Page 24 of Blood We Steal

His grip tightened ever so slightly.

“That’s where you’re wrong. You owe me. And if you think death will get you out of my debt, you are mistaken. You owe me. You are mine. No matter where you go, I will find you. I will follow you everywhere, even to hell to get what’s mine.”

He held my gaze, his dark eyes piercing, like he could see things I’d even tried to hide from myself.

My skin felt too tight, the heavy weight of Rubin’s gaze as he moved closer and closer holding me in place. My racing heart drowned out every other sound, and all I could focus on was him, close enough that I could see the flecks of gray on his stubbled cheek. He was only a few inches taller than me, but impossibly powerful, all encompassing.

This had to be what the eye of a hurricane felt like, calm amidst unfathomable destruction. That thought scattered as Rubin moved even closer. I breathed in deep as he moved closer still, so close I was sure he was going to kiss me.

His lips were a breath away, his rage even closer. And I wasn’t sure what I wanted more, to run or to lean in.

That was a lie.

I wanted to lean in, wanted just once before the end to feel Rubin’s lips on mine, to taste him. Fear, embarrassment, reality froze me. But Rubin wasn’t frozen. He moved a nanometer closer and held there for only a long breath, his dark eyes so close I could separate his pupil from his iris, though they were almost the same color.

Then he lifted one corner of his mouth in a cruel sneer and turned away.

TWELVE

Simone

He didn’t touch me for hours.

It should have been a relief, but the silence had left me with far too much time to think about Rubin.

His fingers pressing against my wrist.

How inscrutable his expression was.

He’d said nothing once we reached the office, and once he released my wrist, he hadn’t even looked in my direction.

I’d been prepared for the opposite, and when he’d sat across from me, I hadn’t been able to miss the thick coil of cock, full, heavy—ready, so I’d figured he’d take what I’d offered cold and fast and be done with it.

And done with me.

How did I continue to underestimate Rubin?

Taking me hard and fast would have been a relief that wiped away the anxiety that gnawed at my stomach. It would have cut away all of the thinking, the torturous anticipation, and maybe given me something like the smallest sliver of peace.

Something Rubin would never allow. So he’d barricaded the door and then sat in the warden’s chair like it was his throne and waited.

For what, I wouldn’t even try to determine.

So I sat on the floor with my back against the filing cabinet and Rubin in my periphery and listened to the city die.

The screaming came and went and then came again. The brief periods of silence didn’t help. Sometimes the silence lasted long enough to make me believe the screaming was done.

It never was.

Then there was the shooting, the bursts of gunfire clanging like a twisted reveille.

The single shots were the worst, though. They didn’t explode, they pierced the chaos, finality after the crescendo. Underneath it all, the generators hummed, unbothered by the collapse around them. That should have grounded me, the machine working as it intended, but it just reminded me of how meaningless I was.

That realization weighed so heavy, I was almost happy when something fell outside the warden’s office if only for the distraction. Well, as happy as I could be while choking back a scream, as I stared at Rubin.

He didn’t look up from his seemingly fascinating task of cleaning his nails with the warden’s letter opener wrapped in a tissue. “The generator turned over. They installed a cheap one, so it kicks.”

How stupid of me not to know that.