Page 30 of Brutal Truths

With a grunt, I roll off my knees and onto my arse, the impact jarring as I lean my back against the wall and close my eyes.

The idea of sharing DNA with him fills me with horror.

He has to be wrong.

I inhale through my mouth and not my nose, hoping that dulls the stench clinging to the air. It doesn’t.

Now it coats my tongue, thick and foul, and I want to scream—but I don’t. It’ll only make my head pound harder, giving Rurik exactly what he wants.

The sound of footsteps returning grows louder, heavier now, before stopping just outside the door. For a second, I wonder if he’s had a change of heart, but then I remember the emptiness in his gaze. A man with no soul can’t grow a conscience.

A red folder slides under the door.

“Read it. We’ll talk about it when I return in a few hours.”

“A few hours? You said an hour.” I push myself off the floor, anger sharpening my voice. “You can’t leave me in here with these dead bodies for a few hours.”

“I can, and I am.”

His footsteps fade as he walks away.

“Read it,” he calls back. “Maybe you’ll learn something about the people who’ve been lying to you your entire life.”

I drag the folder closer and pick it up. It’s heavier than I expected. When I glance down, my name is printed on a white sticker on the tab.

How long has he had a folder on me? The weight alone tells me this isn’t something thrown together overnight. We met late on Sunday afternoon, hardly twenty-four hours ago.

There’s no way he put this together in such a short time.

Which means whatever’s in here was planned long before I stepped into that lift.

A well-crafted lie.

Does he really think I’m that stupid? What kind of fucking game is he playing?

I fling the folder, sending papers flying as they slam into the wall and drift to the floor. I’m not letting this bastard tell me what to do. His opinions. Not my reality.

His truth can suck it.

Closing my eyes, I try to clear my mind and block out the death surrounding me.

It doesn’t work.

The stench grows stronger the longer I sit here. I know it’s all in my head. A body doesn’t decay that fast. But my mind won’t let it go. It fixates. On the smell. On the bodies.

On the damn folder Rurik shoved under the door.

Which is why he did it.

He put me in here, knowing it would wear me down. That I’d do just about anything to escape this and focus on something else.

He’s playing a waiting game. Counting on my curiosity, that nagging itch for answers… to win.

I seriously hate him right now.

Fucking prick.

Peeking through half-open eyes, I notice a chaotic array of papers strewn across the floor in front of me. Irritation flares, and I kick my leg out, sending them shifting even farther. Most landed upside down.