My eyes flitted to the man beside me.

Growl. He steered the car with one hand, looking relaxed, almost at peace.

How could anyone look at peace after what had happened? After what he’d done?

His clothes were covered in blood, and so were his hands. So much blood. Revulsion crippled me.

A few weeks ago my bodyguards, who’d betrayed my family, would have quickly ushered me away from a man like him. My mother had practically dragged me away from him at Falcone’s party.

And now I was at his mercy.

He was a brutal, violent hand of Falcone’s will.

My whirring thoughts halted when he turned to me.

His eyes were empty, a mirror to throw my own fear back at me. His arms were covered with martial tattoos, knives and thorns and guns.

I couldn’t stop looking at him, even though I wanted to. I needed to, but I was frozen. Eventually he returned his attention back to the street. I shivered, and let my head fall forward until my forehead came to rest against the cool window. There was a low buzz in my head. I couldn’t think straight. Get a grip.

I needed to figure out a way out of this.

But we were already slowing down as we turned into a shabby residential area. The paint had peeled off of most of the house fronts, and garbage littered the front yards. Cars missing tires and with broken windows were parked in a few driveways. They wouldn’t be driving anywhere. This was the end for them, and for me.

Growl stopped the car in front of a garage which was freshly painted, and then he climbed out. Before I could come up with a plan, he was at my side and opened the door. He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me out. My legs could hardly support my weight, but he didn’t seem to care. He led me around the car, over cracked pavement and an overgrown front lawn. A group of teenagers were clustered together two houses down, listening to music and smoking, and across the street a woman with a tattered tank top and tattoos snaking up her arms took out the garbage, looking like she would be giving birth any second.

I opened my mouth to call for help.

Growl released a harsh breath. “Do it. Scream. They won’t help you. They have their own problems.”

I hesitated. The teenagers and the woman were actually looking at us, watching how Growl was dragging me toward his house, and they didn’t even blink. Even the blood on Growl didn’t seem to shock them. There was resignation in their expressions; it seemed to seep from their pores. They didn’t have the energy to take care of themselves, to take control of their own lives, to fight for their futures, much less for mine.

I pleaded with my eyes anyway, hoping. Still hoping after everything. The woman was the first to look away and walk back into her own house, and moments later the teenagers returned to whatever they’d been doing.

Those people didn’t care what was happening to me. They wouldn’t help me.

We arrived in front of a door. The paint had peeled off, revealing sun-bleached wood. Growl opened it. It hadn’t been locked. My eyes darted toward the group of teenage boys again. They didn’t look like they’d pass up an opportunity to break into a house that wasn’t even locked.

I peered up at my captor, at the scar running the length of his throat, the blood on his shirt and hands, the hard lines of his face.

Growl met my gaze head-on, and my legs almost buckled under the darkness in his amber eyes. He didn’t say anything.

“Even in this area nobody dares to cross you,” I whispered.

“That’s true. But that’s not why I don’t have to lock my door. Most of the people in the area are junkies and have nothing to lose.” Growl pulled me into his home and closed the door. The inside of the house was even worse than its exterior. The AC was running at the maximum, turning the small corridor where we stood into a freezer.

I shivered violently but Growl seemed immune to the cold. There were no pictures on the walls, no decoration at all. This house was a lonely, dark place. All the doors were closed, but behind one of them I heard sounds I couldn’t place. Like tapping. Did he have another woman locked in one of them?

Tears pressed against my eyes. This was it. Everything was over.

Had the fight already drained out of me?

He dragged me into a room. His bedroom? The only pieces of furniture were a bed and a wardrobe, but what the room lacked in furniture, it made up for with wall decorations. Daggers and knives mocked me from every direction. Growl released me and I stumbled forward. I dropped to my knees. The only other option would have been to fall onto the bed, and I wasn’t going anywhere near that thing. I quickly turned, throat tight with fear as Growl watched me from the doorway. He looked like he’d risen from hell: a man wrapped in darkness, death and blood. A monster.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

“I’ll be back,” he murmured before he turned and closed the door.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Cara

I’ll be back.

I didn’t hear a lock. Was he so sure of himself that he didn’t think he needed it? His steps moved away until I couldn’t hear them anymore. What was he doing?

I’ll be back.

That had sounded like a threat. My eyes found the bed and I quickly got up. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what he was going to do once he returned. How was I going to get out of this?

I tried to stifle my panic, but my heart didn’t stop racing and my hands were damp with sweat. The blades flashed in the corner of my eye. I knew I wasn’t a fighter, and I didn’t know how to handle a knife or any other weapon. I’d never had to hurt somebody. I wasn’t sure if I was capable of it.

I approached one of the daggers. It was the least flashy one, no curved or zig-zagged blade. It was the one that scared me the least. I reached out and curled my fingers around the handle. It didn’t feel wrong like I’d expected, but I didn’t kid myself into thinking I could do more with it than hold it. I took it off the wall. It weighed more than I’d expected, and somehow I was relieved to have something substantial to hold on to.

My eyes flitted around the room. Adrenaline had mostly banished my terror for now. I hurried toward the window but there were bars in front of it. A bubble of hysteric laughter bubbled up my throat, but I swallowed it. No sense in going crazy—yet. The windows were covered in a layer of dust, giving the illusion that the outside world was even farther away. Not that the outside of the house was any more enticing than the inside. This was a hopeless place altogether.

I backed away from the window and clutched the knife tighter. This was my only chance. It might as well have not been one at all. Steps rang out, and for a moment I was frozen with indecision and fear. Maybe things would only get worse if I attacked Growl, but I wasn’t sure how that was possible. There was no light in his eyes, no mercy or kindness, nothing I could cling to and hope for an acceptable fate. Maybe there was little hope of me succeeding, but…

My eyes darted to the bed, only queen-sized, which was strange for a man of Growl’s size. The blankets were dark red, probably to hide bloodstains. I shuddered as images bloomed in my mind, one more horrible than the next.

I sprang into motion, fear now greater than indecision, and hid behind the door. I needed to catch Growl by surprise if I wanted any chance at injuring him. But would that be enough? I had a feeling that Growl was like a bull in the corrida. A few wounds wouldn’t bring him down. An image of Growl with several knives buried in his chest, still coming after me, flitted through my mind. I needed to aim to kill.