The cheers from before are no more.
There’s petulant quiet as a thousand eyes take in the blood on our foreheads. More men than I realized. So many, many, many more.
And then, in a move that has to be choreographed, every single one of them, aside from the men surrounding us on the ground, sweep onto their knees.
If this were a nightmare, this would be where I wake up.
But, unfortunately, I don’t.
Like before, there’s a banquet.
Like before, I’m half in a trance as I struggle not to scream, struggle not to weep, struggle not to rush to the nearest bathroom and wipe the blood off my face, grateful only for the brother who steps forward and presses a bandage to our wounds.
Neither Wynter nor I speak a single word to anyone.
Not even when we realize Alec’s tending to our wounds.
We simply eat what is placed in front of us.
Drink what is served to us.
We lift our goblets when a toast is made, and eventually, we slip into the same town car that brought us to this hellhole of our own making.
This is, without a shadow of a doubt, the worst night of my life. Maybe more so because I asked for this.
“It can only get better from here,” Wynter whispers in response.
Fuck, I spoke those words aloud.
My mouth, drier than the Gobi Desert, permits me to croak out, “Can it?”
SIXTY-FIVE
I WILL ALWAYS HAVE YOUR BACK, KATYONOK
Unknown Number: As a favor to us, would your husband see reason and permit Brothers Bordeau and Harrington their freedom?
I gritmy teeth at the text message, an order couched as a request.
Victoria turned hysterical the moment she got home, shrouded in a black velvet cloak, clutching at a book in one arm and weeping over a bandaged wound on the other.
“Make sure the house is empty,” she begged me.
And I obeyed.
Then, she grabbed me, in a surprisingly ferocious hold, dragged me into a hug, and, into my ear, whispered, “Can you make sure there are no cameras or listening devices?”
If she hadn’t looked so desperate, I’d have told her the house had been swept earlier.
Instead, I watched as she closed all the drapes in our bedroom and darted over to the bathroom to vomit, giving me time to accede to her wishes.
The only device was in the book she brought with her.
I pointed to it and she stared at it with wide, horrified eyes.
Once I calmed her down after she burst into tears, I showered with her, tended to her, then got her into bed after I encouraged her to take a Valium.
She accepted the drug, then gestured at the book before whisperingsoftly in my ear, so quietly I almost couldn’t hear it, “One chance to read it. Never again. The risk is too great.”
