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There it was, the blackened dagger with the needle tip.
He turned with the knife, looking down at me with heat in his eyes, the way a man looks at a lover. His strong jaw was even more pronounced with a five-o’clock shadow. He looked almost love-drunk.
My hands weren’t bound, but the moment I shifted in my chair, Don was beside me, pulling off my jacket, seizing the thin cotton of my shirt and rubbing the dagger against it until the fabric tore. He ripped a line up my shirt, rending it in two.
“I’ll tell you a secret.” His voice was low. “All this time away has made me needy.” He pressed his lips to my chest; I felt the heat of his mouth on my skin when he spoke. “Did you ever guess one day I’d fall on my knees foryou?”
The words were intoxicating, each a little cup of wine. Eight years ago, I would have drunk them until I was senseless.
“You need me,” I murmured into his hair. “Because you’re nothing without us.”
He leaned back and grinned, placing the point of the pugio in the dip of my collarbone and dragging down, drawing a razor-thin line of blood between my breasts. The tip of the dagger came to rest against the underwire that held my bra together. “I love you and your games,” he murmured. “Running away, telling your teachers I’m a bad man, showing up unannounced after years. What will you think of next?”
“You used to say I was pathetic, but you were the pathetic one. Just as desperate for validation as us.” My throat was raw. “You did everything to make us think we couldn’t live without you. You knew that’s the only way we’d follow you. You were a parasite.”
“Look what I did.” Don flung his hand at the ceiling. Above us, music swelled, and raucous applause broke out. “I built you a kingdom. I’m remaking the world. I’m close, and once I’m there, you can have it, too. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”
“Youusedme.” The words flew from me. “I wanted affection, and you preyed on me.”
“No.” He pointed the pugio at the line of blood bisecting my heart. “You soughtmeout.Youwere obsessed withme. When do you think the idea for the Paters first came to me? Not with Rachel—withyou. The little feminist beauty queen. If I could getyouto fall to your knees, who else? How far could I take it? You opened a world of possibility.”
“Youtorturedme.” I choked on the words.
“Don’t rewrite history,” he said. “Don’t twist what happened between us because you went out into the world and someone made you feel ashamed. You begged me to be with you.”
Hot tears tracked down my cheeks. “That doesn’t mean it was right.”
“Come back to me,” he said. “We’re on the verge of something. The entire reason I built the Paters is coming together as we speak. You’re back in time to see us make history. We’re going to rise up and take back our country, piece by piece.”
“Fuck you,” I said, hands shaking.
“Come back and be mine.”
A strangled sound came from the staircase. Laurel stepped out from the dark, her eyes bloodshot, mascara making twin tracks down her cheeks, her too-thin figure wrapped in an ice-blue ballgown fit for a queen. She stared at him. “After everything?”
The minute Don turned to her, I lunged from the chair and ran to the wooden chest, shoving my hands inside and pulling out the first thing my fingers touched: the smooth handle of a hatchet, surprisingly heavy. I gripped it in both hands and held it out in front of me.
Don and Laurel froze.
“Laurel,” I said sharply, stepping closer to the stairs. “You heard him. Don, Nico, whatever his name is—he’s a fake. He doesn’t care about you.”
Don blinked for a second at the weapon in my hands; then a grin spread over his face. “The old Norse battle-ax. God does have a sense of humor.” He turned to Laurel. “You know who I am. What I’ve done for you. You know my heart better than anyone. Don’t let her manipulate you.”
“He’s the one manipulating.” I edged closer to the staircase and Laurel tensed, looking back and forth between us. “What he’s doing to you and the other women isn’t right. It’s torture. He’s sick, Laurel, and he’s making you sick, too. What would your father say?”
She made that strangled sound again.
“What would he say if he saw you being treated this way?” I knew I was fighting dirty, but I had to win. “Leave with me.Please.”
Don put his hands up in surrender. “I’ll show you how much I trust you.” He walked to her, and she shrunk back like a kicked dog.
“Get away—” I started, but he handed Laurel the dagger, hilt first. “Take it,” he said. “You have the power now. Total free will.”
She snatched the knife and glanced at me, eyes tracking over my torn shirt, the long cut down my chest.
I pulled the ripped pieces together. “I know it’s hard to leave him. Trust me. But listen to that voice of doubt. That’s your sanity, your survival instincts. Deep down you know what Don’s doing isn’t right.”
She wavered, biting her lip. “The Paters are done for,” I said, pressing my hand. “Any minute now. We’re going to put them away.”
