Page 36

The girls, they're going back to the cells. Oh, thank God, they're alive.

"Have the chambers on the recruit wing arranged for tomorrow." His voice is final as he ends the call, placing the phone down once more.

I shift in my seat, just knowing the girls will be back waiting fills me with the smallest warmth. Somehow they've survived whatever he'd done to them. I want to be with them, to be safe behind the metal. To see they're okay with my own eyes.

I sit straighter, my hands twisting in front of me. "I'd like to return to the cells, too." My words come out thin. "Please."

He doesn't answer right away, just flicks his gaze over me, then away.

"You're so eager for a cage, Amora," he says. There's a small laugh, almost like he's enjoying this. "But I decide when you go."

I stare at the floor, tracing the edge of a stain in the carpet with my toe. I feel exposed, like the snakes behind the glass with nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape. He leans forward, elbows on the desk, watching me. "Oh, sweet girl. Don't look so disappointed." His voice drops, softer, but it isn't kindness. A smile tugs at his lips, slow and deliberate.

"I know it might take a little time, but you'll soon enjoy my visits…"

My stomach twists. I doubt that very much. I don't look up.

"Ace," he calls out. I hear the shift from behind the door and the creak as it opens. Ace takes a step in, his jaw tight as he waits in the threshold, a stray strand of hair covering his eyes.

"Take Amora back to her cell." He nods to Ace, a small smile on his face as he drinks me in for the last time, his tongue grazes his bottom lip. I see the want in his eyes, the way that with every blink they get hungrier. "Until next time, my love."

A shudder runs through me as I move quickly to the door. Ace doesn't speak, and I'm so glad. I'll be back with the girls soon. He falls quickly into step behind me, and I don't hesitate to move, every part of me eager to leave the room that felt so suffocating. I can still feel his eyes on me, every look full of possession and want. I try to brush it away.

The hallway is quiet other than the staff wandering into different rooms, the smell of bleach and pine overpowering. Ace takes hold of my upper arm and leads me through the hall. Our pace is slow, but matched.

"You're still mad, aren't you? About before," he says through gritted teeth.

Mad? I'm devastated—but not at him. Well, partially at him, but more so by the fact that my entire life for the last six months has been violated. Every moment, every laugh—every fucking coffee run has been tainted by Vincent and his preying eyes. I start to wonder how long it would have taken before he finally stole me. I just wish it hadn't been that night, that he'd only taken me. I know he said he doesn't know Rosa, but there's no way, right? He's been watching my flat, he'd have known she exists. Is this all part of a trick? Another lie? Or is it genuine? He's so hard to read, I have no idea.

"No. I'm not mad," I reply, glancing at the paintings that hang on every wall. They're old, soft watercolours of flowers and vases. They don't belong here, just like me.

"Listen, if I could help, I would. But I can't." He continues trying to make himself feel better with some shitty excuse, and I cut him off. I'm too tired for bullshit tonight.

"I don't care," I say dryly, but then I think of the others. Maybe he knows if they are okay. My voice softens slightly, just enough to show him that I'm not mad, even if inside I'm still burning.

"Have you seen the others?"

He grinds his teeth, his face never relaxing from the scowl. I don't know if he'll answer or whether he'll tell me the truth. I keep looking, searching for any sign of hope. "The blonde one." His voice is clipped, his palms sweating against the flesh of my arm where he's holding. His touch is gentler than the others who've dragged me through these halls.

"Annabelle." My body relaxes at the thought of being reunited with her. I don't know if it's because she's a kid or if I saw something in her that reminded me of Rosa that made me feel so connected to her.

"She spent the night with one of Vincent's friends." He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. "He isn't as bad as the rest. She'll live."

I stop in my tracks, eyes wide as I stare at him. He'd said it without a second thought, almost like it was normal here.

Maybe it is. But to me, it's fucking sick.

"She spent the night with…" I can't finish my sentence. It's too much. Too sick. "She's just a child, a tiny girl." The hurt spills out, the image of her in my mind—small, blonde locks and her tiny button nose. I squeeze hard as a darker image tries so desperately to crawl in.

Ace stands beside me, his eyes burning into me. I look up, matching his gaze. "I…" His lips part, eyes in a frown as his shoulders sag. "We need to move." He tugs against my arm, grip a little tighter, his lips in a thin line.

"Why do you do this?"

His head spins to look at my face, eyes studying me like he's never been asked this question before.

"Because it's my job."

"I understand that, but why?"