by P. Jameson
Well, he wasn’t. But he’d never hurt Vegas. Surely, she could see that in the way he went to work for Bastian just to keep watch over her.
Marlee turned back to the picture in Fang’s grip. “This one is Janet, and this is Skye. And over here is Nyla.”
Fang squinted, staring so hard at the Dolls. As if he wanted inside the photo just to make sure. But then he sighed. “No. Not mine. And fuck, I still don’t know what you expect me to do here. You want me to care about females I have no claim to. Why?”
“Because it’s the right thing,” Marlee answered, as if it was obvious.
But Fang jerked his head back in surprise. “The right thing? Is it? Because I don’t see it like that. How is the right thing bringing them into this shithole, this fucked up place? How, when it’s no better than where they are now.”
“But this place is changing,” she argued.
Fang laughed. “Look around, sweetheart. I just fucked three different females in this room with everyone watching and drank more alcohol than any human liver could ever hope to process. All the males here did the same. You wanna bring your friends here? You think this is some… safe haven?”
Felix grinned lazily. He was loving the torn look on Marlee’s face. She glanced to Ratchet but he only glared at Fang.
“I’m just saying,” Fang continued, passing the photo to Felix. But their leader only stared at Marlee. Fang shook the picture to get his attention. But it didn’t work.
“Check the picture, Felix,” Skittles said.
“Don’t need to.”
“There are unclaimed females. What if one of them is yours? Your redemption.”
This moved Felix’s gaze. But not to the picture, to his second. “So what if one of them is? Do you think I give a fancy fuck?”
Skittles’s gaze narrowed. “Yeah, asshole. I think you do. I think you should.”
Felix smiled cruelly. “Not looking at the goddamn picture. I’ll find another way to get my bastard cat back.”
Skittles moved forward, energy radiating from him, fingers twitching like he wanted Felix’s blood on them. “Look at the fucking picture and see if your female is there.”
Felix straightened, but he didn’t look big and bad like he had in the past. He was too sick from existing apart from his animal. The entire clan knew he was losing it.
“No.”
“Do it,” Skittles ground out. “Or so help me god—”
Felix snatched the photo from Fang’s grasp, but he didn’t examine it. Instead, he kept his brutal gaze on Skittles as he took it between both hands and ripped it down the middle, tossing the pieces into the air.
Monster froze as the energy in the room charged to furious levels. He looked to Skittles and could have sworn he saw flames balled in his fists as he watched the pieces of his precious picture flutter to the ground.
“You fucking piece of shit.” It was the last words out of Skittles’s mouth before he lunged, taking their leader to the ground with a furious growl.
The room exploded with grunts and roars. Fists flew as Skittles pounded Felix’s face, and Felix tried to buck him off.
But they barely got bloody. Because before they could get more than a few punches in, a vicious animal’s roar vibrated the room and heat blistered the air.
“Fuck.” Skittles scrambled backward off of Felix as Ratchet’s firecat ripped from his body.
The Alley Cats scattered, making room for the blazing beast. But Ratchet didn’t stay shifted for long.
Fire inside a building usually meant something was going to catch fire.
“We don’t have time for this shit,” Ratchet growled, fully naked after shifting back to human. “We need to decide if we’re going for the Dolls tonight… or not.”
Monster grinded his molars in frustration.
“I don’t see the fucking point,” Fang shot off.
And that was all Monster could stomach.
“Because, one day, you will find your female, and you will wish the clan had your back,” he spat.
Fang straightened, as if he hadn’t thought of that possibility before.
And Monster could see others taking his words to heart too.
“The Dolls need help. And they need it now. It can’t wait for you guys to get your shit sorted. They need us now. And if you won’t help because your female isn’t one of the ones in the picture… then help because your brothers are fucking asking you to.” He stared right at Fang while he said the next part. “And because someday you will want our help too.”
The place was quiet, each cat weighing Monster’s words. He knew they were using Alley Cat logic—what’s in it for me—but that’s what he was counting on. Because deep down, they all wanted to be fixed. More than just their animal side. They wanted their hearts fixed.
And yeah, maybe they didn’t feel the pull of being responsible for another person, of needing someone like he needed Vegas. But they would. Someday, they would.
Fang stared hard at Monster. He was the first to nod.
“Yeahhh, what the hell. I ain’t got nothing better to do tonight. My dick is limp and you already ran off all the females. So there’s no fixing it. Besides, pissing Bastian off sounds like my kinda fun.” He sighed, looking more sober than Monster ever remembered seeing him. “Count me in.”
Smokes nodded slowly, arms crossed, cigarette hanging between his lips. “I’ll do it. We a clan ain’t we? Shouldn’t we act like it?”
More nods, more grunted agreements.
“Felix?”
The cat got to his feet, blood streaming from his nose. He shook his head, looking deadly even as he swayed like a tree about to fall.
“Nothing in it for me.”
“Revenge?” Fang offered.
Felix shrugged it off. “My beef is with those goddamn witches. And the brothers who betrayed our clan.”
Gash and Malcom had wanted out. Wanted a better life. Monster didn’t blame them. Maybe he had at one time. Maybe he’d wanted to flay them as much as Felix did. But he knew now, what desperation would make a male betray his brothers.
“And the Junkyard Dogs,” Smokes reminded.
The werewolf pack from across town had long been enemies of the Alley Cats. Ever since they betrayed Felix when he sent them to capture Gash and bring him back to Memphis. Felix blamed them as much as the witches for the curse on the Alley Cats. But the two shifter clans both worked for Bastian, the Lord of Memphis, so their war had stifled. That and because the Dogs still had their wolves while the Cats were little more than human.
Powerless.
Felix eyed Smokes. “What do they have to do with it?”
Smokes drew in a long drag of his cig before answering. “They’re perfect to take the fall for the missing girls.”
Monster threw an uncomfortable glance at Skittles. This wasn’t part of the plan.
Felix coughed and followed it with a vicious laugh. “Kidding me? These fuckers are too chicken shit to let the Dogs take the blame.”
Skittles frowned hard, considering it. Monster’s gut churned with the idea. Bastian would hunt down whoever he thought was responsible for the missing Dolls. He’d destroy the Junkyard Dogs. And maybe they deserved it, maybe they didn’t. Either way, it wasn’t the right thing to do. Not the noble thing as Malcom had talked about.
And Monster found himself wanting to be noble. He wanted to be good enough so Vegas wouldn’t fear him.
But if he’d cross his clan to save Vegas, he’d cross the pack in a heartbeat.
Anything for her.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Ratchet spoke up.
Monster swung his gaze around to the only one of them that had any kind of power to wield. He hadn’t expected Ratchet to agree with Felix.
Felix looked just as surprised. “You do?”
Ratchet nodded. “You’ve been without your animals for too long. You’ve forgotten one important factor.”
“What’s that?”
“The Dogs a
ren’t helpless. They have wolves inside. And Bastian, powerful as he is… is very fucking human.”
Skittles nodded his agreement, eager as Monster was to get his girl free. And Ratchet was right. There was no reason they shouldn’t act now. The Dogs could fend for themselves, and maybe even finish Bastian off for them. Do Memphis one hell of a favor.
Finally, Felix sighed. “For revenge on the Junkyard fucking Dogs… count me in.”
Chapter Six
Vegas was aware someone was pushing at her shoulder. The touch was gentle, but she couldn’t find the will to open her eyes.
“Please,” a timid voice pleaded. “You need to eat.”
The voice sounded like Skye’s.
“Try the water again.” Nyla’s smoother tone hit Vegas’s ears and then something wet touched her lips. The wetness was cool but not in a way that scared her. It was something she craved. Something that wanted to bring her out of this blackness she couldn’t wake from.
“It’s working,” Nyla whispered. “More.”
And like magic, more of the wetness touched her mouth, trickling down her parched throat and making her feel like she’d died and gone to heaven. Literally.
Fear jolted her.
Maybe she had.
The last thing she remembered was Bastian’s threats. Her telling him no. Had she missed the entire night? Did Monster break his promise and dump her in the river? Maybe she couldn’t remember because memories of death weren’t something you took with you to the afterlife.
The pressure on her shoulder started again, and Skye’s voice. “Wake up. Come on, One. You can do it. Open your eyes.”
Vegas tried. But the light beyond them was too bright. She groaned instead.
“She’s coming to.”
Coming to what?
“Get the bed. He said make sure the bed was close.”
He who?
Again, Vegas drank what was put to her lips and tried to open her eyes.
Blinding slivers of light flooded in, and in the moments it took her sight to adjust, she realized she wasn’t dead. She was only back in the basement.
Reality made tears prick her eyes and she closed them again.
“You blacked out in Bastian’s office,” Nyla explained. “The guard brought you back.”
Her voice, usually so solid, calm, was shaking. She was the smartest of them all. Used her brains when it was easier to lose your mind. She was the voice of reason to combat the madness they endured.
Because of Nyla, Marlee’s escape was successful.
She was a rock.
Now, she sounded… off.
“One, what happened in there?” Skye’s hands shook as she brought the water to Vegas’s lips again, letting her drink.
“He… is gonna… kill me,” Vegas managed after another swallow.
Both Dolls were silent, and she forced her eyes open.
“If I don’t make more product… he’s gonna kill me.”
Tears welled in Skye’s eyes, rolling over her lids and messing up her makeup.
Makeup.
Vegas noticed her hair and face were done up to perfection but she wore the same old rags she always did in the basement. Because the pretty dresses Skye got to wear sometimes were only borrowed for a few hours.
“Did you have a date tonight?”
Skye stiffened at the word, but answered, “Yes.”
Vegas hadn’t meant to use it. Date. It wasn’t the right word for where Skye went when she left the basement.
“You have to cook for him,” Nyla ground out, interrupting Vegas’s regret.
“No.”
“Bastian said you could have our leftovers tonight,” Skye added. “I ate while I was out but Seven saved most of hers for you. And you can have all my water tonight. Okay? Get your strength up so you can do what he wants. Okay? Okay?”
Food. God, it sounded like all her hopes and dreams when really she knew it was just stale bread and some flavorless mystery meat. Some crackers if she was lucky.
“No,” Vegas said again.
She rolled onto her side, getting to her hands and knees, and crawled under the bed. She was cold and her body ached, but the darkness that the mattress hovering over her offered was what she needed to breathe normal. It was her safety.
Sad, but true.
Skye and Nyla laid on the floor beside the bed, the tops of their heads almost touching so they could both see under.
“Where’s Twenty?” Janet, Vegas reminded herself. She always spoke their number out loud, and their name inside her head.
Skye looked sad. “She was needed.”
Needed. It meant she was working. But Skye never used that word either. Working.
Nyla slid the round slice of bread under the bed, easing it closer to Vegas like she was trying to urge a frightened puppy to eat.
“I can’t,” Vegas said. “I can’t do it anymore. I won’t.”
“You have to eat,” Nyla whispered.
“Not if it means he controls me.”
Sad silence filled the space between them and Vegas closed her eyes to sleep again. She just wanted peace until the morning when her fight would be over. All this would be over.
Monster’s words echoed through her mind. I swear to never hurt you, and to never let you be hurt. On my life, I swear it.
But he couldn’t mean it, could he? What power did he have against Bastian? And why would he do that for her anyway?
Marlee, he’d said. It was the only reason he gave, but what did it mean?
Was that how he knew her name?
Did Marlee tell him? Had she been caught? Was she in even more danger?
Except the way he’d acted in the tunnel… like he cared. Really cared. Vegas didn’t understand it. How he went from a monster to something else in the blink of an eye.
In the closing of a door, she realized.
The basement door. Where there were no cameras. Things had changed when they were no longer under the watchful eye of the camera.
“What if…” Skye began in a barely-there whisper that had Vegas’s eyes opening again. It was the sort of quiet they used when they wanted to talk under the radar. So low you had to half-read the person’s lips. “What if another he wanted you to eat?”
Vegas frowned, not following.
“Would that make a difference?” Skye mouthed.
“What if there was another reason for eating? Like… gaining your strength for something big,” Nyla asked in the same hushed tone.
“What do you mean?”
Nyla and Skye exchanged unsure glances.
“I don’t know exactly,” Nyla admitted. “But something feels off with the guard.”
“He looks at you different,” Skye whispered. “And he used your name earlier. How did he know your name?”
“Maybe Bastian told him?” She didn’t want to tell them Monster might have caught Marlee. That maybe she had told him.
Nyla shook her head. “No. He would never. Only numbers. You know he likes to forget we are people.”
“The guard,” Skye continued, “I think… I think he likes you. I think he wants to help.”
Vegas’s throat closed up as she almost hissed her disagreement. Didn’t they hear how he’d screamed at her? Threatened her. Didn’t they see the cruel way he snarled?
In front of the cameras though.
Vegas swallowed hard as she remembered the way he’d crowded her in the hallway, finding her gaze and locking on like it was the most important connection he would ever make with a person. For a moment, his scarred face had lost its cruel mask. His words had felt like a brand. Like a vow. His eyes had dug into her, going past the surface until she felt everything right in her center. Warm and new. For just a moment, before cold reality had slipped back in.
“How can he help?” Vegas mouthed, feeling new tears gather in her eyes. “How can anyone help?”
Nyla sighed and eased the bread even closer. “I don’t know. But don’t you want to be read
y to find out?”
“He’s supposed to kill me. Dump me in the river, Bastian said.”
“He told us to make you eat,” Nyla argued. “That you’d need your strength. Does that sound like someone who plans to kill you?”
Skye’s lip trembled. “He carried you in here so carefully. Like you were fragile. And laid you on the floor because you don’t like the bed.”
Monster did that?
Vegas stared at the piece of bread.
He wanted her to eat. They wanted her to eat. Her stomach begged for it. Her mind was terrified of what the future held. For herself, for them all.
But if this was to be her last meal, why not let it happen like this. On the floor where she felt safest, with her friends blocking out the gray light of the lamp. Where she could breathe.
Slowly, she reached for the bread, pulling it into her grasp and bringing it to her mouth. She bit off a piece and tried to chew slowly, sipping the water Skye shared with her. Then she let Nyla spoon the meat into her mouth, ignoring that she was too weak to do it herself.
When she was almost finished, the lock on the door beeped and clicked loudly to disengage. The weighty door swung open and Janet rushed in, hurrying past them to the tiny alcove that housed the toilet. The sound of her vomiting made Vegas squeeze her eyes closed, desperate to keep her own meal down.
But heavy footsteps vibrated against the floor by her ear and she opened to find a familiar set of boots just beyond the end of the bed.
Her heart rattled in her chest trying to keep up with her fear. So much fear.
Was it morning already? Was it time?
Was this the end?
Chapter Seven
Monster eased to a crouch near the ratty bed his girl liked to hide under. In the corner, one of the dolls vomited behind the thin wall that served as the basement bathroom. He cringed, fist clenching in the messy blankets that topped the mattress. The other two dolls had already moved away from the bed but their eyes watched him warily.
No doubt Vegas had told them of Bastian’s threat.
But Monster was here for a different reason now.
He drew in a deep breath. The stale air didn’t help much. His nerves were frayed. Everything needed to go just right if they were all to get out of here alive. And so far, they’d already hit a few speed bumps.
