My anger drains out of me, replaced by pity. Because I know what the redemption room means. I almost feel sorry for these people, typing hatred so casually, unaware of who is reading.
Avi nods, looking a little more stable now. She doesn’t know about the redemption room. It’s a white room. Completely white. Captives are given food, water, a single bed to sleep on. A perfectly cleaned bathroom. Fresh clothes. Everything they need to survive. Except one thing. They never see another human.
There is nothing to do, no sound, no work, no distraction. Just white walls and time. Endless, suffocating time. Within fourteen days, they start losing their minds. Slowly at first, then all at once.
Just like everything related to Matleon, Kaz told me about this method of torture he uses. He has different levels of it. The redemption room is a white room, meant for those they want to break slowly. The grey room is for those they want to destroy faster. And then there is the black room, designed to shatter the mind within two or three days.
My family never kept me in the dark when it came to information. They never showed me practical examples of their work, never dragged me into blood or violence, but all the theoretical knowledge was always laid out in front of me.
Papa wanted me to understand how their world works, to know the basics well enough to protect myself in case ofemergencies. Wen and Avi, on the other hand, were kept far away from this world. Shielded. Untouched.
chapter 25
Iselyn
That day was the best day. Because after that, the internet only got uglier. It’s been a full two weeks now, and only recently have things started to fade. Avi has developed a thicker skin too. Wen and I now make jokes about people’s comments in front of her, and she has started to get her smile back.
It’s easy to say don’t give a damn about people, but it’s much harder to actually do, especially when you’ve never had any practice with it. I’m sure she can deal with anyone saying anything now. With just an eye roll, she moves past it. People change quickly when they’re burdened with too much all at once.
Wen and I have spent almost every hour with her over the past two weeks. Matleon was busy with Zo, dealing with the people talking shit. We barely talked during this time, we only slept in the same bed together. Or, to be precise, I slept all over him. I even found myself lying completely on top of him many nights. I still can’t understand how I was comfortable sleeping on top of that pile of hard muscles.
This morning, Avi and Zo left for a trip to Iceland. It’s meant to change the scenery and lift Avi’s mood. Now it’s just Wen and me. Matleon has already left for the office. I worked in my labthe whole morning and afternoon, and now I’m cooking. I gave our chef a half-day leave and took his position in the kitchen.
Wen is practicing for her upcoming concert, which has been postponed, and she’s very glad about that. She wasn’t in the mood to attend a concert while leaving Avi in that state.
The kitchen door opens, and the man who hasn’t come in front of my eyes the entire day, and hasn’t left my thoughts for a single minute, walks in.
“What are you doing home so early?”
He comes closer. “A good wife should say, I’m glad you’re home early.”
“We both know how good of a wife I am,” I reply coolly, “and how good of a husband you are.”
He hugs me from behind, his arms locking me in place.
“You’re obviously a very bad wife. As for me—” He kisses just below my ear.
Goosebumps explode across my arms. My grip tightens around the knife in my hand. We’re back in the same position, him pressed close to me, a blade clenched in my fist. The memory of that night is still vivid in my mind, lingering not just in my thoughts but on my skin. And now, this new layer added to it.
“I’m an excellent husband.”
“By the way,” he murmurs against the skin of my neck, his breath hot and deliberate, “what are you doing here in the kitchen?”
“Flying,” I say with sarcasm.
He chuckles softly and presses a kiss to my neck. His forearm slides under my breasts, tugging them upward.
“What are you doing?” I whisper-yell, struggling to pull away from him.
“Helping you fly.” He lifts them higher. “I don’t want you falling because of gravity acting on these heavy tits.”
I raise the knife. “Matleon, I’ll cut your hands if you don’t remove them.”
He only chuckles, kissing my neck again. “People don’t value good intentions.”
Keeping one arm firm around my waist, he brings the other up, pressing his palm fully against one breast. I suck in a sharp breath. The knife trembles in my hand.
“Matleon, stop it,” I grit out.
