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I just hope Saint understands.
Ingrid eventually pulls away, her trembling fingers wiping her mouth. Saint’s chest rises and falls, his staggered breathing labored and pained. His head is bowed. I need him to look at me, to assure me that it’ll, thatwe’ll,be okay.
But he doesn’t.
Oscar hums in victory. “You will break. And so will he,” he ominously promises, ordering the guards to take Saint away.
The fight in him is gone as he allows them to lead him through the curtain, never turning back.
Day 96
IRETURNED TOmy prison cell and cried myself into oblivion. It was peaceful there, a place where I didn’t have to face deplorable acts that tainted my very soul. But I couldn’t stay there forever because I will not allow this hell to break me.
Once upon a time, Saint was strong for me, and now, I must do the same for him.
Being surrounded by nothing but four walls without a lick of daylight is another form of torture. I feel like I’m going crazy. I’ve paced this cage countless times, hoping Pavel pulls some Russian spy shit and somersaults through the ceiling with a helicopter in tow.
But no one is here to save me. That wasn’t part of the plan. I knew this was going to be tough, but I was not prepared for the things I’ve seen.
Running a hand through my snarled hair, I wonder how long Oscar intends to keep me locked in here. Cabin fever has kicked in, and I need out. Not to mention, I can’t remember the last time I ate. Unable to stand it any longer, I race to the door and bang on it.
“Hey! Let me out!” I scream, my thumping growing louder.
No surprise, my request is ignored, but I’ve got nothing but time and anger, so I continue pounding and screaming.
Just when I think I will be forced to do this all day, the lock clicks and the door opens. When I see Oscar, I instantly regret my decision.
“You called?” he sarcastically quips.
“I need to eat.”
“Such a demanding little thing, aren’t you?”
There is so much wrong with that sentence, but I don’t bother to entertain him because I’ve decided not to speak to him unless necessary. I fold my arms across my chest, arching a brow.
Oscar is highly amused. “All right. Follow me.”
We exit in silence, which I’m thankful for.
I’m on high alert, scoping out my surroundings as I have one more bug to plant. I really want to get to Oscar’s office, as I can only imagine what goes on in there, but when he leads me into a well-stocked kitchen, my stomach rumbles, and all thoughts of espionage are put on hold.
He walks over to the large silver refrigerator and opens the door. I watch as he retrieves what looks like deli meats, cheese, and a Tupperware container filled with crisp green lettuce. I practically salivate at the sight but keep my hunger hidden because depending on him for survival is just another reason to make him smile.
He places everything on the counter before reaching for two plates. My appetite is suddenly shot because I’d rather starve than share a meal with this man.
“Water?” he casually asks.
My parched throat has me nodding my head. He turns back around and hunts for a bottle of Evian in the fridge. He’s being far too civil for my liking, and I can’t help but think he’s up to something.
“How did you sleep?”
All right, that’s it. I’m not here for small talk.
Accepting the bottle of water, I unscrew the lid and drink it dry. Once I’m done, I wipe my lips with the back of my hand. “The little sleep I did have was plagued with nightmares of the man I love getting his dick sucked by your concubine. So what do you think?”
I don’t bother masking my feelings for Saint because I am done with pretenses. Oscar can’t use it as leverage because it seems we both have one thing in common, and that’s Saint.
However, seeing his treatment of him has me wondering if Oscar cares about Saint at all.
