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She walks toward me—each step deliberate and strong.
I hold her gaze, refusing to drop my head or even blink. I don’t know how much time I have left on this earth, but I’m not going to spend a second of it not loving her. Even if I can’t tell her yet, and even if she’s going to hate me for the rest of her life.
She stops just in front of me—staring at me with an intensity I’ve never seen on her face before. But I can’t read her mind. I don’t know what she’s trying to tell me, or if she’s even trying to tell me anything. I’m just delusional. All she wants to tell me is how much she hates me.
She looks past me and holds out her hand. I can’t turn my head to see what she’s asking for.
“Why did you kill Kit?” she asks.
She waits, but I don’t say anything.
She shakes her head. “You’re really not going to tell me? Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”
I don’t say anything. There is nothing I could say right now to help her, and if she needs to be angry, to get revenge in order to survive her pain, then that’s the only way I can help her. I don’t know why I killed Kit. And even if I did, the explanation won’t help her—the anger will. She needs to be furious until she can handle her grief.
I see what’s in her hand a second before she thrusts the metal tip into my chest.
“I’ll leave this here until you remember,” she hisses into my ear.
She turns and walks away, leaving the knife in my chest. Even though she’s literally going to be the death of me, I think I love her even more.
Chapter 2
Rialta
My hand trembles as I walk away from Lennox, but I don’t look back. And I do everything I can to stop thinking as I walk up the basement stairs. When I reach the top, light floods me as I open the door and step into the main kitchen of Andrea’s mansion.
I’m shaking with every step, and I’m about to pass out. All I want to do is flee upstairs to the bedroom Andrea assigned me and sleep. Unconsciousness is the only way to escape my grief.
I try not to think about him, but it’s impossible. He was the love of my life. He was my everything. And...
“You okay, Rialta?” Andrea asks from behind me. Several of his men come into the kitchen from the stairs and watch us closely. I find that Andrea always has an audience, and therefore so do I.
I silently nod, not trusting my words at this moment.
He studies me closely. “You were incredibly strong down there. Most women wouldn’t want to watch, let alone participate in the gory parts of the job.”
I glare at him. “Right. Us women folk are meek and sensitive and can’t handle getting our hands dirty. We need tough men to do that for us.”
Andrea smiles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend your gender. I was just stating facts as I know them.”
“Then you know nothing. The reason most women in our world don’t participate is because you men decide we can’t handle it.”
“I said I’m sorry and I meant it. I was just trying to compliment you and let you know that if you don’t want to participate, you don’t have to. My men and I can get revenge and answers. You don’t have to be there unless you want to.”
“I want to,” I scowl.
He nods. “Then you shall be.”
I start to walk, but my legs give out, and I stumble.
Andrea catches me. “You should eat something. Torturing someone definitely works up an appetite.”
Food is the last thing I want, but I nod and let Andrea lead me into the dining room.
He pulls out a chair for me near the end of the table, and I sit before he scoots me in. Then he sits at the head of the table, next to me, as his men fill into the remaining chairs of the long table.
A moment later, his servants are bringing out trays of food. The table is quickly filled with mountains and mountains of food, but all of it makes my stomach curl.
