Page 69 of Serpent & Saviors

Her loud sob was the only reaction I needed. With a firm tug, I guided her forward and led her up the steps and through the front door. The moment it shut behind us, the weight of it all hit. The proverbial noose tightened around her throat.

She had the nerve to dig her heels in as we headed toward the front room, and her resistance finally broke through the eerie compliance from the car. But it didn’t matter. I dragged her the rest of the way. The heels of her new trainers scuffed against the polished floor as I pulled her. She stumbled slightly, but I tightened my hold, forcing her inside the room.

I shoved her toward the couch that sat before the mirror. The two-way mirror—the one I had constructed as a reminder. God, I wished I could tell the two geniuses from her past how much I appreciated their house of horrors. Her trembling became more pronounced.

“Now,” I murmured, tilting my head as I inhaled the scent of her fear. “Why don’t we get started?”

As much as I longed to hurt her, truly hurt her, beat her beyond recognition for what she’d done, I couldn’t. In order for my plan to work, she would have to be mark free. In fact, the only marks Victoria would likely sustain would be the ones Jenny would inflict. That was if the poor nanny was strong enough in the end to fight back.

“I can’t wait to show you what you’ve done up close,” I taunted.

Excitement coursed through me, and my cock actually stirred. Part of the problem was that it took increasingly dark things for my body to respond sexually anymore. I was tired of Victoria at this point in our marriage.

Over the last year, she had developed some sort of coping mechanism, and since I’d tortured her extensively with her greatest fears, nothing got a rise out of her . But maybe this would, and if the opportunity presented itself, I wouldn’t hesitate to take full advantage of that. I grew harder just thinking about it.

“Well, let the show begin. The sooner the better. Declan and I have a life to get on with, after all. It’s too bad Andrew has knowledge of what he looks like or I would have the new nanny I hire take him in for counseling. Oh well, you can’t have everything in life, now can you? But at least you can die knowing that I’ll get him some care.”

“Cameron, I can tell you’re committed to this. Please don’t subject him to whatever it is. He shouldn’t have to pay for my mistakes.”

“You should have thought of that.” I shrugged.

Nigel would bring Declan down to the room and tell him I wanted him to wait for me. Knowing my son, he’d ask why. That was planned out too. Say what you want about me, but I never did things half-assed.

After being told I needed to have a serious conversation with him about his mummy, he would settle down right in front of the mirror. His curiosity would get the best of him the minute I hit the switch, changing the mirror into a window. He’d draw closer.

Victoria would be in place, and when the first gasp of horror left his lips, it would be sweet justice for me. By the end, he would give a first-hand account of his mother drowning Jenny and then hanging herself. At that point, Nigel and I would switch places. Him to record the last of her twitching, and me to save our son and make the call.

I checked my watch. We were doing excellently on time. I walked toward the side table. Everything was folded and waiting. I reached for the gloves first. Then the coveralls. Victoria sat silent, confusion tightening her posture, her hands clasped in front of her. I didn’t bother explaining.

Stepping inside the coveralls, I hummed a familiar tune. One she frequently wrote about in her journals. Something about the Carnival of the Animals. What was it again? The Swan. That’s right. The question in her eyes grew louder with every note. The zipper cut through the quiet.

The room felt smaller by the second as he donned something that you’d wear to paint a room. My skin buzzed, nerves screaming under the surface, waiting for his next move. I should have known this would be the outcome. My stomach twisted, and I lowered my eyes to the floor, counting the lines in the wood.

“Look in the mirror,” he demanded.

My pulse beat a violent drum in my ears as I lifted my gaze and did as he instructed. He moved toward it, touching the intricate carvings on the side of the frame. The mirror was full length and the craftsmanship that went into making it was exquisite. He spared no expense in having it custom designed. Carved into the deep, dark mahogany were vines and leaves.

They twisted and weaved their way around the edges. In the uppermost left corner were cherry blossoms. Spring. Directly across were sunflowers. Summer. Straight down from there were maple leaves. Autumn. And across from there were holly berries. Winter.

I hated this reminder almost as much as I hated the coffin bed I slept in. In the deepest recesses of my heart, I consoled myself that at least I wouldn’t be seeing that piece of furniture anymore.

He let me stare into my reflection for a minute, to sit with the terror, and then he hit the switch. I somehow knew he would.

Jenny.

I stared, frozen in horror. She was curled up in a ball on the other side of the glass. Her battered face, at least somewhat hidden from my view by her blonde hair. Her back rose and fell with labored breathing. My stomach twisted. Nausea rose and threatened to burst forth.

Then, without warning, he turned it off, and it was just me once more. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. The sound of his approaching footsteps signaled that he wasn’t in any hurry. A pen slid across the table in front of me, forcing me to tear my gaze away. Following it was a crisp piece of paper.

“Come on, now,” he murmured, amusement curling around each word. “You used to love writing, didn’t you? Pouring your heart and soul onto the page. All the accounts and even your hopes and dreams you’ve shared in those little journals.”

I swallowed hard, forcing down the bile clawing its way up my throat. He leaned down, his fingers barely grazing the nape of my neck as he whispered. “If I had time, I’d have you write me a poem like you did for Andrew. Maybe a heart-breaking elegy of what you’ve done.”

My breath hitched, and heat exploded across my cheeks.

“But alas,” he continued, straightening with an exaggerated sigh, “I don’t have that luxury.”

“Master?” I questioned, not understanding fully.