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“You did come for us. You’re going to free us. I know it—”
Fuck!
Pushing that awful echo out of my mind, I leapt to my feet and paced in front of the fireplace.
Ily stayed on the couch, watching.
The tension between us dragged out until it twanged like a screeching violin string.
“Why did you bring me in here, Henri?” she finally asked.
I stopped dead and balled my hands.
My eyes zeroed in on her dry cheek. “You cried.”
Her shoulders swooped back. “And you figured you’d what? Bring me here and see if you could make me cry harder?”
I groaned at the thought. I hardened at the image.
I’d made the choice to bring her to this hellhole.
I wore the crime of my past.
Yet I couldn’t stop the idiotic boy inside me getting on his knees and pleading with her to fix me. To give me her tears so I might find salvation in this storm. To cry for me and scream at me. To kneel for me and curse me.
Fucking hell.
My stomach clenched.
Familiar sourness tainted my tongue.
Was a bathroom close by because the beer turned rancid in my gut.
I hated that the Masters were back.
I despised that Victor had returned, and instead of feeling fear, I actually felt a smidgen of relief. While he lurked around every corner, I had to keep my wits. Had to remember how to act. Had to actually speak instead of giving every word to my useless manuscript. But the real reason was…while he groomed me and pushed me, I could give myself grace because I wasn’t the worst one in the room anymore.
He was.
The internal double doors leading to yet another dayroom suddenly sprang wide and in he walked, summoned by my thoughts.
“Ah!” Victor opened his arms, a black and silver bag dangling from his left hand and a familiar leather leash in his right. Rachel trailed docilely behind him, her collar clipped to her beaming, well-rested Master. “There you are! Why did you run off, my dear Henri? Was it something I said? You’re missing the canapés and entertainment.”
I flicked a look at Ily.
Her face turned unreadable; eyes narrowed.
I searched her gaze for that spark of fire that always singed me. I wished I could rewind time and actually give her an answer when she asked me to play along with her. I wished I could make her feel anything but hate.
I didn’t want Victor in the same room as her, but I was tired. So motherfucking tired of swimming against this black undertow and it took every effort. All my self-control to swallow down the misery and mayhem and step back into my expected role.
“Vic. Sorry, I…I needed to reprimand Il—”
I cut myself off.
I hadn’t said her name since she’d told me what it meant.
I still couldn’t say it.
