He looks at me now with that same twisted sparkle in his eye, like we’re just roommates snowed in somewhere, killing time. Like this isn’t a stalker and his victim’s brother. Like he’s not a sadist and I’m not a man barely holding it together.
"Cheer up," he says, nudging the bowl closer. “It’s jasmine rice. Imported. Your sister loves it.”
My fists clench instinctively, the rope digging into raw skin. I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, tasting copper.
“What makes you think I have an appetite?"
He straightens, feigning surprise, then lets out a short, theatrical laugh.
“What makes me think you don’t?” he counters. “You’ve barely touched your last two meals. You’re getting thin. Gaunt. Pretty soon you won’t be able to stand, and then what? Can’t have you looking like death when she walks in. She might faint.”
His eyes are too bright. Feverish. It scares me. His obsession is hitting its peak.
There were girls before Sabine. Girls he moved on from. He told me about them. Not a lot, but a bit. Enough for me to know they’ve been to this basement once.
“Maybe I’ll spoon-feed you,” he adds, already dragging a chair over. There’s something grotesquely sincere about it. “Today’s aspecial day, Cassian. A really special one. I want everything to be perfect.”
“Perfect?” I rasp.
As if anything about this is perfect. Is that how he sees it? A celebration?
The laugh that claws up my throat comes out more like a snarl.
“You think tying me up, drugging yourself into delusion, and staging a date with the girl you’ve stalked for—what, over a year?—isperfect? God, you’re such a fucking nut case.”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just smiles.
“Perspective is everything,” he says, sitting down across from me with a too-casual ease. “You see a cage. I see a sanctuary. You see a threat. I see a gift. It’s all in how you frame it.”
I spit blood onto the floor between us. “Frame this.”
His eyes flick to the red stain, and for a moment, just one, I see it: anger. I shouldn’t feel good about it, not when he’s the one in control, but still. It’s something.
Sabine will come. Or he’ll make sure she does. And I have no plan, no move left. Every path to saving her is closed to me. I can only hope Grayson keeps her safe. Her and my mother.
I try not to dwell on it. Thinking too much hurts. But I know Grayson. He can do it. He’ll follow his instincts, cop instincts, the kind that run in his blood like caffeine, and figure out that nobody in Sabine’s circle is safe except him and my mom.
He’ll take them to a safehouse. Cut off Eli. Sweep the house again. Tear it apart if he has to. Retrace the camera feeds straight back to this hellhole.
But if he makes one wrong call, trusts the wrong person or follows the wrong lead, it all collapses.
And Sabine walks straight into the fire.
I shift, the ropes now grinding into muscle. My whole body screams, but I stay still. Jaw locked.
“Worried?” he asks, his voice softening like he thinks it’s comforting. Like a lullaby laced with arsenic. “You don’t need to be. I’ll take good care of her. We’ll have our date, your sister and I. Right here, in front of you. Think of yourself as the chaperone. Or maybe just an observer. You can judge our chemistry, give me a performance review. What do you think? I have a feeling we value similar things in women.”
He grins. Just grins. I fight the urge to vomit. My teeth are clenched so tight my jaw aches.
“What would I rate?” I ask, though I already know nothing good is coming.
“Thechemistry,” he repeats, more animated now. “The connection. The spark.” He snaps his fingers in front of my face. “That spark, Cassian. That’s what it’s all about.”
“You think you’ll have any?”
“Oh, I know we will.” He licks his lips. “It’s not guesswork. It’s method. Why do you think I spent so much time getting it right? The gifts. Learning her habits. Studying what makes her feel safe. Getting inside your house and looking at those sweet little photos of her as a child. It wasn’t random. It was research. I’ve been preparing for this moment. Laying the groundwork. Building trust without her even realizing it. That’s how you manufacture a spark.”
My God. Just let me stretch those fucking ties a little bit more so I can launch myself at him and bite out his throat. I’d gladly take all that gushing blood. I’d fucking bathe in it. My hatred for this man is staggering.
