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Colton took slow, deliberate steps to the lower floor. Serena would hear him coming, recognize the difference in the sound, and know that he had arrived to deal with her. He hadn’t seen her since her shameful display three days ago. And though anger still fiercely burned within him, he would temper it with fair judgment. Just as a good leader should.

Her punishment had been unique to who Serena was and what he knew about her. He had watched her on camera from time to time to see how she was faring in her cell and had to admit that he had been surprised at her behavior. For three days and three nights, she’d done nothing more than stare at the wall. When her meager meals had arrived, she hadn’t acknowledged the guard who’d brought them. She had eaten them, which pleased him. The meals were deliberately tasteless and uninspired. Cheese sandwiches on stale bread, over-ripe fruit, and bottled water. He didn’t want her to starve, but she did need to understand that her status had changed in drastic ways. She would have to earn back his respect. As furious as he was, he imagined that could take months, if not years.

Till then, though, she still had a job to do. And so did he. The humiliation he’d suffered was never far from his mind. Jenson Mosley had gotten his revenge in the most effective way possible. The man was dead, and while there was nothing he’d like better than to annihilate Jenson’s entire family as retribution, it would not go over well with the council. That avenue was closed.

He had yet to come up with a solution to getting back into their good graces. There had to be a way. All was not lost—he refused to consider that all his hard work was for naught. For right now, though, he’d keep his head down and do what they’d told him to do, which was get his house in order.

It would start with this visit with Serena. He had some new ground rules to implement. If she knew what was good for her, she’d comply. Smith’s death, if nothing else, had taught her a lesson in disobedience.

Not only had she broken his nose and blackened his eyes with her little tirade, she had embarrassed him in front of his soldiers and guests. That a mere woman, small and insignificant in both size and importance, would be able to attack him was one thing. The bruises would heal, as would his nose. The possible irreparable harm she’d done to his authority was the most egregious. If he lost the respect of the household, any chance of repairing his reputation within the organization would be almost impossible.

He reached the bottom of the stairway and immediately noted the stench of an unwashed body. That was another part of her punishment. Not only had she been stripped down to her underwear, she had been denied the opportunity to cleanse herself. He knew Serena was a neat, modest person. The double humiliation was another effective part of her punishment.

She didn’t look up when he approached her cell, just continued looking at the wall she’d been staring at for three days. That right there told him she had a long way to go before she would be earning her way back upstairs.

“Good afternoon, Serena,” Colton said. “We have much to discuss, but before we begin, I believe you owe me an apology.”

She looked at him then, and instead of the regret and embarrassment she should be feeling, he saw only contempt.

He released a huff of frustration. “I see that your days down here have had little impact on your attitude. You need to know that you’re not going to get any special considerations from me until you issue an apology. Then, and only then, will you be allowed some of the amenities you once enjoyed.”

Fire blazed in her eyes, and she snarled, “You can take your amenities and shove them up—” She stopped abruptly and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the anger was gone. All that was left was sorrow. She whispered hoarsely, “Why did you kill him?”

Colton held back a sigh. He hadn’t intended to kill the man. Smith had been one of his most valued servants, and in all honesty, it was going to be difficult to replace him. Smith had been able to bond with everyone and had made Colton’s job much easier.

The shooting had been spontaneous. On the trip back from LA, all he’d been able to think about was the humiliation he had endured. Both events that he’d been punished for had been instigated by one person—Serena Donavan. She seemed to be the root cause of all his troubles. When he had arrived back at the compound and had seen her looking so pristine and calm, so poised and serene, he had been infuriated. Pulling his gun out and shooting her had just felt right. But then Smith had stepped in front of her and had said his name. As if he was actually protecting her. As if he was reprimanding Colton. In an instant, his wrath had turned on Smith, and the man had paid the price for his interference.

All in all, it hadn’t been Colton’s finest moment. But what was done was done. He’d gotten over it. She would have to as well.

He saw no problem, however, in sharing what had precipitated the event.

“Dr. Mosley is dead.”

“What?” she whispered. “Did you kill him, too?”

“Ha! If only,” Colton snarled. “He was to perform lifesaving surgery on a very important man. He instead decided to be petty and killed himself. The man he was supposed to save died as well.”

She nodded slowly. “And you blame me.”

“If you hadn’t been here, Dr. Mosley would never have signaled for your help. Then his mother would not have died, and he would have done what he was told to do.”

She stared at him for the longest time, and even though she was behind bars, with bruises marring her face and body, her eyes glowed with disdain and contempt. “You’re a monster.”

The fury he’d felt before was returning. Meeting her glare with his own, he barked, “What I choose to do or not to do is not your concern. I decide who lives or dies in this house. You’d do well to remember that.”

Instead of giving him the respect he deserved, she turned her back to him.

“You’re very arrogant for someone who hasn’t showered or brushed her teeth in three days. Apologize, and I’ll arrange for a private shower. You can have fresh clothes and even a warm meal. All you have to do is tell me you’re sorry.”

She remained stubbornly quiet, and his anger increased. He wouldn’t torture her as he had her husband. He wanted her healthy enough to continue her work. But all the luxuries she had enjoyed before were now gone. Even if she apologized to him, she would never regain what she’d had before.

Backing away, he said, “Very well. You will, however, be required to continue your work. A small packet of supplies will be delivered to you since I doubt you’ll give me your best work in your current condition. But that’s the only concession you’ll receive from me.”

He left the basement even more frustrated. But that was no matter. She would do what she was told, or he would kill her. He would extend his goodwill and patience only so far. She would comply or else.

A few hours later, a soldier opened Serena’s cell door and threw a bag onto the floor. “Boss said to clean up. Your work assignment will be here in an hour.”

Serena snagged the bag with her foot and pulled it toward her on the bench. Her interest in cleaning up was low. That would likely surprise anyone who knew her. For someone who often showered twice a day and brushed and flossed religiously, the fact that she didn’t care about hygiene was telling. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this way.