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"You should." His footsteps were too quiet as he moved towards his desk. "I think you would come to sympathize with my purpose if you understood it."
My insides churned when he pulled out a feather, fear coursing through me. "No," I whispered.
He held it up to the light, inspecting it. "It's incredible, isn't it? How something so soft can cause so much pain." He held it towards me. "I know this particular one is your favorite. I saved it, just for our little reunion."
I wanted to sob as he walked towards me, my eyes glued to it. I shook my head. "No. Please. Don't." My heart pounded, sweat pouring down my face, and pooling under my arms and down my back.
"He was so arrogant, even at such a young age." He ignored my pleas, back to talking about Knight. "He watched us that night, and did nothing."
“When you first met me?”
“No,” he scoffed, “You’re not paying attention. The night I met Knight.”
I didn't understand him. “What happened?” I tried to change the subject, to distract him from the feather.
“We were near the sea, close to our old home in Cuba. You remember that house, don't you?”
“Yes.” My voice stuttered.
“Of course you do,” Sitting next to me, he brushed the back of his hand gently across my cheek. “We had some really great memories there, didn't we?” He pulled a small container from his pocket.
I didn't answer him; my chest moved up and down with each breath as panic filled me, my eyes fixated on the container.
“Do you have any idea how it felt for me to sit there with the man who killed my father?” He was all over the place now, not making any sense at all.
“I-I'm so sorry,” I attempted to say but he shook his head, his gaze darkening.
“No. You're not. But you will be.” Unscrewing the lid, he dipped the feather in the fine powder. Particles of it floated through the air, the pungent smell filling my nose and setting my senses on fire.
I couldn't breathe.
I was drowning, drowning in a sea of anxiety.
Snot began to drain from my nose and his gaze darkened.
"Disgusting girl," Pulling out a handkerchief, he wiped at it roughly, rubbing my skin almost raw. "Now, are you going to behave?"
"I'll never behave," I snarled. "As long as I live, I will never do what you want."
"And yet, I always get what I want in the end, don't I?"
"Even when I almost killed you?"
He chuckled, a glimmer in his eyes. "Ah, your little attempt to take me out. That was quite amusing. It was actually quite a proud moment for me."
"What?"
"Yes. Can you imagine? To create something out of nothing? I took a weak woman and turned her into something fierce and strong." A thumb brushed over my cheek lovingly, then his nail dug into it, scraping downward, drawing blood. "Until you grew weak again. Soft. The Tatiana I created wouldn't tremble at the sight of a feather." His eyes shuttered; they were cold and hard again. "Now," he said, "we'll start the training again."
"Now?" I managed to choke out, my body trembling involuntarily.
"I've waited long enough! Do you think for one moment I would hold off on my greatest creation?" He dipped the feather in the powder and my heart pounded so quickly, that I thought it was going to burst from my chest. Once again, my nose began to drain from the scent filling my nose.
He sighed heavily as he scooted closer. "I guess I'll tolerate it this one time. I know it's been a while, and your body needs to readjust." There was a trickle of a smile at the edges of his lips that he tried unsuccessfully to suppress. Though he tried to pretend otherwise, he was enjoying my reaction.
But then his gaze darkened. "This wouldn't be happening if you hadn't left me, Tatiana."
"But," I tried to stall him, "What about your men? Don't you care what happens out there? They could burst in here at any moment."
