Page 101 of Dark Night of the Soul

“No,” I said. “You didn’t.”

“I broke his arm. Like snapping a twig.” Her voice caught, the words raw and uneven. “I didn’t like the way it felt. It was too easy.”

She glanced down at her hands clenched tight in her lap.

“That was the programming,” I said. “You’re not supposed to like it.”

And when the day came that she did—when it stopped bothering her at all—I wasn’t sure what that would make her capable of.

She was quiet for a time. Then asked, “Do you think he’ll come?”

“Yes.”

And we’d be waiting.

Because some doors, once opened, only closed one way.

Chapter 32 | Anna

Three days since the facility. Three days since I’d broken a man’s arm without hesitation. Three days since I’d left that message for Vormund and walked away while his research burned.

I should have been thinking about that. About what it meant that the violence had come so easily. About whether Vormund had gotten the message. About what would happen when he came for me.

I knew what I was doing—using this obsession to avoid thinking about that—but I couldn’t seem to stop.

And I’d been obsessing about it for days. Days. Like I couldn’t stop thinking about it to the point that I was actively trying to stop thinking about it and failing fabulously. And if he was listening to my thoughts at any point, then he would know how much I was obsessing and that was not okay.

But I couldn’t stop. I was at the point where I was imagining different scenarios and none of them were working. And I didn’t know how this was going to go down.

We were out of whiskey, so there was no getting any liquid courage, either.

So, I told myself to chill out and forget it because it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon anyway, especially with my brain deciding intense emotions were a threat.

I heaved an exasperated sigh.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

I hadn’t realized the sigh was so… loud.

“Nothing,” I said and flushed to the roots of my hair.

Perhaps I was still running high on adrenaline after leaving a message for Vormund and my hormones had decided now was the time.

His gaze flickered up from the table where he was studying the next facility map, one brow lifted, and I knew that look. He was about to call me out on my lie.

Sometimes, I disliked his internal lie detector.

But he didn’t. Instead, he said, “It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

I finished eating and snatched up my plate. “I’m restless, that’s all.”

Restless. Actively trying not to think about what he looked like without a shirt. Or anything else. My mouth went dry.

“Why are you staring at me?”

Oh, shit. I hadn’t realized I stopped to stare.

I flushed and walked into the kitchen, trying to act casual and ignore my traitorous thoughts that were determined to get me into bed. With him.