Cursed Angels

“You can teach me again,” I say with optimism. She knows my confidence is false because every time I learn who she is, I’ll forget until this chip is removed from my head.

“I’ll make you remember even if we have to fuck you every time.” She looks to Hunter. “Won’t we?”

He bows his head.

“Sure thing, Buttercup. I love to be inside you.” He smiles at her, but I can’t help noticing the corners of his mouth don’t quite reach to where they should if it was a natural reaction.

“I won’t be long.” Samara takes my hand and squeezes it before leaving the room.

Hunter steps up behind me and places the other cuff around my wrist. He threads the chain through the middle and then starts to drag me toward a doorway. He kicks it open, and I notice it leads down some stairs.

“Time to cut the bullshit. How dangerous will you be?” We stand at the top of the stairs. Man to man, toe to toe. Same height and muscular structure. Only one difference. In about two minutes, I won’t have a conscience.

“Deadly,” I reply and check the chains. “Get more. They won’t hold me for long.”

Hunter switches a light on and leads me down into a moldy basement I hadn’t known of before. On the wall are several hooks. They look well embedded, but he still checks for the strongest one. He threads the chain through and secures it, so I’m trapped.

“I must have had a sixth sense I’d need these things. Never know when a monster will come to visit.”

I let a rumbling growl reverberate around the cold room.

“I wouldn’t antagonize me if I were you. We can’t stand each other, but we both want what’s best for Mara. Right now, she needs us both. When I forget, I’m at my strongest. I have no fear of consequences. I’ve killed more people than you’ve probably fucked.” I chuckle, and it’s Hunter’s turn to look pissed off. “I’m weaker on my left side. I’ve had issues with my ribs since they were broken in a fight once. I won’t remember though. Go for there if I escape.”

“Escape?” Hunter laughs. “These chains are pretty strong.”

“No consequences, no fear of pain. I’ll snap my own fucking wrist in half if it means I can escape.”

“Shit. They totally fucked you up.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m the prototype. Everything you need to know is on the memory stick I gave Mara. Use it. Get this fucking thing out of my head—”

“Why would I want to do that?” he interrupts.

“Because you know where her heart lies,” I reply bluntly. I see him suck in a sharp breath.

“What if we can’t?”

I look toward his belt where a gun rests.

“Then put a bullet in my brain, and stop it that way. Whatever you do, don’t let me hurt her again.” The pain comes hard and fast. I know that it’s time. “Get back,” I warn just before I keel over and black out momentarily.

I wake up to feel cold, hard metal around my wrists. I pull on the chains, but there is no give. “Asshole.” I raise my head to see Hunter Shaw looking at me. His gun is drawn but not pointing at me. “I don’t know how you managed to capture me, but I suggest you let me go.”

“Not happening.” He steps forward and brings the gun up, level with the center of my forehead. “Who’s Samara?”

I chuckle, a laugh so evil even the air in the putrid basement would cower from me if it had a form. “A motherfucking dead woman when I get my hands on her.”

The gun clicks.

Chapter 19

Samara

My body aches everywhere. I can’t believe what just happened, but we got through to Archer. That’s the main thing. Whatever they did to him, I know we can fix it. We can heal him and finally take down The Factory.

It’s been far too long, and I want closure. I need to move on from my past, but I know I’ll never be able to do that if they’re still alive. If they’re still hurting innocents. Stepping out of the shower, I towel myself off, finding the blue and purple bruises from training, fighting, and taking down people who didn’t deserve to live.

The hot water was therapeutic, warm and calming, but even though my body is relaxed, the rest of me isn’t. My heart and mind are with Archer and Hunter. No amount of showers, no downtime, can ever make up for what we’ve all been through, but no amount of promises and apologies can stop me from loving him.

Hunter’s right. He may leave me again, but I can’t live with the guilt of walking away. If I take time to really help him, I believe I can heal him. I know I can.