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“My God, Orion,” he said, his voice trembling.
She ignored him, continuing. “Yeah, they loved that medieval shit. A time where punishment was an art, when cages weren’t enough. Torture was what kept the peasants from rebelling against those in power. It worked the same way with us. Stopped us from fighting, from believing that our fate could be changed.” She paused, remembering the day when Jaclyn had been hurled back into The Cell with a crude bandage on her face, stained through with blood. The metal clasp of the mask had ripped a wide gash in the back of her head. “With the Scold’s Bridle, or the box . . . with the whips and the chains, they controlled us. Tormented us. And Jaclyn . . . Jaclyn got it the worst.”
It should’ve been stitched, that gash. It was deep and ugly. It also should’ve gotten infected without proper care or antiseptics. It would’ve been kind for her, to die of an infection.
Maddox’s knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. Orion cheated by looking at him, not looking straight ahead at her future. Maddox was her past. But he was forcing himself into the present. Forcing himself into this promise that was threaded through with the Ri that still tasted his kiss on her lips.
“Fuck, Orion,” he said, voice a rasp. “I don’t even know what to say. I’m so . . . so angry, and hurt, and—” His voice cracked. She thought she saw his eyes glisten. “Just so fucking sorry you’ve been through all this.”
She was surprised that the emotion, the naked pain in his voice hit her. It hit her in the place where the summer was perfect, and his lips tasted like Juicy Fruit. The place she would kill right after she kept this promise.
“I’m sorry too,” she said in a whisper.
“This is it,” Maddox said, leaning forward to take in the house they’d stopped in front of.
It was the first word he’d spoken since she’d told him about the mask, the extent of the torture. She guessed it fucked him up. He had to have found them at the scene. But maybe seeing them and hearing about them being used were two different things.
Orion was used to torture, as much as any human being could be used to such a thing. Sitting in the car with Maddox was a different kind of torture though. The small space was drenched in his scent, a strong aftershave that should’ve been offensive to Orion, but wasn’t, because undercutting it was Maddox’s smell. And she hated how it took her back to that evening on his back deck, his thick hands cradling her, his eyes as genuine as she’d ever seen a man’s.
It comforted her, and she hated that. But the large house with the manicured lawn and immaculate garden terrified her. It was a world she didn’t know, didn’t want to know.
She had suspected Mary Lou had come from money and she had been right. This wasn’t just upper middle class, this was rich.
Orion was dressed to look rich enough, she supposed. She had tried on ten different outfits the night before to ensure she did. Black slacks that molded to her body in ways she didn’t think were possible. A silk shirt that didn’t crinkle with travel and looked presentable. Diamonds at her neck because she had the money to buy them. Because she liked the cold, strong, beautiful thing touching her. She felt strong like the diamond when she dressed this morning, but now, looking out over the sprawling estate, Orion shrunk into herself. She felt small, weak.
She took a breath before stepping out of the Camaro, steadying herself. She was wearing heels. Only after practicing around her apartment for weeks did she learn not to walk like a baby giraffe in them. They cost hundreds of dollars and were the most uncomfortable thing she’d ever worn, apart from her own skin. But they made her feel important, classy. With her eyes on them, she composed herself, took a breath, forced Mary Lou’s face into her mind’s eye.
She let the expensive shoes take over, pretending as she did in her apartment while she was learning to use them, like she was a CEO or a lawyer, tall and strong, and sure of herself. They were painful, sure, but they were powerful too. And she liked the pain. That every step was calculated agony. She doubted if she grew up without The Cell, without the ankle chains, that she ever would’ve found herself walking around in six-hundred-dollar shoes.
She liked that too.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Maddox asked after Orion had been staring at the house without moving for five minutes.
“No,” she said quietly, purposefully.
He didn’t argue with her, she was thankful for that.
