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He raised both brows. “How many parts are there?”
“Four. Maybe five. It depends on how Part Four goes, I guess.”
“What part are we in now?”
“Oh, we’re still only on Part Two.”
“When is Three?”
“Whenever we let him go.”
“So what’s Part Four?”
“Babe, I’m really tired. Can we talk about this in the morning?” I tried to roll over again, but he wasn’t having it. He pinned me to the mattress, his hand on the center of my chest this time.
“Itismorning,” he growled.
It was my turn to groan. I really didn’t want to get into all of the logistics but it was obvious he wasn’t going to let it go. It was only fair, I suppose, to clue him in since he was technically the muscle behind the whole operation.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I shook myself awake and tried to keep it as concise as possible. “Ok. Cliff’s Notes. We let him go. He undoubtedly goes to the police. I deal with my mother and whatever cops he tries to send after us. The FBI willreallyget involved this time, as opposed to the rumor Bennett started. Once he gets arrested on federal charges, I’ll convince Mom to finally divorce his ass to save her own neck. Felony charges for him and a nasty prenup for her meansIget the controlling shares of NIB&T and I’ll finally be able to pay you back for all of the money you’ve spent because of me.”
He blinked.
I blinked back.
His lips parted and promptly closed again.
I lifted both brows, waiting.
After I don’t know how many minutes of him staring at me like I was a complete stranger, I finally blurted out, “Just say something!”
“Goodnight.” He rolled away from me slowly, facing the opposite direction. It didn’t escape my notice that he shifted toward the edge of the mattress, like he might have to make a break for it in the middle of the night.
Shaking my head, I suppressed a sigh. “Youasked,” I huffed in my defense, flopping onto my side again.
* * *
Hoursafter I clued Sasha in on the extent of my evil plan, he announced my presence was needed at Delirium — part ofhisplan, apparently. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but he was insistent. Sure, I’d organized my father’s kidnapping and authorized his subsequent torture, but that didn’t mean I actually wanted to see the results.
I honestly didn’t know what I was expecting when I walked into that basement. Sasha had been at it for days. Nothing bad, he assured me. But his definition of “bad” and mine were two very different things. I’m sure compared to whatever hell he’d lived through, everything else seemed like a breeze.
The first thing that hit me was the smell. Blood and urine. Either Sasha had no sense of smell anymore, or he’d become accustomed to it since he made a face at me when I covered my nose and stifled a gag. “Are you going to be sick?”
I shook my head, willing myself to suck it up. The sooner I did whatever he wanted, the sooner I could get back outside to fresh air.
My father was still inside the cage, sitting in the very center, holding himself and shivering uncontrollably. Water dripped steadily from one of the pipes that ran above the cage. It wasn’t running, like a faucet, but it was just enough that the droplets were continuous. There was no escaping it; the entire bottom of the cell was wet. Given how cold it was down here, it wasn’t surprising he was freezing.
A large pool of blood stained one corner of the room, a thick chain dangling above it. There was a pile of wires and metal clips in another corner. And a towel. A bloody towel, folded neatly and laying next to an unzipped black duffel bag, a metal pipe hanging out the side. I couldn’t get past the towel. What the fuck was it for? Why wasthatthe only thing that had any semblance of order to it? Why was it folded instead of haphazardly tossed aside?
“You were supposed to scare him,” I whispered, trying to process everything in front of me.
“Doesn’t he look scared?” Sasha gestured to the cage, like I didn’t believe him.
“Roan?”
I startled at the sound of my dad’s voice. Walking toward the cage slowly, I was almost there when Sasha’s hand clamped on my shoulder, halting me in my tracks.
“No,” he said quietly when I threw a questioning glance his way. “No affection. No comfort. If you do, this starts over again.”
