Page 8 of Make You Beg

“O—kay.”

Mom giggles. “I’m sure you’ll get along. Let’s go meet them, hurry up.”

She doesn’t wait for me before rushing to the door.

I trace behind her, unable to keep my eyes away from the table, from Kayden.

Only one thought runs through my mind. I have a gut feeling about this guy.

He’s going to ruin my life.

2

KAYDEN

17 YEARS OLD

I’ve always been drawn to fragile things.

Not in a good way. It’s not that I want to protect them, shield them from harm. Quite the opposite. When I see something weak, it wakes up an animalistic instinct in me.

I want to wrap my hand around their pathetic little neck and snap it. Make them break.

Whenever I see a withered flower, I want to smash it, destroy it, set it on fire. Vanish it from existence.

Watch it burn.

There’s no room for weakness in this world, so why should they cohabit with us?

Only the strong survive.

That’s what Father says. That’s what I’ve been told all my life.

Man up. Toughen up, Kayden. You can’t cry. You can’t feel. That’s not how a real man acts.

We take, we break, we thrive.

We stand strong.

If you’re weak, you die.

“Behave,” he tells me now. “Don’t fuck things up.”

I expect him to add a ‘like you always do’ to that, but he doesn’t.

“Can I at least know what we’re doing here?”

He’s never taken me to a business meeting. He doesn’t have them often, since he works remotely.

And I’m sure as hell he isn’t treating me to a fancy meal.

“We’re meeting someone.”

No kidding. I attempt to compose myself instead of scoffing.

“A woman?”

My father clears his throat and glares at me.