“Say it again,” Fallon instructs coldly, forcing my attention back to him. “And make sure it’s correct.”
I suck in a breath and release it slowly, trying to tame my racing heart. My hands shake, and I clasp them together in my lap and close my eyes, doing my best to keep myself and my voice from trembling. Now that I know the depths that Fallon will go to, I am even more terrified of him than before.
Fallon’s palm slaps the table, jolting me from my thoughts. “Answer.”
I clear my throat, my gaze darting to Reaper again. “I don’t know where I was.”
Reaper’s slight nod warms my chest. The fact that he’s calmly standing by while Fallon yells at me, knowing what he did, tells me that these interrogations to prepare me for Rune are vital. He’d never allow Fallon to behave like this otherwise.
“Describe the terrain,” Fallon says, and I sense him back away.
Another deep breath doesn’t help unravel the vise clamping my stomach. All I want is to go back to my room and curl up in my bed. Curl up with Striker and Reaper and forget everything as they pleasure me again.
Fallon’s harsh smack to the tabletop snaps me from the fantasy. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It was cold—”
“That’s not terrain,” Fallon interjects, hand slapping down on the table again. “I said terrain.”
I lick my lips, losing the battle with my nerves. A light tremble moves through my shoulders, and I breathe in, fighting tears. “It was by the ocean. Rocky.”
“What color was the water?”
“Murky. Dark blue.”
“Any woods?”
I shake my head, picturing the marsh as I lie. “Just a marsh.”
“Where did they keep you?”
“In an old house. They kept me away from Cora, then they put us in a room together.” That is the truth, so it will be the easiest part of the story to tell Rune. Fallon told me that Clyde gave him the rundown of what she said when she returned.
“How big was the house?”
To make it believable, you have to believe it too.That’s what Fallon said the first day they brought me down here and gave me a list of things I’m to tell Rune when I go back.
“Tell me about the house, Delilah,” Fallon says, making my focus snap to him. His tone is suddenly gentle, so at oddswith his entire body language. But this is what he does. Disarms with charm, then moves in to strike when he thinks there’s a crack.
I swallow, sitting up straight in my chair, and look him dead in the eye. “Big. It was run down with lots of rooms, but I didn’t see all of them.”
“What style?”
“I don’t know,” I snap. “I’m not a fucking architect.”
“Good,” Fallon praises. His hand lands on my head, and I resist the urge to move away from him. “Always redirect Rune’s questions with anger. Remember when they question you, you are angry. Furious that you were taken and kept for so long with no understanding of why.” He pulls a chair from the table. The legs scream across the floor, and the sound makes my already too strung out nerves shriek too. He sits across from me and folds his hands on the table. Calm. Collected. Like he didn’t aim a gun at me and admit to murdering children and abusing his sons just a day ago. “Now tell me what the men look like.”
“I don’t know,” I say, and it’s mostly true. “They wore masks. I never saw their faces.”
“What did they tell you?”
“Nothing. They barely spoke to me. Just gave me food and made me stay in a room. I was only let outside once a day.”
Fallon nods. “Cry.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need to cry,” he says. “To make it believable.”
My laugh is bitter. “My father doesn’t care about tears.”
