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That catches my attention. “What?”
He’s not talking about me, is he?
Of course he is. The very thought makes me sick. All this time, I thought I was safe, but someone had already invaded my privacy, recording me at every moment.
I haven’t done anything of note in my room, but the fact that someone was watching is still nauseating.
“In her room?” Marius asks. “Who’d do that?”
I have the answer to that specific question.
Filming some guys in the woods, that made no sense, but if the person was filming me? I know exactly who it is. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Why he’d need fresh material, I’m not sure. He can still blackmail me into sex with the videos he took when I was in high school.
He’s found me. He’s found me, he’s found me.
I thought I was out of his clutches, I was safe in Rothford, but he’s had the chance to bug my place, my clothes. He’s playing with me like a cat with a mouse, preparing to pounce.
Oh god, what does he have planned next? I can’t imagine the horror he has in mind for me after I ran away.
“I was talking to you, Sarah,” Marius says in a deceptively calm tone that makes me shiver. “Any reason why you’d have cameras in your room and on your clothes, your highness?”
Why does he sound accusatory? Does he think I’d fucking stalkmyself?
“Fuck you,” I growl, feeling like I could bite.
After everything he’s done today, he’s getting nothing from me.
One of them—the newcomer, I think—whistles. “All that attitude after a couple of hours with you? She’s something.”
“You can say that again.”
Footsteps again. Someone undoes my blindfold. When it falls, it reveals the second man standing nearby.
No wonder he didn’t give a shit when I asked for help. It’s his brother—a bit taller, more slender, and with a sharpness that makes him feel more dangerous.
“But she’s not our guy,” Markus states, making me breathe out.
Marius isn’t convinced.
His brother continues, “We have several people on the problem and none can prove the provenance of the video—which means it’s been posted by a skilled hacker. A good one. Sarah’s not a hacker.”
“Doesn’t mean she didn’t work with one.”
“I didn’t!” I snap.
Next, he’s going to guess I put cameras in my own room, to spy on myself.
“Maybe not. But you’re hiding something.” Here it is again, his certainty, like he can read my fucking mind.
“For fuck’s sake, everyone has theirprivacy!”
“Yours ceased to matter the moment you found yourself entangled in a plot to steal ours.”
He’s such an asshole.
Markus steps between us. “Here’s the deal, Sarah. I know you didn’t film us—and that idiot does, too, deep down, or he would have handed you to our father, who would have put a bullet in your and buried you by now,” he states with a striking amount of indifference.
