There’s no way he knows that I went into Cameron’s room. It must be written all over my face because Reed glances over my head and around us before dipping closer.
“I’m afraid your time away from the family has made you clumsy. I’ll do my best to keep the punishment as minimal as I can, but Greg is angrier than I’ve ever seen him,” Reed murmurs before straightening his jacket cuff links.
My heart beats faster as he lifts his phone and shows me footage of the hallway and me breaking down the door. Reed swipes his finger to the next video; it’s from inside Cameron’s room.
Nausea and dizziness drain the blood from my face.
Reed tilts his head and offers a look of sympathy. I’ve only ever seen him give that look to me, and I know it’s because he’s seen firsthand how cruel my father can be. Even by Reed’s standards.
“He saw this?” I mutter, staring into the crowd as Greg shakes hands with the members that came out tonight.
Reed nods slowly. “Yes, and you know he’s going to make me do the punishment. I’m sorry in advance, but no matter what happens, just know I won’t let it be for long.” I tilt my head back to look at him and he flashes me a rare smile.
“I trust you,” I mutter, leaning against his arm. “I always have. No matter the consequences of it, you keep your promises.”Even if it’s for his own benefit. At least I fit in there somewhere.
He squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. “No matter how dark and long-winded they are,” he adds absently.
I wasn’t sure how to make the executions less terrible, at first.
Reed was always in his office—a spare room my father had cleared away for him after his parents passed away—studying and trying to learn as much as he could about things I wasn’t interested in finding out about. He always leaned into the dark much heavier than I did.
I told him how I struggled with accepting being born as the next Mavestelli executioner, and he suggested that I create something with them, something like art. The way I always wanted to create, just not with the same medium. Not even close.
“You don’t realize the empire you’ve been handed, Emery. I would’ve already taken over the family if I were you.” He tipped his pen back and forth with his fingertip, the ballpoint against the desk. “But you’re not much for envisioning cruel things. You’re an artist. You need to escape.” Reed’s eyes softened and he handed me a stack of pages.
There were sketches of flesh and bone, intricately posed in ways that made them look like those old renaissance paintings. My heart skipped a beat and my eyes widened.
Reed smiled. “See?”
I glanced up at him. “You did these?”
He nodded. “To show you what you could do. Here.” Reed tossed a pink gel pen at me. I caught it awkwardly but smiled down at it. “Remember when my family’s estate caught fire?” His tongue was smooth saying the words.
I think that was the first time I realized how manipulative and terrifying Reed truly was.
I nodded and watched his grin grow wide as I debated asking him if he did that just so he could live with us. He knew my father would take him in, our mansion had many rooms, and Greg was fond of Reed.
What a devious mind. Calculating. Not sane in the slightest.
But he was right. He promised I’d feel better. He promised that the world would see the wicked things hands like mine could make.
So I did.
And it worked.
I posed them melancholically at first. Lonely positions. Hands covering their faces as if they were sobbing. On their knees as if they were praying. Always with pink X’s on their eyelids. Then I went darker. The longer I remained the executioner, the more grotesque my creations became.
It’s almost sad that a part of me still trusts him so dearly, knowing that he’d go to great lengths to throw away people’s lives if it serves his desires. Reed has been more of a role model to me than my father ever was.
“Yes…but I told you to leave Cameron alone,” I snap at Reed. His fingers flinch on my shoulder. My father overhears and dismisses the guard he was speaking with. I try to explain before he gets too angry. “I will tell you anything Cameron can. He doesn’t know?—”
My father strikes me across the face with an open hand. Hard enough that I lose my footing and stumble. If not for Reed still having me in a vise grip, I’d have been sent straight to the floor.
“Shut up, you insolent girl!” Father shouts.
Fear jolts through my bones and I have to clench my fists to keep myself from falling apart.
“Look at me,” he says slowly. I hesitate before firming my lips and glaring up at him.
