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Maybe it’s this bad because I sent Trap away before he could apply his magic salve.
Maybe it’s this bad because I let him beat me harder than he’s ever done before.
I can’t complain. That orgasm truly transported me. Transposed me. Trap turned me into something, someone, I’ve never been before.
But what the hell does that say about me? Why do I need pain like that to be set free?
I stare at myself in the mirror. I’m a different woman than the tortured creature who arrived at the freeport four months ago. My hair has grown out. I’ve lost twenty pounds of the weight Herzog forced on me. I’ve learned how to dress to accommodate my huge breasts, to accentuate them as assets instead of as something that shames me.
But would a healthy woman allow what Trap did to me tonight?
I know all the arguments. I’ve repeated them to myself so often, I literally recite them in my sleep. They’re the soundtrack to my dreams, a slow steady chant of everything I believe.
Trap gives me a safeword. I’m in control. Everything we do is by my choice, with my permission. No matter what we say in the middle of a game, I’m the one in charge.
But what if Klaus Herzog broke something in my brain? What if he and his brothers and all the special guests destroyed some key circuit? What if I’m so damaged I can’t even recognize all the ways I’m broken?
All those questions boil down to one: What would my life be like now if Leo had never sold me to Herzog?
Leo.
Leo.
Leo.
It always comes back to Leo.
I’m halfway to Swallowtail Cottage before I realize I’m holding the candy bars Trap gave me. I must have brought them as protection. As some sort of offering. A disguise.
Because I no longer know how to talk to my brother without hiding behind something.
He’s been on the freeport grounds for more than two weeks, and this is the first time I’ve forced myself to visit him. When I think of him wearing clothes paid for by Trap, sleeping in a bed outfitted by Trap, eating food provided by Trap, all I can think of is the freeport gallery I prepared instead.
Leo would be halfway through his captivity by now. Halfway to his scheduled death, if unregulated detox hadn’t done the job. Halfway to the end I wrote for him.
And part of me—a slimy, stinking, shameful part—still wishes I had my revenge. Because that’s another thing Herzog took from me forever—my utterly unshakable love for my twin.
Besides, Leo knows me better than any human being on the face of the earth. He’ll take one look at my face and know I’ve been shattered. He’ll see that I’ve sold myself to Trap. He’ll know I crushed Bart Carver, destroying the man through blackmail when Trap already had him neutered. Leo will know I’m damned, that there’s no coming back from the hell I live in. The old Alix Key is lost forever.
“Trick or treat?” I ask as he opens the door. I could have used my freeport credentials to enter the cottage. My ID is keyed to work the locks, to give me full access to every corner of the freeport except clients’ private galleries. But I hold out the bag and show off my collection of treats instead.
Leo stares at me like we’re strangers. It’s been three weeks since my last visit to Dover General. I relied on Trap’s endless stream of chauffeurs and assistants and personal shoppers to get my brother settled in his new life.
But after a long, slow beat, Leo shakes his head and says, “I don’t think that’s the way Halloween is supposed to work.” He steps aside, holding the door open and gesturing me in.
Glancing around, I see he isn’t exactly roughing it. The kitchen sparkles with new appliances. An overstuffed couch faces a television the size of Texas. Looking down the hall, I get a glimpse of a high bed jumbled with pillows.
The smell of popcorn is overwhelming. “Did you make enough for me?” I ask, nodding toward the puffy bag that looks like it just came out of the microwave.
“That’s my dinner,” Leo whines, and we could be hanging out in Candace’s kitchen, studying for the SATs all over again.
“And I brought dessert,” I remind him, shaking the bag of candy bars. I should tell him he needs to eat more than popcorn. His wrists are thin enough that I could circle them with my thumb and index finger. But it’s Halloween, and my brother and I have traditions.
Which Leo clearly remembers, because he’s taking two bowls out of the cupboard. “Coke?” he asks, but he’s already opening the refrigerator. He pops the top on two cans, pouring them over ice in tall glasses.
I nod toward the TV. “Any chance you get movies on that thing?”
He grins, and for just a moment, he looks like the little boy I grew up with. “There’s a movie monster marathon.Frankensteinstarts in five minutes.”
