Page 44

Derek. The warehouse. The men at the bar. I swallow. No. There's no way this was an accident. He planned this, he had to. There are monsters in the world, I accepted it. But not this many. I won't believe it, I refuse.

"Derek…" I can barely say his name without the stabbing pain of sickness hitting my stomach.

"You didn't come home. I'd watched you for months, and you didn't come home to me."

This was always going to happen. It didn't matter about the bar, the drugging, the men. He was always going to claim me.

But maybe Rosa wouldn't have been taken, too.

I fight back the tears. Don't think of her. Not here, not in front of him. I can't afford to give him something else he can use against me. He already has my will, my body. My whole life.

I won't let him use her, too.

"How did you find me?" My throat feels so dry the words barely come out. I shift, his hand gripping tighter against mine.

"Derek has been a supplier of mine for years. I tell him what I'm looking for, and he comes through." His fingers move to my face. Please don't let him touch me, I can't take it. His touch is gentle, worshipping. It's confusing my very core.

He doesn't stop. His thumb lands on my cheek, caressing my skin slow and tender. I don't think he'll ever stop. "I couldn't believe when I saw it was you, Amora. Your face, your curls…" His fingers loop around a loose strand of hair. My lips part, eyes wide as my heart almost escapes my chest. "I had to have you."

I'm almost in a trance. His words, his touch. Everything about him, it would be easy to feel disgusted if he didn't look the way he did, if he looked like Derek or Percy, but he doesn't. And it makes everything so much worse. Because after everything he's done, he still makes my body react, and I hate him. For what he did to Hailee, what he's doing for me. But in this moment, I'll never hate anyone as much as myself.

In the midst of my anger, I think back to the conversation last night. He said he didn't know where Rosa was, he didn't know who she was, either. Yet, he's followed me for six months. He bought me from the same guy who has Rosa.

It hits hard and fucking painful. All this time, I thought I was manipulating him, but it was him pulling the puppet strings all along. He lied. He fucking lied. My body tenses under his touch, the trance he'd had me stupidly fixed in breaking as soon as the revelation sunk in.

You almost had me. Almost.

"You said you don't know where my sister is." I don't hide the coldness in my voice. I want him to know that I know.

"I don't." His lips turn into a smile, eyes dark enough to hide every thought. I almost bite back, but something in his face tells me it's better to keep quiet. We stay like that for a moment, one that feels like eternity, and with every second that passes, I'm sure he's going to kiss me—but he doesn't. I've never thanked God more in my life for sparing me the taste of his lips again. He pushes himself back up, moving slowly away, his hand fixing his tie like he always does.

Control freak.

"Now you know why you're here and how, is there anything else you'd like to ask?"

My teeth graze my bottom lip. For the first time since being here, I'm getting a choice, and I don't know what to do with it. What do I ask? My mind hasn't even processed the information he's freely given.

"Well?" he pushes, impatience flickering across his face.

Nothing comes. My mind is blank as I stare at him.

I can't think. I don't know what to say. There's too much to say.

My mind is stuck back, six months ago. The Art Museum loud in my head, the feel of paint on my fingers. I don't remember him. I don't think I even saw him.

"Have you seen that guy in the suit?" Jasmine's voice comes out of nowhere. I frown at the memory.

"The one splashing cash? Yeah, he's a little hard to ignore—have you seen him?" Dahlia's voice joins in excitedly.

"I'd ride him for free, I swear."

The girls laugh as they walk past.

I remember turning, looking around to see who they were talking about, but I never did—and now I know. It was him.

The hums from the tanks pull me back into the present, where Vincent sits opposite me, his gaze lingering on my face as he waits for me to finally speak.

"Have you always lived in the manor?" It's the first thing I think of. I don't know what else to ask, every part of me still stuck in the past.