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His gaze flickers down to my abdomen and he winces, then tears his eyes away. “You haven’t eaten,” he observes, gesturing with his head to the tray on the desk that I’ve started scratching symbols into to pass the time.
“I wasn’t hungry.”
He’s lost weight. Lots of it, it seems—an improbable amount for only two weeks of time. His shirts droop loosely from his shoulders like he’s nothing but a coat hanger with legs. Even his voice sounds hollow and emaciated.
“Do you need anything?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Is that a trick question?”
He sighs. “Like vitamins or something. I can get them to you if you tell me what you need.”
“What I need is to visit my doctor. I need to have a check-up. I’ve been having some cramping and?—”
“I can’t take you out of here, Wren.”
“I have preeclampsia!” I lie in a sudden manic fit of inspiration. “This is a high-risk pregnancy. I need my doctor’s support if I’m going to deliver this baby safely.”
He eyes me somberly, not blinking even once. I wish he’d say something, but he doesn’t.
My voice drops to a low quiver. “Please, Cian. I know you. You’re not a monster. Just take me to see my doctor. You can stay with me the entire time. I’ll behave.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
To my surprise, he uses the wall as a crutch and lowers himself down to a seat on the floor. He winces and mutters under his breath as he moves, like every little action pains him. I note the scab under his eye where I clawed him after he told me Bee was dead. Most of the mark has faded, but there is still some light purple bruising. It’s nice, strangely enough, to have a visual reminder that I can still do damage if I choose.
I’m not helpless; I’m not powerless.
There’s a strange scent coming off him. Stale, bitter. Hell, maybe that’s just what desperation smells like. I would know, wouldn’t I?
Although, what exactly he has to be desperate about, I have no freaking clue. He’s the one with all the cards up his sleeve. But he acts as though he’s just as much of a prisoner as I am.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you don’t get to play the victim when you have all the power?” I snap suddenly, unable to bear the wheezing pressure of the silent room.
His eyes float up to mine and he stays quiet for a little while longer. Then he snorts through his nose without cracking a smile. “Nobody has any power, Wren. None of us do.”
I frown. His eyes aren’t quite right, in a way I can’t explain. It’s not that he’s drunk or high or delirious—at least, I don’t think so. Lost in his own sadness, perhaps. I bet I don’t look so different.
But this isn’t like any of the conversations we’ve had before. So, sensing an opportunity, I inch down to the carpet and sit across from him with my back against the bedpost. It goes against every instinct to get close to my prison warden, but I make myself go anyway.
Just see what happens next, suggests the voice in my head. Find out what’s changed.
Cian watches me warily, though he doesn’t retreat. I drop my head to ease the tension and toy with the ragged edges of the carpet.
“Do you remember the night you and Jared went away on that fishing weekend?” I ask suddenly. He stares at me blankly. “You told us you caught a bunch of fish, but they smelled so bad on the way back that you dumped them on the side of the road.”
His eyes widen. Then he sighs. “It wasn’t a fishing trip, Wren.” I wrinkle my nose as his breath catches up to me.
Amendment to my earlier observation: he’s definitely drunk.
“It wasn’t?”
He shakes his head. “We were gambling. He lost ten grand playing craps and he was deadset on staying. We gotta stay, man. Gotta keep going. Rose needs this. He swore he’d make it back.”
My nose wrinkles up. “Jared wasn’t a gambler.”
“How do you think we met?” he asks with a pitying look in my direction. “How do you think they paid for IVF, Wren? Doctors aren’t cheap. Jared managed a bar and Rose was a paralegal. You think they just had a money tree in their backyard?”
I pull my legs up and rest my chin on my knees, if only to keep my lip from wobbling out of control. “So you knew he was desperate and you decided to point him in the direction of your thug brother.”
