Their Kitten: A Dark MFM Romance

This feels wrong.

I know why Tristan is doing this, but he’s crossing into dangerous territory. There are a few instances where I think Kitten is going to pass out, only for the pain to rip her back to her Hell. She’s strong, I’ll give her that. Despite everything we’ve done to her, she hasn’t cracked, and there’s no sign that will.

Her plan of forcing us to run out of time without knowing her name may work.

I bend down to the girl, her face buried in the comforter, which muffles her sobs and moans.

“Just tell us your name, and it’ll be over,” I plead softly. Bruises are already starting to develop on her ass, blood smearing the inside of her thighs. I can’t help but feel bad for her, but I’m equally curious to know what her end game is. Why is she so determined to keep her identity hidden to the point that she’d rather endure the torment we’re putting her through? Crazy girl…

She looks at me as fresh tears spill from her eyes.

“Talon…please,” she whispers. My heart skips a few beats at the mention of my name. She definitely knows us. Tristan never said my actual name, only my nickname. For her to know my name and nickname, it’s apparent that she knows who we are.

My eyes widen as I stare at her. She looks familiar in a way, but not enough to put a name to her face. Maybe it’s the hair or the messed up makeup, but my brain continuously draws a blank. What the actual fuck?

After a few frustrating moments, I firmly push Tristan backward. He stumbles off the bed and glares at me. “What the fuck was that for?” His voice is angry as his hands curl into fists at his side. His eyes move up to the clock.

“She’s not going to give it to us,” I say. “Unless you plan on killing her, this shit is useless. Fucking look at her.”

I gesture to her bruised body as she lies whimpering on the bed. Tristan’s sweaty chest heaves with each enraged breath he takes. If looks could kill, I’d probably be dead a million times over. While I understand why he’s done it all, it’s overkill at this point. The girl hasn’t caved a bit regardless of what we’ve done to her, so it’s almost pointless torture at this point. It’s impossible for me to let this continue without having her death on my conscience. I’m done hurting an innocent person.

For tonight.

“Just like I fucking told you before, this could be over for her if she just gives us her name. If she weren’t a stubborn bitch, she wouldn’t be bleeding right now.”

“And it’s obvious that she’s not going to.” He pushes me aside and moves toward her again, only for me to pull him back once again. “We’re out of time anyway.”

Tristan’s eyes darts to the clock and a growl rumbles in his chest. “Then we’ll pay for more time.”

“No. It’s not going to make a difference. If she didn’t crack in two hours, more time isn’t going to change that,” I state firmly.

“Do you not care about what fucking happens to us if this bitch runs her mouth? If she tries to blackmail us? Do you realize what we’ll lose?!” he screams in my face.

“And we’ll deal with that as it comes. This is becoming unproductive.”

I keep my voice even. When it comes to dealing with my brother’s anger, matching his energy only escalates the situation. One of us has to be calm, and that’s usually me in our arguments.

The muscle in his jaw tenses as well as his hands tightening into fists at his sides. I’m sure it’s taking everything in him not to punch me, but he thinks better of it. He doesn’t say another word as he storms away. The room fills with tension as he cleans himself up, pulls his clothes back on, and exits the room.

My shoulders sag a bit when the door slams behind me, and I turn my attention back to the woman on the bed.

She’s a bloody, bruised mess, her fragile form trembling in fear. I’m not even sure what to say to her. There’s nothing I can say or much I can do that’ll take back everything that has been done to her over the last two hours. Considering how we still didn’t get any information, none of it seems worth it.

I move toward her, guilt swirling in my chest when she flinches away from me as I reach for her. Her soft cries fill my head as I remove the leather straps from her wrists. My fingertips brush over the red, angry skin from where the cuffs cut into her flesh, and she whimpers in response. I don’t bother saying much to her, as there isn’t anything I can say that’ll be helpful. She allows me to clean her up at least.

“I can walk you to your car,” I offer her as she gingerly pulls her dress back on. She doesn’t say anything to me as she gets dressed. Her movements are stiff, her face twisting in pain with each step she takes. I try to offer her my arm to give her a little support, but she pulls away from me. Not that I blame her. I wouldn’t want help from the guy who contributed to my pain, either.

When we reach the outside of the club, she moves in the opposite direction of the parking lot. I watch her with a frown.

“I can walk you to your car or help you⁠—”

“I don’t have a car,” she mumbles. “I took the bus here.”

I glance at the visible bruises that’ll be on display. If she steps on a bus looking like that, it’s only a matter of time before the cops get involved. I shove my hands in my pockets.

“I don’t think it’ll be comfortable riding on a bumpy bus after everything that’s just happened.” I nod toward the parking lot. “I don’t mind giving you a lift.”

“Why give a ride to someone you hate?” Ice and malice fill her tone as she stares at me accusingly.

“Who said anything about hating?”

“You don’t fuck someone like that if you don’t hate them.” She wraps her arms around herself. “I didn’t do anything to you guys. I gave you your two hours, so I just want you to leave me alone.”

She turns to walk away, but I know I can’t let her go out around other people looking like that. I gently grab her arm with enough pressure to keep her from running, but not enough to hurt her. She glares at me, but she at least doesn’t pull away.

“Please,” I say and give her what I hope is an inviting smile. “It’s the least I can do after all of…that.”

She stares at me for a long moment as she bites the inside of her cheek. “Fine,” she agrees reluctantly.

She follows me back to my car and looks around cautiously, as if she’s looking for Tristan to pop out from the shadows. Even I’m surprised not to find him anywhere. I pull out my phone to call him, only to find a text from him.

Tristan: Taking an Uber to give me time to cool off. Don’t wait for me.

I sigh inwardly and unlock the car door. Considering that we arrived in his car, it’s strange that he’d take an Uber instead of making me take one, but I guess it works out. Kitten gets into the passenger seat, sitting as far away as she can. She murmurs her address to me and then goes silent, not saying anything for the duration of the trip.

By the time we get to her place, the earlier guilt I felt comes back with a vengeance. At least I now know why she sold her virginity for money. The apartment complex is run-down and doesn’t look like a safe place for someone like her to live alone in. It’s a miracle that the place isn’t condemned with its broken windows, sagging foundation, and the cracked sidewalk leading to the place. I frown at the scene in front of me. Tristan had said that desperate people would do anything and now I see what she’d willingly risk her life for.

She opens the car door, which pulls my attention away from the apartment complex. I quickly get out of the car and help her out, only for her to jerk away from me. I put my hands in my pockets, more so to remind myself not to try to help her since she doesn’t want to be touched. My head stays on a swivel as we make our way inside the building. The inside is even worse than the outside. There’s no way that this building could pass inspection. How the fuck can she stand to live here?

The stairs leading to the upper levels appear to be on their last legs, trembling anytime someone uses them. I look up to see the patchy work on the roof and then notice the buckets scattered across the floor, probably to catch whatever leaks from the ceiling. I shake my head. This is fucking sad.

Despite her initial refusal, she allows me to help her up the stairs to her apartment. When she gets to her door, she unlocks it and quickly slips inside before slamming the door in my face. I listen as she engages every lock she owns on her front door, shaking my head.

“You’re welcome,” I say under my breath before stalking away.

When I’m back in the safety of my car, I type her address into a note on my phone. Knowing her address is at least a start, as I can use that to try to find more information on her. We may not have gotten her name, but we at least know where we can find her. All isn’t lost yet.

Tristan is across the couch when I come in, beer in hand. He glares at me but doesn’t say anything, not that I need him to. I know he’s disappointed that we didn’t get the information we were hoping to get, but hopefully, my information can change his mood.

“I got her address,” I finally say, breaking the uneasy tension in the room. He doesn’t initially react, only taking another swig from the beer bottle instead.

“And how do you know it’s actually hers?”

“I gave her a ride home.” I sigh deeply. “At least it makes sense why she wanted to sell her virginity in the first place. The building is a fucking health hazard.”

I Airdrop the note file to him with her address and wait. He opens it, looks at it, and then cuts his eyes to me.

“You sure?” he asks.

I nod. “Positive. I even walked her to the door, and she unlocked it and went inside. It’s her place.”

Tristan taps around on his phone for a few moments, a call coming through on his speakerphone.

“What is it?” a rough voice answers after a few rings.

“Is this Cambridge Apartments?” Tristan asks.

“Yeah, you looking for a place to stay, kid?”

I quickly cross the living room and take Tristan’s phone and hold up a finger to him before he can bitch at me.

“We’re actually calling about a tenant that lives there,” I say.

The man scoffs. “Look, this is a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ kind of place. I don’t have any information for ya,” he states.

“We just need a name for the tenant in apartment 307.”

“Unless you have a warrant, I can’t give you anything.”

“Unless you want me to call an inspector and have him come check out how many codes you’re violating, I’d advise you give me what I’m looking for,” I state firmly. “I was just there a few moments ago, and I know for a fact that your electric set up is a fire disaster waiting to happen. Do you want those problems?” Tristan smirks at me as the line goes quiet. “Hello?”

“Fine,” the man huffs. Papers shuffle in the background for a brief moment. “Her name is Mara Steele. Happy now?”

The smirk falls off of Tristan’s face, and my eyes widen. Mara Steele? As in…our deceased mother Mara Steele?

What the fuck is going on?

I hang up without another word to the man, unable to form words. “This is some kind of set up,” Tristan growls as he stands to his feet. “We still don’t know who this bitch is, and she’s living in an apartment in our mother’s name. Who the fuck does she think she is?”

“I don’t know, but we need to go find out,” I mumble. Whatever guilt I felt earlier is now long gone. I don’t know what kind of fraud this woman thinks she can commit in our mother’s name, but now I’m fully invested along with my brother to get to the bottom of who she is.

Tristan and I get back into the car and speed back to her apartment, finding our way to the leasing office. A heavy set, bald man with a stained tank top and dingy sweatpants sits behind a desk watching a tiny television with a grainy movie on. He looks up at us as he lazily dumps ashes from his cigarette into a red solo cup, half-filled with liquid.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“Yeah, we just talked to you on the phone,” I start.

The man’s bored expression immediately turns into a scowl. “What the hell do you want now?” he fusses. “You come all the way here to threaten me with more inspections and shit, you little shits?”

Tristan pulls out a wad of cash and slaps it down on the counter. The man’s eyes grow as big as saucers as they bounce between the money and our faces.

“The name was a start, but we could use a copy of a key to her apartment,” Tristan says.

The man nervously licks his lips. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he says with an unsure chuckle. “Tenant safety and all.”

I grin. “We can tell you two thousand reasons why you should consider it.” I cock my head to the side. “So…how about that key?”

And it doesn’t take much more convincing before we finally get the key that’ll get us closer to the truth.