Page 76 of For Fillies and Monsters

“You mean steal,” my brother states, his gaze never wavering from my face.

“What?”

“Steal. Stalk. Swindle. Don’t lie to yourself and think you aremakinga happy life.” McCrae’s eyes flash angrily—icy blue flames. “You’ve stalked that girl for ten years. Ten, Augustus. Do you think she would want you if you hadn’t made yourself her only option? You are forcing her. How does that make you any better than me?”

I’ll give it to my brother. He always did know how to deliver a well-timed blow—the killing blow.

I take a step back, needing to clear my head from the insecurities he just threw in the air between us. McCrae doesn’t understand Stetson and I’s connection, and that is perfectly fine by me. How can he?

He is dead inside. How can he understand what love even feels like?

“I’m nothing like you,” I argue, my words shakier than I’d like. “I know what love is.”

McCrae huffs a menacing laugh. “Not all of us have that luxury, little brother.”

I roll my eyes. It’s always been the same with McCrae, the same story to justify his torture. The difference between me and him is that McCrae wouldn’t want love even if it was offered to him on a golden platter. He hates the idea of it, detests what it stands for, and how it makes people act—how it makes people weak. Because McCrae has no weaknesses. He likes to act like the world fucked him, and in some ways, it had. But I know McCrae also likes the world of depravity and darkness—he likes beingfucked.

No, it is his choice, and I will not feel sorry for him.

“Some things never change,” I hiss, angry that I’m too much of a coward to say more. He looks at me, something akin to thoughtfulness crossing his features before it’s quickly burned away.

“And some things do. But one thing that hasn’t is the fact that I’m right and you will listen to what I’m telling you.”

“Message delivered. Now leave,” I state dryly, turning around.

“Hey!” McCrae barks, and I hesitantly face him, his dark eyebrows raised at me. “This isn’t a fucking joke. And it isn’t because I have some twisted need to make your life miserable—you do just fine with that on your own. This is a job,my job. And my job is to tell you to back. The fuck.Off.”

His job? What kind of fucking job is that?

As far as I’ve ever known, my brother didn’t have a steady job. We lived off my winnings for years, and sometimes, he’d enter back alley fights if we were hard-pressed. But McCrae isn’t stable enough for a job; we moved too much.

“What job?”

McCrae pounces up the stairs, gripping my shirt between tattooed fists. His lips pull back in a snarl, eyes blazing. It isn’t anger I see burning there, though,but fear.

McCrae isn’t afraid of anything.

“If you don’t leave them alone, leave this job, this town, I will come back and tell her everything. You think you were so sneaky hunting her. But every time you did, I hunted you. And I will show her everything.” With that, McCrae shoves me back and stalks toward his bike, leaving me even more desperate than I was before.

THIRTY-THREE

STETSON

May 27th, 2024

“What time isthis guy supposed to be showing up?”

I shrug, brushing Gus’s question off. If I don’t talk to him, then maybe he, and all the complications he brings, won’t exist. That’s at least the method I’m currently embracing.

Standing on the deck, squinting my eyes into the morning sun, I desperately will Dale and her friend to appear. They said nine a.m., and I was sure to come downstairs at eight fifty-nine. I know Gus noticed.

Fuck him and his complicated, toxic,sexy as fuckself.

I’m focusing on saving my ranch; a task I’ve been annoyingly distracted from for weeks now. But I have my focus back, and I’m not giving it up for the possibility of what would, no doubt, be the best sex of my life. Because that’s all it would be with Gus. Eventually, he will leave, as everyone does, and I refuse to be just another buckle bunny he conquered. I have more value than that.

“The silent treatment is surprisingly not as hot as I expected it to be. Lord knows when we first met I wished for nothing but silence from your insistent nosiness, and I imagined all kinds of ways to silence you.” He shuffles behind me, shifting closer. Ishiver like the weak pussy-driven bitch I am, but I don’t turn to face him. I won’t admit it—even if it kills me. “My favorite idea was using a leather cinch to gag you, maybe even Winston’s sweaty one, just for fun.”

I inhale sharply through my nose, his minty leather scent filling my nostrils. Closing my eyes, I try to hold my breath, counting. But I cave way too quickly, sucking in another intoxicating whiff of him. Leather and musk—all man—all Gus.

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