Growl Growl’s mind raced as he dragged Cara toward his car. He had often thought about the first time he had seen her at Falcone’s party. He had regretted attending the party, especially since her image had haunted his sleep in the weeks that followed.
He had felt like a monkey in a suit, and he knew he looked the same way. He knew that his boss had invited him just so that people would have something to talk about. Even after all those years they still considered him the monster to be feared.
He was a monster, there was no doubt about that. But he was not the only monster in that room. He wasn’t even sure he was the worst. He had killed more people with his own hands, he couldn’t deny that. And he didn’t want to. He was proud of what he had done. Most of it, at least. That was the one thing he was good at, killing. He was the best at it. And maybe his talent for killing made him one of the worst monsters, but he knew how easily the order to kill and maim came out of the tongues of many of the men gathered at that dance, how pleased they were with their power to do so. He wasn’t sure that didn’t make them just as bad. But it was still not for him to decide. Perhaps one day all of them, Growl included, would face a higher power. That day would not end well for either of them.
Growl was not too worried, however. He had lived through hell; he was still living it. There was nothing for him to fear. Nothing that awaited him beyond death could have caused worse damage than what had already been done. There was nothing about him that was not broken, nothing to destroy, except perhaps his body, but he was not worried about that either. He knew pain, even agony. It was the one constant in his life. He had almost come to consider it a friend. Something he could count on, something predictable.
No, he was not afraid of pain, or death, for that matter.
Falcone always said that made him such a valuable resource.
And that was something Growl was proud of, even if the words that came out of Falcone’s mouth left a bitter aftertaste.
They took him for a fool, thought of him as just a stupid little lap dog who did their business without the slightest idea of what they were doing. Like one of the many fighting dogs that Falcone and many other men kept for fun.
But many people had made the same mistake: they had mistaken silence for stupidity, equated lack of words with lack of understanding and knowledge. It was a mistake they might one day pay for. He knew most of their deepest and darkest secrets, simply because they did not keep their mouths shut when he was around. They thought he was not listening to them, and even if he did, how could he ever understand what they were saying?
He despised them, but they paid him well and respected him for his strength and brutality; that was enough for him.
He was not going to use his knowledge. He didn’t need much: money to buy food for his dogs and himself, and for women and a drink now and then. He liked his simple life.
He did not want complications. He cast his eyes on the girl huddled in the passenger seat. He hoped she would not turn out to be a complication. He could hardly return her. Falcone would not have liked that.
Not that Growl had any intention of returning her.
It was his most prized possession up to that point. She was looking out the window, ignoring him. As he had done at the party. As they had all done until they could no longer ignore him . Did she still think she was superior to him? He returned his gaze to the road. It didn’t matter. It was his now.
The idea caused him a twinge of pride and his groin twitched in anticipation.
CARA I could barely breathe. Because of the fear and the smell. God, the stench was worse than anything I had ever smelled before. Blood. Metallic and sweet, overpowering. I could still see the pool of blood widening beneath Dad’s lifeless body, I could see Mom kneeling amid the red liquid and her eyes wide with Thalian horror. Every moment of that night seemed seared into my mind.
My eyes darted to the man beside me.
Growl. He was driving the car with one hand, looking relaxed, almost at peace.
How could anyone look at peace after what had happened? After what he had done?
His clothes were covered in blood, as were his hands.
So much blood. Revulsion paralyzed me.
A few weeks earlier my bodyguards would have quickly turned 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 and violent hand of Falcone’s will. He turned toward me.
His eyes were blank, a mirror to hurl my own fear at me. His arms and chest were covered with martial tattoos, knives, thorns, and guns.
I could not stop looking at him, even though I wanted to . I needed to, but I was paralyzed. Finally he brought his attention back to the road. I shuddered and let my head fall forward until my forehead rested against the cold window. There was a low hum in my head. I couldn’t think straight. Recovering myself.
I had to find a way out.
But we were already slowing down as we turned into a dingy residential area. The paint had peeled off most of the facades and the front yards were full of trash. In some driveways were parked cars with no tires and broken windows . They were not going anywhere.
Growl stopped the car in front of a garage, which had just been painted, then got out. Before I could work out a plan, he was at my side and opened the door. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out. My legs could barely support me, but he didn’t seem to care. He led me around the car, onto a cracked sidewalk and a fallow front lawn. A group of teenagers were huddled together two houses away, listening to music and smoking, and across the street a woman with a stained tank top and tattoos snaking up her arms was taking out the trash, looking like she was about to give birth any minute.
I opened my mouth to call for help.
Growl let out a gasp. “Do it. Scream.
They won’t help you. They have their own problems.”
I hesitated. The teenagers and the woman were actually watching us, observing how Growl was dragging me toward his house, and they didn’t even blink. Not even the blood on Growl seemed to upset them. There was resignation in their expressions, it seemed to ooze from their pores.
They didn’t have the energy to take care of themselves, to take control of their lives, to fight for their future, let alone mine. I pleaded with their eyes anyway, hoping.
I was still hoping after all. The woman was the first to look away and go back into her house, a few moments later the teenagers went back to what they were doing.
Those people didn’t care what was happening to me.
They were not going to help me.
We arrived in front of a door. The paint had peeled off, revealing sun-bleached wood. Growl opened the door.
It was unlocked. My eyes darted back to the group of teenage boys. They did not seem to miss the ‘opportunity to enter a house that was not even locked.
I looked up at my captor, at the scar running down his throat, at the blood on his shirt and hands, at the hard features of his face.
Growl met my gaze and my legs almost gave way under the darkness of his amber eyes. He said nothing.
“Even in this area no one dares to cross you,” I whispered .
“That’s true. But that’s not why I don’t have to lock the door. Most of the people in the area are drugged and have nothing to lose.” Growl pulled me inside his house and closed the door. The inside of the house was even worse than the inside . The air conditioning was on full blast, turning the small hallway we were in into a freezer.
I shivered violently but Growl seemed immune to the cold. There were no pictures on the walls, no decorations . This house was a lonely, dark place. All the doors were closed but behind one of them I heard sounds I could not identify. Like knocks. Had he locked another woman in one of them?
Ears pressed against my eyes. It was over. It was all over.
Had the struggle already exhausted itself?
He dragged me into a room. His bedroom? The only furniture was a bed and a closet, but what the room lacked in furniture, it made up for with wall decorations.
Daggers and knives teased me from every direction. Growl released me and I staggered forward. I fell to my knees.
The only other option would have been to fall on the bed, and I would not go near that thing. I quickly turned around, my throat tight with fear as Growl watched me from the doorway. He looked as if he had risen from hell; a man shrouded in darkness, death, and blood. A monster.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
“I’ll be back,” he muttered before turning and closing the door.