Page 163

It pissed me off because none of it made sense. She was Amelia. The girl I’d sworn I hated. The girl I’d spent years turning into the villain because my father needed one. Now my body kept betraying me, leaning toward her like she was warmth in a cold world.

I rubbed my palms together, trying to ground myself. My hands were rough, scabbed, dirty. I looked like a man who belonged in cages.

Her voice came out small, hoarse. “How long do you think it’s been?”

Since what? Since sunlight? Since the last time we heard a step on the stairs? Or sinceanyone gave a fuck that we were alive?

I flexed my fingers, feeling pins and needles up my arm. “I stopped counting.”

Lie. I always counted.

She picked at a splinter in the wood, eyes jumping to the far wall, anywhere but me. “You think he’s coming back?”

I snorted. “Bet on it.”

She made a sound, almost a laugh, but not really. It was too watery, too thin. “You’re optimistic.”

“Just realistic. Guys like him don’t leave things unfinished.” I let my head knock back against the wall, the jolt echoing in my jaw. “He likes the game too much.”

Her jaw tightened.

I could see her throat working, the way she swallowed hard, like maybe the words hurt. She wrapped her arms tighter. Shaking.

I watched. Couldn’t look away. Even when I wanted to. It was like a sickness.

The awful part? I wanted to cross to her, pull her over to my side of the glass, tell her it wouldn’t happen again. That was the lie I’d want to tell. But if I was over there, I might hurt her. I was always better at hurting. My father made sure I was good at it.

So I leaned back and let the meanness run the show.

“Figured you’d be used to this kind of thing by now,” I said. “You were always good at being pathetic.”

Her head snapped up. For a second, the fear was gone, replaced by that old fire. The hate she had for me, the one thing that tied us together.

She bared her teeth like a cornered animal. “If I’m so pathetic, why are you stuck here too?” Her voice wavered, but she went on. “Not so tough now, are you?”

I grinned, all teeth. “Tough enough to not cry about it.”

Her lips pressed together. I’d hit a nerve.

Good.

She looked away, shoulders curled forward, breathing slow and deliberate. Counting, maybe. Trying to regain control.

I stretched my legs again, this time pressing the heel of my boot into the edge of the glass barrier between us. It thudded, cold and hollow. I liked the sound. I liked the way it made her flinch.

“Do you ever…” She hesitated. “Never mind.”

I cocked my head. “Say it.”

She glared, but it was weak. “Do you ever think about… what happens next?”

I shrugged, lazy. “Doesn’t matter. We get out or we don’t.”

She was quiet for a long time. The kind of quiet that might’ve meant something if we weren’t half-dead in a basement.

Finally, she muttered, “You really don’t care, do you?”

I wanted to laugh. Or scream. I wanted to bash my head against the wall until the feeling went away.