Colson

Wearing the Monster Again

Colson POV

Ezra was watching me too closely.

That alone told me everything I needed to know.

He wasn’t looking at the girls.

He wasn’t looking at the blood.

He wasn’t looking at the results.

He was looking at me.

Not like a master admiring his weapon.

Like a master checking for cracks.

That smile on his face—the slow, deliberate curve of satisfaction—was a lie. Ezra never smiled without purpose. He never showed approval unless he was baiting something deeper. He was waiting. Testing. Peeling back layers he couldn’t yet see clearly.

And the worst part?

He knew me well enough to know when something had shifted.

I stood in the center of the underground chamber, the air thick with the smell of fear, blood, and damp stone. The torches flickered along the walls, their flames bending and twitching as if even they were nervous in his presence.

Behind me, the girls trembled in the cages.

They tried to stay quiet.

Tried to stay small.

Tried to disappear.

It never worked.

It never had.

Their heartbeats filled the room like a choir of panic, each one racing fast enough to remind me exactly what they were.

Alive.

Warm.

Fragile.

Everything I had spent years pretending didn’t matter.

Ezra leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, his fingers resting lightly against his lips as he studied me like I was a puzzle he hadn’t solved yet.

That was new.

Ezra never had to study me before.

He had always known me.

Owned me.

Controlled me.

But now…

Now he was unsure.

That was dangerous.

Because Ezra didn’t tolerate uncertainty.

He eliminated it.

I could already feel it—his patience thinning, his curiosity sharpening into something more deliberate.

This wasn’t about the girls anymore.

This was about loyalty.

Mine.

And I had already failed once tonight.

That hesitation.

That fraction of a second where I had almost remembered who I had become instead of who I used to be.

Ezra had seen it.

Of course he had.

He saw everything.

Which meant I had one option left.

Become him again.

Become the version of myself I had buried.

The version of myself that didn’t hesitate.

The version of myself that didn’t care.

Even if it made me hate myself for it.

I rolled my shoulders slowly, forcing tension out of my muscles.

Relax.

Loose.

Controlled.

The old Colson never tensed.

The old Colson never doubted.

The old Colson enjoyed this.

I turned slowly toward the cages.

The moment my eyes landed on them, they froze.

Every single one of them.

Like prey sensing the exact moment the predator had decided which one would die first.

One of them shook her head weakly, her lips trembling.

“No… please…”

Her voice cracked.

Fragile.

Hopeful.

I smiled.

Not because I wanted to.

Because I remembered how.

Because Ezra needed to see it.

Because survival demanded it.

That smile had once come naturally.

Now it felt like wearing someone else’s face.

I stepped closer.

Slow.

Unhurried.

Letting the sound of my footsteps echo against the stone floor.

Letting the silence stretch.

Letting the fear grow.

Because fear was part of the performance.

Fear was part of the proof.

My hand wrapped around the iron bars.

Cold.

Solid.

Unforgiving.

The cage door creaked open.

The sound made one of them scream immediately, her voice breaking into a raw, uncontrollable sob.

I tilted my head slightly, studying them like I used to.

Detached.

Curious.

Predatory.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” I said softly.

My voice was calm.

Amused.

Cruel.

The girl closest to me recoiled violently, her back hitting the bars behind her.

Her pulse thundered.

Her breathing hitched.

Her eyes locked onto mine, wide and glassy with terror.

She knew.

She understood exactly what I was.

What I would do.

I reached forward and grabbed her arm.

She struggled instantly.

Her fingers clawed at my wrist, her nails scraping uselessly against skin that did not break.

Weak.

Pointless.

Human.

I pulled her toward me effortlessly, her feet stumbling as she tried to resist.

Her heart pounded harder.

Faster.

Closer.

I leaned down slowly, my mouth hovering near her throat.

Her skin was warm.

Alive.

The scent of her blood filled my senses, rich and intoxicating.

For a moment—

Just a moment—

I remembered what it felt like to enjoy that.

To lose myself in it.

To let hunger replace thought.

To let instinct replace restraint.

Ezra shifted slightly behind me.

Watching.

Waiting.

Judging.

I couldn’t hesitate again.

I bit down hard.

Her scream cut off instantly, replaced by a soft, broken gasp as venom flooded her system.

Her body went rigid.

Then slack.

Submission.

Control.

Ownership.

I fed deeper this time.

Longer.

Not because I wanted to.

Because I had to.

Because Ezra was watching.

Because Ezra needed to believe.

Because Ezra needed to trust the monster he had created was still alive.

Her pulse slowed slightly beneath my lips.

Her resistance faded.

Her body sagged against mine.

I could feel her slipping into that familiar haze of venom and confusion, her mind no longer capable of understanding what was happening to her.

I released her slowly.

She collapsed immediately, her legs giving out beneath her as she hit the floor, her breathing shallow and uneven.

Alive.

Broken.

Ezra clapped once behind me.

The sound echoed sharply through the chamber.

Mocking.

Satisfied.

“There he is,” Ezra said softly.

I wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand, turning to face him.

My expression relaxed.

Amused.

Untouched.

Exactly what he expected.

Exactly what he needed to see.

“You were beginning to worry me,” he continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me.

I smirked.

The old smirk.

The one that had once been real.

“Miss me?” I said casually.

Ezra’s lips curved faintly.

“There was a moment,” he said, “where I wondered if you’d forgotten yourself.”

Forgotten myself.

If only he knew.

If only he understood just how much I remembered.

Just how much I hated remembering.

I leaned casually against the cage, crossing my arms.

“I’m still yours,” I said lightly.

The lie tasted like ash.

But Ezra smiled.

Because for now—

He believed it.

And that was the only thing keeping me alive.