Page 4 of For Fillies and Monsters

She drops her eyes and I think she’s about to ignore my question, but then whispers, “A bruise.”

Two little words, and just like that, someone is going to die tonight.

“Who the fuck did that to you?” I step toward her again, uncaring that I sound like a lunatic. She doesn’t know me, but that won’t stop me from killing the fucker who thought they could lay their hands on her.

I don’t even know her fucking name, and here I am, ready to murder for her. Die for her.

What the fuck is happening to me?

But I can’t stop the boiling, insane rage inside of myself—consuming me. The thought of someone laying hands on her. My,her. Because that’s what she is, has been from the second I laid eyes on her.

I shake my head. No, it’s been longer than that. From the moment Fate began spinning our stories, we were destined to cross each other, to find each other. She has been mine from the beginning of time, and I hers. That’s the only explanation I have.

There’s no rhyme or reasoning to it, no proof that she was made for me. But it is a fact, just like the fact that I need air to breathe, and horses to ride.

“He does it often. It’s not a big deal. No one notices.” She says the words, her previous anger sputtering out like a doused flame. I hate seeing her like this—defeated by the thought that no one cares what happens to her.I care, even if it makes no sense.

“Tell me who it is, and I will kill them,” I hiss, meaning every word. She laughs at that, lifting her eyes to mine. They are clear, no tears or fear swirling in them, like I expect to see; only sadness and steely resolve.

“No. Thanks, though.” She steps back, over and over, until she’s well out of my grasp. I can barely breathe, the oxygen in my lungs arrested by the mysterious, sad girl standing beforeme. It’s like I’ve been plunged into water with a live wire pulsing in it; full of pain and fear, and yet unable to move.

I watch her continue to retreat, this simple, innocent conversation feeling like both the beginning and the end for me. I know if I take a single step toward her, I will not be able to stop myself from grabbing her and stealing her from this place—from this life.

Her eyes remain locked on my face, a sad smile spreading over her pale skin.

I keep my hands at my sides, clenched in steely fists. The muscles in my arms quiver beneath the fabric of my shirt. I know it looks terrifying when I’m mad, but I’m more than mad. I’m furious. But she doesn’t look the least bit scared of me. She sees me and does not cower the way the world does.

Pulling her braid back over her shoulder, she pauses. I have to do something—say something—before she’s gone. I know what a scared animal looks like before they run for their lives.

“What, what’s your name?”Is my voice really trembling?

She only shakes her head, that small smile slipping from her face. “Maybe next time.”

“Why did you stop me, then?”

“I saw you,” she lifts her chin at me, pointing, “at the stock show. You were really good.” She whips around then, turning the corner of the street into the night.

I stand there, only for a moment, before jogging after her. I have to watch where she goes; I have to get her out. Or at the very least, kill whoever is hurting her. She deserves someone who will protect her; even if that someone is a fucked up cowboy with no life to offer her beyond one free of the violence she is currently suffering.

She is perfect in every way. I don’t care who she is or what has happened to her in this life. And I will make her mine inevery way possible. Maybe not today, but before this life is over, she will be mine completely.

I strain my eyes as I round the corner following her footsteps, unable to see much, but I don’t miss the red flash of tail lights bouncing down the road in the distance.

I clench and unclench my fists, my teeth grinding so painfully that my jaw pops. An owl coos in the distance, and I fight every instinct telling me to yell and run after those fading tail lights. She is in danger and genuinely thinks no one notices or cares. And maybe they didn’t, hadn’t until now. But that has changed.

I care. I care more than is rationally possible.

I continue to stand there, the red taillights becoming nothing more than darkness, before I turn around to head toward the bar. I know I can find my brother and take the truck. I can go after her. But in this town, in this darkness, I don’t have a clue where to start. I’ll just have to wait for her no matter how long it takes; tomorrow, a week from now, or years.

But I will find her.

ONE

STETSON

March 7th, 2024

I have always attracted trouble.Drowned in it. Been suffocated by it. Trouble is my closest lover, and no matter how hard I’ve tried, it’s always had a chokehold on me.

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