Page 68 of Serpent & Saviors

“Open your bag and get the envelope with the pictures.”

My voice was calm, but I saw the way she flinched at the command. She knew better than to hesitate, and her hands shook as she reached for her bag. It was subtle, so much so that most people would never notice.

But I always did. The tiny tremors, the way her breath hitched as she fumbled with the zipper, the way her fingers curled inward. It was her small way of protesting. As if she could refuse. The sound was loud between us, and her chest heaved as she withdrew the envelope.

“Would you like to know how I accomplished it?” I indicated the envelope she clutched.

“If it pl-pl-pleas-pleases…” Her words broke off.

“Bribery. I used some of that extra money I received for backing off these last few days. You’d be surprised what money can do to change a person’s life. The hotel staffer was beyond happy to help me. Again. Yes, he was the same one I paid to bug the hotel. My instincts served me well. So very, very well. I knew you’d cave.”

The smallest sob emerged. I tilted her face to mine, caressing her cheek. There it was. Shame. Recognition that I’d heard every moan, every cry of pleasure—every sordid moment between her and her lover.

“Take the pictures out,” I hissed.

Her fingers fumbled with the clasp, and she pulled out the stack of images from inside. The moment her eyes fell on the first one, her whole body locked up, a full-body freeze so absolute it almost made me laugh. Almost. A sharp inhale, and now her lower lip trembled as well.

I relished the moment because in the seconds for her breathing to hitch it came. Pain—not fear, not shock. Just raw, aching pain. Her hand clenched around the edges of the picture as if gripping it harder could somehow change what she was seeing.

Declan.

In his purest form, wearing his practice gear. His face was solemn. It was taken from the camera I had strategically placed in front of the door to her favorite place in the world. The basement. His hand rested on the doorknob.

She blinked rapidly, struggling to swallow the emotions she was experiencing. She was on the verge of tears. How poetic. Turning on me wasn’t her brightest idea, but then again, I didn’t keep her for her intellect. I couldn’t help but want to prolong the suffering.

“You know, you were the first person he asked about the minute he walked through the door. ‘Where’s mummy?’ He asks that a lot, poor little guy. Once he sees what you’ve done, he’ll never speak about you again. No, he’ll be too ashamed, horrified by what a monster you were,” I taunted.

She didn’t answer. Her wide, desperate eyes locked onto the image of our son. Her precious boy. A shudder wracked through her. The knuckles on her hands went white around the photo. She was no doubt imagining him walking through the door and seeing the horror that lay within.

I leaned in close enough that I could practically taste her misery. “Don’t stop there,” I murmured, nodding toward the pictures. “Let’s look at the next one—together. It’s my favorite. You have no idea how fun that was.”

She refused. The fucking bitch had the audacity to defy me. I snatched the first photo from her grasp and flung it away. Her whole body jolted, as if I’d physically struck her with a cane. And then her eyes landed on photo number two.

Face to face with the reality of her choices, a strangled noise clawed its way up her throat. It was the sweetest sound. A half gasp, half choke before she clamped a hand over her mouth.

Her pupils dilated, swallowing the pretty hazel color until there was nothing left but horror. She wasn’t breathing. Not properly, anyway. All she could afford at the moment was little shallow pants, each one more panicked than the last.

I dragged my knuckles along the two words scrawled at the top, watching her closely. A simple message: ‘call me’. And she had. Within seconds. The photo itself was the ultimate message. A closeup of her failure to comply with the rules.

Jenny lay on the basement floor, bloody and beaten almost beyond recognition. Almost.

“You really did think you were more clever than me, didn’t you? That you had some power by aligning yourself with the enemy. I will say, I’m glad you did the right thing. Not that I would have actually hurt our son. The threat, though, was enough. You fell for it. Never underestimate a mother’s need to protect her young. Am I right?”

“Cameron, please, you don’t have to do this,” she begged.

“Oh, but I do. You’ve lost, Victoria.” I shoved the picture in her face. “Look at what you’ve done. Poor, poor Jenny. She was just doing her job. Not her fault you turned into a psychopath.”

My gaze stayed fixed, and the silence stretched between us. Her breathing faltered under the weight of her newfound reality. Let her sit with the knowledge that all of this was her fault. Hers and hers alone.

When she couldn’t bear it anymore, she tore her gaze from the photo. Her shattered eyes met mine. Staring back at me was a woman who now understood she’d lost. The moment truly was bittersweet.

The tires crunched over the gravel driveway as the car slowed to a stop in front of the house. Our house. The place she thought she could escape. I glanced at her as Nigel stepped out to open the door. Tension hummed beneath the surface. Her body tensed, and her breathing grew shallower. She didn’t want to go inside.

“Time to face the music.”

The door swung open, and I stepped out. I offered her my hand. She hesitated, but a loud sigh followed as she resigned herself to her fate. She stepped out and turned toward the house. Before she could take a single step, my hand curled around her wrist. Her body stiffened, but she didn’t resist.

“Good girl,” I mocked before leaning in close, just enough for her to feel my breath against her ear. “Welcome home.”