myself going cold and my breathing becomes erratic.
“Might as well have one last fuck with her,” he jokes, but I can hear the pain underneath and his men leave the room. I retreat back into the darkness, not wanting to witness this. Even when I’m dead I can’t catch a break, the last thing my dying body will experience is that pig rutting into me. It sends a stab of fury and hatred right through me, if only I could make him pay. Make him scared like I am, watch him die horrifically. It’s my last thought before the darkness takes me.
Am I fucking dead yet? It’s the only thing I can think of as I feel myself being carried, before I question further, the feeling fades to nothingness.
I manage to fight against the darkness again, only to realise I’m literally in darkness, something is moving and I’m banging about. I’m in the fucking boot of a car. I fade again.
Something cold and wet lands on my face, and my body is too heavy to move away from it as more lands on me. The sound of a shovel ringing out has me panicking, is he burying me? I fade again.
It’s harder to fight the darkness this time, it clings to my body, dragging me back with a wordless promise of happiness and love, but I don't want that. I want revenge, I want pain and blood. The thought helps me fight through the dark shroud until my mouth opens with a gasp, and my eyes fly open to see nothing but more darkness. I feel insects and bugs crawling on me, and I have to breathe through the panic. That motherfucker killed and buried me.
Wait, I felt myself die... how am I alive?
Something calls for me across the forest, which is my home. The trees move for me, the ground welcomes me, and the animals flock to me, but this is something else. Something dark, primal, and filled with power. It curls around me, restarting my cold dead heart, and yanks on the lifeless muscle. I don’t bother changing back to human, I can’t even remember the last time I was in that constricting form. I prefer the solitude of the wild where I can be me. I venture into the modern world every now and again. I read the stories they write about me, the tales and scriptures. They have it all wrong, but it is amusing, humans are such fragile creatures. They are born, and then they live for a few years, slowly rotting away. They cause wars, they use words instead of weapons. It all seems so... contrived. They won’t last, if only they knew what lingered in their world. Monsters, like me, walking in the dark, the nightmares they whisper about and the stories they use to scare themselves.
