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“His name is Dorian.”
“Dorian? Why does that name sound familiar?” Calix croaks, looking at me.
I close my eyes, shame making me a coward, but I can’t bear to see the look in his eyes. Have him look at me with hatred. Though nobody could hate me more than I do.
“Wait. He was the guy fucking your sister?”
I shake my head and open my eyes. “No. He was the guy fucking me. I’m Selene.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
The doctor entering the room offered me a welcome reprieve, and when I was told they wanted to take some x-rays of my arms—just as a precaution—I didn’t put up a fight. Am I delaying the inevitable? Absolutely. But all I can think of is how tense Calix had been beside me and the words he once threw my way.
I can find little sympathy for the girl who tried to trick the devil and failed, and offered up her family as sacrifices.
It’snot that I disagree with him because everything he said is true. I was a selfish bitch, and my stupidity cost my family everything. I’ve had to live with that knowledge every single day of my life since.
Once the x-rays are done, they leave me in a wheelchair in the waiting room for the doctor to review the images. I zone out, thinking about the choices I made and all the things that led me here. I hear the nurses talking about a patient that’s been brought in with a broken neck and an injury to his penis. A whisper of, “At least he can’t feel the pain in his dick,” followed by a snicker, almost has me laughing, too, until I remember everything that man put me through. I want him to feel the pain. I’ve been in pain for years, why shouldn’t he feel it?
I look around, making sure nobody is watching, before climbing from my wheelchair and making my way down the corridor. I see the man Maxim assigned to watch the room talking to a pretty nurse who bats her long eyelashes at him.
Using his distraction to my advantage, I slip inside the room and make my way over to the bed. I find Dorian staring up at the ceiling, his eyes filled with fear. It feeds something inside me.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
His eyes flit to mine, his shoulders move a fraction.
“Not so much fun now that the tables have turned, huh? Now I don’t have a cattle prod, but I’m sure I could improvise. Let me see.” I look around and find a pen on the rolling table next to his chart.
“A scalpel, that will do. After all, this flap of skin that used to be your dick isn’t much use anymore, now is it?”
“Stop,” he whispers as if his voice won’t go any louder.
“He speaks. Impressive. I did expect to find you with a tube down your throat, breathing for you. I’m a little disappointed, I won’t lie. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, my dickenectopy.”
“Please,” he begs.
I walk closer to his head and drag the pen down his cheek, knowing he’ll think I’m slicing his face.
Tears run down his temples as I lean over him, my lips inches from his. “Tell me everything, and I’ll leave you to your new, pathetic existence.”
He shudders and starts talking in such a quiet voice that I have to lean closer to hear him. “Santos likes them young.”
Even though I know this, I let his words sink in as I try to unravel his secrets. The image of my past twists to take another shape.
“When you were promised to him at twelve, he was happy, but he didn’t want to wait for your eighteenth birthday like your parents insisted. By that point, his interest had waned and shifted.”
A breath rattles out of him, making me realize that talking is draining him.
“That’s when he enlisted my help.”
“You set me up?”
“No, Santos did. He told me what to do, what to say, and how to play it. You fell so easily for me, it was laughable.”
I squeeze my hands into fists but keep my cool. Killing him won’t give me answers.
“Don’t feel bad. He always planned to kill you all. He only had eyes for Sophia. As soon as he saw her, nothing else mattered. It’s funny, really, the way it played out. Did you know she was the one who told him about us? She didn’t know it was a setup, but she was pissed about all the attention you were getting instead of her.”
