Marked by the Monsters I Created

Maya Cross had blood on her hands again.

Not hers this time.

The young man on the trauma bed was barely twenty, maybe younger. His motorcycle jacket had been cut open, his ribs were cracked, and his left leg was a mess of torn denim, broken bone, and blood. The monitors screamed above him while two nurses worked fast on either side of the gurney.

"BP dropping," Nurse Patel called out.

Maya did not blink. "Two units O-negative. Now. Get respiratory ready. He's losing volume faster than we can replace it."

Detroit General Hospital's emergency room was chaos on a normal Friday night. Tonight was worse. Rain had turned the freeway into a metal graveyard, and every ambulance in the city seemed to be headed straight for her bay.

Maya had been on her feet for fourteen hours.

Her back ached. Her eyes burned. Her coffee had gone cold sometime around midnight, and the protein bar in her scrub pocket had been crushed flat by accident. She still moved like she had energy left, because patients did not care whether their doctor was tired.

They cared whether they lived.

"He's crashing," someone said.

"Not if I can help it." Maya pressed down on the bleeding wound and lifted her eyes to the intern frozen at the foot of the bed. "Either move, or learn. Standing there won't save him."

The intern snapped out of it and rushed forward.

Thirty-eight minutes later, the patient was alive.

Barely, but alive.

Maya stripped off her bloody gloves and dropped them into the biohazard bin. Her hands trembled for two seconds, then steadied. That was how it always went. Panic after the danger passed. Never during.

"Dr. Cross," Nurse Patel said, leaning against the counter with a tired smile, "your fiance called three times."

Maya glanced at the clock. 11:47 p.m.

Damn.

Ryan had been asking her to come over all week. Dinner, wine, some ridiculous speech about how they needed to spend more time together before the wedding. Maya had promised she would try.

Trying, apparently, meant forgetting the entire concept of time while keeping strangers alive.

"Did he sound mad?" Maya asked.

"He sounded like a man who has never worked an ER shift in his life," Patel said dryly.

Maya huffed a laugh. "So yes."

Patel's expression softened. "Go home. Seriously. The next attending is already here. You saved three people tonight. Let someone else be the hero for once."

Maya should have gone straight to her apartment, showered, and passed out face-first on her bed.

Instead, she looked down at her scrubs, then at the small diamond ring on her finger.

Maybe she really had been neglecting Ryan.

Maybe surprise mattered.

Maybe showing up, even exhausted, would prove she was trying.

Forty minutes later, Maya stood outside Ryan Hale's apartment holding a bottle of expensive red wine and a takeout bag from the Italian place he loved. She had changed into jeans, a black sweater, and a camel coat, but her hair was still damp from a rushed hospital shower.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Lena: Did you finish the alien beast husband book yet???

Maya smiled despite herself.

She had stayed up way too late last night reading that trashy sci-fi reverse-harem novel Lena kept pushing on her. The villainess was named Maya Cross too.

The book Maya turned out to be a sadistic spoiled villain who tortured five powerful beastmen until all of them wanted her dead.

Maya had texted Lena three separate times just to ask why anyone would create five future kings and then abuse them like free punching bags.

Before she could reply, a soft laugh came from inside Ryan's apartment.

A woman's laugh.

Maya went still.

The sound was not loud. It slipped through the door like a secret that had gotten careless.

Then Ryan's voice followed, low and amused.

"Relax, babe. Maya's at the hospital. She always is."

Maya's fingers tightened around the wine bottle.

For a moment, her brain refused to understand the words.

Then the woman laughed again, closer this time. "You're terrible. What if she surprises you?"

Ryan snorted. "Maya doesn't do surprises. She does trauma charts, twelve-hour shifts, and bank transfers."

The takeout bag rustled in Maya's hand.

Something cold and clean settled in her chest.

She took out the spare key Ryan had begged her for months ago, slid it into the lock, and opened the door.

Ryan Hale was standing in the middle of the living room with his shirt half open.

A blonde woman sat on Maya's cream sofa with one bare leg crossed over the other. She wore a red silk dress Maya recognized immediately because she had paid for it.

The diamond bracelet on the woman's wrist? Maya's card.

The silver heels by the rug? Maya's card.

The little pearl clutch on the coffee table? Also Maya's card.

Dress. Bracelet. Shoes. Bag. This unfamiliar blonde woman had tried to steal everything from her through her foolish fiancé.

Ryan's face turned white. "Maya. You're... early."

"Technically, I'm late." Maya stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Her voice sounded calm enough to scare even herself. "You said dinner was at eight."

The blonde woman slowly stood. She looked Maya up and down, taking in the tired eyes, the plain sweater, the hospital badge still clipped to her coat pocket.

Then she smiled.

"So this is the famous Maya Cross." Her hand touched the diamond bracelet. "I pictured someone more glamorous."

Ryan dragged a hand through his hair. "Maya, don't make this dramatic."

Maya stared at him. "You're cheating on me in the apartment I helped you lease, with a woman wearing clothes bought with my money, and your opening line is don't make this dramatic?"

His shame lasted about three seconds before turning into irritation.

"Maybe if you acted like a fiancee instead of a walking hospital schedule, this wouldn't have happened."

Ryan kept going, voice sharpening now that cruelty had given him courage. "Do you know what it's like being engaged to you? You're never around. You're always exhausted. And when you are here, all you talk about is blood pressure and intubation and who almost died."

The blonde woman tilted her head. "Some men want a woman, not a paycheck with a medical degree."

Maya's eyes moved to her. "And some women want a man, not a parasite in designer shoes."

The smile vanished.

Ryan's jaw tightened. "See? This is what I mean. You think being rich makes you better than everyone. But honestly, Maya, money is the only easy thing to love about you. Without it, what do you even have?"

For one heartbeat, the room went silent.

It hurt more than the cheating. More than the lies. More than seeing another woman wrapped in gifts bought with Maya's money.

Then Maya looked at the ring on her finger and laughed once. "Good question. Let's find out."

She pulled off the engagement ring and dropped it into the takeout bag.

Ryan blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Ending this."

Maya took out her phone. Her fingers moved fast.

First, the shared credit card.

Frozen.

Second, the wedding planner.

Cancelled.

Third, her lawyer.

"Send me the engagement termination papers tonight. Also start recovery for all charges made by Ryan Hale and any authorized secondary users in the past six months."

Fourth, the apartment management company.

"Remove Ryan Hale from renewal approval. I am withdrawing financial sponsorship effective immediately."

Ryan stared at her phone like it was a loaded gun.

"Maya, wait. You're overreacting."

"No," Maya said. "I'm finally reacting the correct amount."

The blonde woman grabbed her clutch. "Ryan, what's going on?"

Maya looked at the bracelet on her wrist. "That goes back too. Unless you'd like me to let my lawyer explain theft, fraud, and unjust enrichment in very small words."

The woman flushed red and fumbled with the clasp.

Ryan stepped toward Maya, panic breaking through his anger. "Baby, come on. We can talk."

Maya lifted one hand. "Don't. You wanted to know what I had besides money? Boundaries. A career. A spine. Enjoy finding someone else to fund your lifestyle."

She turned and walked out before he could answer.

The hallway air felt cold against her face.

Maya made it to the street before her hands started shaking.

This time she let them.

She called Lena.

Her best friend picked up on the second ring. "If this is about beast husbands, I told you the fox one is obviously endgame material."

"I just caught Ryan cheating," Maya said.

Silence.

Then Lena exploded. "I will bury him. Where are you? Do I need a shovel or an alibi?"

Maya laughed despite the tightness in her throat. "Neither. I already cancelled the wedding, froze the cards, and sicced my lawyer on him."

"That's my girl." Lena paused. "Then we are celebrating. Bar. Drinks. Freedom. Immediately."

Maya looked down the wet street. Neon signs blurred in the rain. "I could use a drink."

"And listen," Lena added, voice brightening with forced cheer, "you literally share a name with that Maya. Maybe the universe owes you five hot beast husbands after this disaster."

Maya snorted. "Hard pass. Book Maya tortured them and got herself killed. If I ever met those men, I'd start with an apology and a first-aid kit. Radical idea, I know."

Lena laughed. "Fine. Apology first, five husbands second."

"Goodbye, menace." Maya ended the call with a small smile.

For the first time all night, she could breathe.

She stepped off the curb.

A car engine roared.

Maya turned her head.

Headlights swallowed the street.

Behind the windshield, Ryan's face was twisted with rage and panic, his mouth open like he was shouting something she could not hear.

Tires screamed against wet pavement.

Maya had time for one thought.

Of course he would try to take even this from me.

Then the car hit her.

Pain exploded white-hot through her body. The sky spun. The street vanished. Somewhere far away, someone screamed.

Darkness closed over her like deep water.

The last thing Maya heard before the world disappeared was not Ryan's voice.

It was the crack of a whip.

---

The first sound Maya Cross heard after death was a whip cracking.

Sharp. Electric. Close enough to make her bones jump.

For one terrible second, she thought Ryan had dragged her out of the dark and finished what the car had started. Then she opened her eyes and saw silver hair hanging down to a man's shoulders.

A man was kneeling on a metal floor.

His bronze back was arched tight like a bow ready to snap. Every muscle in his body was tense with suppressed strength, but whip marks cut across his skin like a road map of pain. Fresh wounds still bled. Red streams ran down his chest and stomach, gathering at his waist before dripping onto his pants.

Maya couldn't breathe.

This was not Detroit.There were reinforced alloy walls. Cold artificial light. A sleek medical kit thrown open on a nearby table.

And an energy whip in her hand.

The man slowly lifted his head.

Dark red eyes locked onto hers.

Hatred.

Pure, frozen hatred.

He looked at the whip, then at her face. A cold smile touched his split lips.

"Stopping already?" His voice was rough and low, each word scraping like broken glass. "What, did your arm finally get tired?"

Holy shit.

Maya stumbled back so fast her shoulder hit the wall.

Memories crashed into her skull like a freight train.

Starships. Beastmen. Zerg. Federation law. Bio-neural contracts.

And the man kneeling in front of her.

Caleb Storm.

Snake beastman. Former A-rank commander of the Fifth Imperial Legion. A man who had once refused an order to slaughter civilians and paid for it with his career, his rank, and almost his mind.

The name hit Maya harder than the car had.

No.

She knew him.

She knew this scene.

This was the novel she had read last night after her shift. The one Lena had joked about. The one with the villainess who shared her name.

Maya Cross.

The sadistic daughter of Marcus Cross, one of the only two S-rank beastman warriors in the galaxy. A rare Female with five contracted beastmen she had treated like toys.

Five future monsters.

Five men she had tortured until they wanted her dead.

Maya looked down at her hands.

Soft pale fingers. Sharp black nails. A faint purple scorpion mark glowed beneath the skin of her wrist.

Oh God.

She had died and woken up inside the villainess.

In this world, humans had been forced to genetically modify themselves after the environment collapsed. They mixed human DNA with animal DNA and became beastmen. But the process killed most people.

Female survival rates were terrifyingly low. Less than five percent of the population were Females. To preserve their reproductive ability, Females could not fully transform.

This left them defenseless.

Just when beastman civilization finally stabilized, space bugs called Zerg invaded the galaxy.

They specifically attacked beastman settlements.

This made the already rare Females even more precious.

To keep the species alive, Federal law gave Females the highest status. Each Female could have multiple Male partners for protection, reproduction, and mental stability.

And the previous Maya had treated these former heroes like torture toys.

Maya dropped the energy whip without thinking. Blood drops from the tip splattered across her ankle.

Wait. She remembered this scene!

In the novel, this torture session completely destroyed Caleb's last faith in the law. From this moment on, he stopped believing justice would ever protect him.

And later, when he finally broke free, he would take brutal revenge.

According to the plot, she was totally screwed.

"Just because Zara talked to you, I've been torturing you for three days?" Maya stared at the wounds covering his body. Her voice shook despite her effort to sound steady.

Caleb's eyebrow twitched as he studied Maya's panicked eyes.

What game was she playing now? Three days of torture with that energy whip, then suddenly she dropped it and put on this innocent act like butter would not melt in her mouth.

Did she really think this little performance would make him trust her? Not a chance in hell.

Maya Cross was just waiting for them to let their guard down so she could come back with something even worse.

Caleb figured he had her number. His jaw clenched as he stared at that deceptively sweet face, every muscle in his body coiled tight with suspicion.

"What new trick are you planning..."

Maya froze and stepped back.

"Stop talking." Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to stay calm. "Your wounds need treatment."

Her doctor instincts kicked in immediately.

Maya quickly examined Caleb's injuries. Multiple deep cuts. Clothing stuck to torn flesh. Severe blood loss. Possible infection risk. He needed the bleeding stopped right away.

As an ER doctor, Maya had seen all kinds of injuries. Gunshots. Car crashes. Burn victims. Men and women brought in half-dead under bright hospital lights.

But those wounds had come from accidents, violence, or sickness.

The wounds in front of her were made whip by whip by her.

No. By the previous Maya.

The guilt almost choked her.

Caleb looked at Maya mockingly. When he raised his head, the scorpion mark on his chest became more obvious. "What, want to try pouring acid on the wounds this time?"

Maya's breath caught.

The previous Maya had actually done that before.

She fought down her panic and stiffly walked to the medical kit. She grabbed healing gel with fingers that would not quite stop shaking.

The previous Maya never used medical supplies to heal people.

Only to torture them.

"I didn't mean to..." Maya stammered. Her Detroit accent slipped out.

Her brain was still stuck in the hospital, but her body was on a starship. The confusion made her dizzy as hell.

"Cut the act." Caleb interrupted her. He slowly stood up. His tall shadow loomed over her with crushing pressure.

Maya's hand froze mid-air, holding the healing gel.

She had forgotten.

The previous Maya's cruelty had been burned into these men's bones. Any strange behavior from her would only be seen as a new torture method.

Even though Caleb clearly didn't trust her, Maya still forced herself to treat his wounds.

When she finished with the last roll of bandages, footsteps echoed from the cabin entrance.

Sage Thomas stood at the front of the doorway, silver-white hair falling across his face. Plasma burns marked his arms and neck in ugly red lines. Jasper Davis hovered behind him with his fox ears pinned back, one hand covering the energy-blade scar across his once-perfect face. Hunter Blake filled the rest of the entrance like a wall of muscle and old wounds.

All three of them stared at Maya's hand on Caleb's bandage.

"Let go of Caleb," Hunter said again, voice low and dangerous. "If you're pissed, take it out on us."

Maya's throat tightened.

They thought she was healing Caleb only to hurt him worse later.

Of course they did.

She pulled her hand back slowly. "I'm not punishing anyone."

Jasper laughed under his breath. "That's new. Did you run out of creative ideas?"

Maya ignored him and forced herself to count heads.

Caleb. Sage. Jasper. Hunter.

Only four.

A cold memory from the novel slid into place.

"Where's Finn?"

The whole room changed.

Sage's fingers curled into fists. Jasper's smile vanished. Hunter's jaw went hard enough to crack bone.

Caleb looked at her like he wanted to rip the answer out of her throat. "You forgot already?"

Jasper's voice turned sharp. "Yesterday you wanted to see what happened when an aquatic beastman lost his scales. You ordered us to put him in the isolation tank."

Maya's stomach dropped.

Finn Williams.

The fallen prince of Oceania Star. Water beastman. Royal bloodline. Purification ability. In the book, he had hated Maya with a quiet, bottomless cruelty.

Now she knew why.

"Bring him here," Maya said.

Nobody moved.

Her nails dug into her palms. "Now."

That sounded more like the original Maya. The order worked.

Caleb and Hunter disappeared down the corridor. Minutes later, they returned pushing a mobile isolation tank filled with cloudy recycled water.

Finn floated inside.

His light blue hair stuck to his pale cheeks. His violet eyes were open but empty. Blood colored the water around his tail in thin red threads. Where beautiful scales should have been, raw flesh showed through in ragged patches.

Maya forgot how to breathe.

She had seen trauma before. She had seen bodies torn open on emergency tables under white hospital lights.

But this was different.

This had been done slowly. Deliberately. For entertainment.

A burst of static cracked through the cabin before Maya could speak.

The main projection screen flickered on.

A beautiful young woman appeared in the hologram. Golden hair fell around her shoulders like sunlight poured through silk. Her blue eyes were sweet, bright, and completely poisonous.

Zara Sinclair.

She had been everything the book Maya hated. Noble family. Perfect face. Perfect manners. And enough political connections to make rescue fleets turn around with one call.

"Maya darling," Zara said, smiling as if they were old friends meeting at a tea party. "I heard your ship lost contact with the patrol route. How tragic."