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He chains Seven up, then smacks him a few times in the face.
“Wake up!”
Seven slowly comes to. His eyes immediately find mine as if reassuring himself I'm still here and okay. It does something to me when he looks at me like this.
“Good. I need you both awake for this announcement,” our captor says.
I want to join Seven. I want to be wrapped in his arms right now, but our captor is standing beside him, and I don't dare make that trip across the cell because something has changed, and I'm terrified that I think I know what it is.
I've craved both of these men, but it only feels right or sane with Seven, so I pour all my emotional energy into him and try to forget the excitement I feel when the other man touches me. Obviously, it's Stockholm Syndrome, but even so, it’s convincingly real. It's reminds me of a lucid dream I once had where I spent several minutes just touching this textured wallpaper, knowing I was dreaming but unable to comprehend how real it all felt. As I'd stroked the velvety smooth wall, I kept thinking to myselfhow can this not be real?
This dream is even more real.
“I've grown tired of this game,” our captor says.
The tears come immediately. It's like I've locked them away and saved them just for this moment. He's going to kill us. I knew this day was coming, but I'd hoped it would be farther in the future. I crawl over to him, forgetting my former resistance. “Please, Master... don't...” But I can't bring myself to say the words. If he's grown tired of this game, there’s nothing I can do to change his mind. I've always known I existed at his pleasure, on his terms.
I flinch when he strokes my hair. He sighs. “I'm going to let you go,” he says finally.
“W-what?” I can't have heard him right. He can't just let us go. How would that even work? Isn't he afraid we'll report him? Before I can work through all the ramifications and how he could possibly let us go without endangering himself, the reality that I've spent weeks ignoring because it no longer mattered, slaps me in the face.
I still have no job, no money, no apartment. Probably not even clothes. I'm sure Carolyn must have tossed my things when I didn't come back for them. I will starve to death out there. I'm pretty sure I can't get Andrew to take me back, not after he thinks I stood him up that night and just never spoke to him again.
He probably thinks I was fucking around with him somehow. And after what has happened here in this cell, I don't think I could ever...
“Master, please... I'll starve. I have nothing, I can't...” I can't believe I'm saying this. But this is truly the situation I'm in, where being this man's captive is a better fate than being set free because of my financial situation. In the back of my mind these weeks, I've feared he would eventually kill me, but it never ever occurred to me that I should worry about going back to the problems I was in before captivity.
He's still stroking my hair, his fingertips moving down to rub the back of my neck. I'm ashamed of how much I love it when he does this. It still feels so wrong to love anything that comes from his hand, especially since I have guilt-free pleasure with Seven. Both men are equally beautiful, but one is a monster, and I can't let myself feel anything for him, so I push these things down as much as I can.
“Don't worry, Kate, I won't let you starve. I'm prepared to offer you two million dollars.”
My breath stops for a second, and maybe my heart as well. I can't have heard him right. Is he paying me for my silence? Or is this just another sick game? What's the catch?
“Unfortunately, this offer is only for you. If you accept, I'll have to kill your companion. But you'll be free and safe. I think it's a pretty good offer. You should carefully consider your answer.”
I'm stunned for a moment. Why would he let me go but not Seven?
“No!” I say as soon as I can get my vocal cords to work again. My refusal comes out shrill and panicked.
He shrugs. “I could just kill you both. I'm offended that you would spit on my generosity in this way.”
I'm crying now, great heaving sobs that I can't get control of. “Please, please...” I whimper.
Then I hear Seven's quiet, strong voice rising above my crying and begging. “Take the deal, Kitten,” he says.
I extricate myself from the hand still stroking the nape of my neck. Our captor acts as if this entire conversation were about something unimportant—not two lives hanging in the balance. But our livesareunimportant to him. I crawl the few feet to Seven and bury my face in his chest. I'm grateful the chains give enough leeway for him to put his arms around me. He strokes my back.
“Shhhh,” he says. “I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. I need you to go. Live your life.”
I shake my head, my tears dripping onto his chest. “No, I won't leave you. I love you.”
I involuntarily flinch when I say this because I remember our captor is standing so close. He heard this confession of love, and he surely won't be happy about it.
There’s a long beat of tense silence, and then Seven laughs. It’s a dark, sinister laugh, like nothing I've heard from him before.
“What was that, Declan? Three weeks?” Seven says.
“Impressive. I thought she'd take the money.”
