Page 93 of Captive Ruin

He sits me on the edge of the bed, and touches the ice pack to my cheek. I hiss at the contact.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “Your painkillers are in the bathroom, right?”

“Yes…” Did I ever mention that?

“Hold this.” He puts my hand on the ice pack. “I’ll be right back.”

I watch him walk into the kitchen, pick a glass out of the cupboard and fill it with water. I’m here alone with a man who’s just killed two others right in front of me, after torturing one of them. A man who’s held me in this very bed, fucked me in this very bed.

And now he’s bringing me painkillers and a drink.

What do I make of that?

What would’ve happened if he hadn’t come?

Those men were perfectly clear when they told me what Serranto had in mind. On our last call, he all but told me I’d be on my knees within a week, both figuratively and literally.

This is what he had planned.

Maybe Van Wyk killed him after he sent these men. Maybe Van Wyk is lying, and he hasn’t killed him at all—but I don’t think that’s true.

If Van Wyk hadn’t come, would Lucy and I be forced to be ‘obedient little sluts’ for that bastard of a man?

Van Wyk comes out of the bathroom with the glass of water and two pills in his hand. He passes them to me, and I take them without asking, swallowing some water to wash them down.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“Of course.”

“Not just for the pills. For coming.”

He nods slowly. “I only wish I’d been here sooner.”

A metallic gleam catches my eye from the top of my dresser. I can’t think what it would be. It looks like it’s buried in the wood, but they’ve smashed it open. A screw wouldn’t gleam like that.

I push myself up, frowning, taking a step closer. It’s not just metal, it’s glass, too. A perfect circle, exposed by a gash in the top. I pick at it, pulling it out. There’s a cable running off the back of it, snagging on something in the dresser.

I know at once what I’m holding. It’s a camera.

My legs go unsteady again, and I grip the wall for support.

Why the hell is there a camera embedded in my dresser?

The dresser that faces my bed?

I turn to look at Van Wyk. He’s watching me, expression inscrutable.

What was it he said to me last night?

“Even when I’m not with you, I fill your thoughts and dreams.”

And stupidly, I thought he was bluffing.

Then this evening. “I wasn’t planning on coming, but…”

He saw them. That’s how he knew. That’s how he knows where everything is in this apartment. Where I put my gun. Where the bullets were.

And he had keys.