Captive Souls Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Suspense Tags Authors: Anne Malcom Advertisement1

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Stone bobbed his head in response.

“Which may serve as more evidence as to why security is so important to me. Recent events made that all the clearer. And the violence your men didn’t hesitate to inflict upon me.” I raised my hand to my eye. “Along with their casual references to gang rape and attempted rape.”

I could feel white-hot ire radiating from where Knox stood, inches from me. The need to reach out to touch him was so overwhelming it hurt.

But I kept my attention on Stone. “I’ll have to request that there be no more violence against me and my sister, nor threats of sexual abuse.” I said this all blandly, as if the existence of such things didn’t fill my belly with immeasurable feminine fury.

Stone watched me carefully. “As my wife, no one would lay a hand on you. But me, of course.”

His gaze went to Knox, taunting.

I didn’t follow it. My nails cut into my palms from the force it was taking to remain calm. “Of course,” I purred in a way that I hoped was convincing.

The air between Stone and I was electric as he dissected my gaze, looking for falsehoods. I hoped my acting skills were good enough.

“And I have another request,” I broke the silence, my voice sharper this time. “That you let Knox go. Unharmed. And with no one following him or killing him once I’m out of sight.”

Stone’s brow lifted, clearly amused but not convinced. “You think that I’d let him continue to breathe after betraying me?” His tone was eerily civil.

“You’ll have to ensure you do a good job of killing me,” Knox spoke for the first time since I’d walked in, voice coated in furor. I gave myself permission to sneak a glance at him, finding his stare on Stone to be unyielding, free of any kind of defeat. “Because if there is an ounce of breath left in my body, I’ll be coming back. For you. For her.”

I flinched at the sheer reverence in his words. His vow was full to the brim with the enormity of his feelings for me, his devotion to me, that it kneecapped me. I struggled to stay standing, to keep the sob in my chest from escaping.

“He did his job, even if it wasn’t the way you intended,” I told Stone, taking every ounce of strength that Knox had shown me I possessed in order to keep up the façade. “He broke me. He brought me here. To you. Willing. To marry you.”

When Stone looked from Knox to me, I didn’t wither under his glare, despite how uncomfortable it made me. Despite how much agony I was in.

I felt it. Knox’s life hanging in the balance. The need Stone had to punish him. To show me that no one was coming to save me.

“He has said himself that he’ll come for you if I leave him breathing,” Stone pointed out. Though I could hear acquiesce in his tone. It might’ve been working. I thought I could maybe save Knox. If I was willing to abandon my humanity.

I drew in a deep breath.

This was it. This was the part that required every ounce, every shred of my strength, scraped from my insides, from my organs. It tore at my soul as I finally looked at Knox.

I might’ve jolted at his expression, it was so utterly determined. His eyes were blazing, nostrils flaring, mouth parted.

Utterly devoted.

To me.

But I couldn’t flinch. Couldn’t break. I was there to save us, after all, even if it ensured there would never be an ‘us’ again. Even if I broke him in a way he didn’t deserve.

“He will only come for me if he thinks I want him,” I told Stone, my voice detached, foreign. I took a measured breath, forcing myself to look Knox up and down with distaste I couldn’t feel. Not ever. Not in a million years.

Outwardly, I looked as if I found him lacking—at least that’s what I hoped I looked like. Inwardly, I was committing every piece of his beauty to memory. Preserving him as perfection inside me, where I could treasure him long after the dust settled from the ruins.

“I don’t,” I declared when I found his eyes. “Want you. I don’t want you.”

Again, my voice was impressively strong. Mean. Cold.

“You are … wrong,” I continued, my heart shredding into countless pieces, pain spearing every inch of my soul as I forced revulsion I didn’t feel into my tone. “You are … ruined. It’s not your fault, I know.” Sickly sweet, poisonous pity seeped from my words.

Pitying him. In front of an audience, no less. It was the worst thing I could’ve done to him. The most hurtful thing. To imply that his damage and his trauma made him weak. Like it didn’t make him the strongest, most complicated, multifaceted, extraordinary man I’d ever had the honor of knowing. Loving.


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