She extends her right leg. I wrap my hand around her ankle. Firm, possessive. Push the fabric up past her knee.
There it is.
Her sole is destroyed. Cuts crisscrossing the skin, blisters torn open, dried blood cracking at the edges. The mile-long walk on rough pavement left its signature in ruined flesh.
I say nothing. Just hold her gaze as I slide the Louboutin onto her destroyed foot.
The leather must be agony against every wound, but her face stays serene.
"Stand up. Walk for me."
She stands. Three steps forward. Turn. Three steps back. Perfect posture, shoulders back, not a hint of pain showing. Theheels click against hardwood, and I watch blood begin to pool in the left shoe.
"Hmm. Not quite right. Let's try another."
I remove the Louboutins slowly, noting the smear of blood on the inner leather. Set them aside. Open another box.
"These next."
Jimmy Choos. Higher heel, pointed toe that will concentrate her weight on the worst cuts. She takes them without comment, walks again. A single drop of blood falls to the floor.
"You know," I say conversationally, selecting a third pair, "I followed your bloody footprints through the streets last night."
She goes completely still. For the first time since I entered, real surprise flickers across her face before she can hide it. Her pupils dilate, breath catching.
There it is. You thought you were so clever.
"Quite a trail you left. Through my compound, out the service door, all the way to that parking garage." I slide on Manolos now, watching her process this revelation. "Interesting meeting. Your brother, I assume? Military bearing, dark hair. You gave him something. Paper, folded small."
Her composure cracks, just slightly. A tremor in her hands before she clasps them together.
"You… you followed me?"
"Every step."
The shock in her eyes is genuine now, mixed with something else. Fear? Anger?
"If you're going to kill me," she says quietly, "just do it."
"Kill you?" My laugh is dark. "If I wanted you dead, you'd have been dead in that garage. Your brother too."
The Manolos are soaked through now, blood visible through the open toe. But she's processing too many revelations to focus on the pain.
"Then what do you want?"
I stand, cross to her. Take her chin in my hand. "I want you to understand something. You are here because I allow it. You breathe because I allow it. You see your brother because I allow it."
"You didn't allow—"
"I followed you for ninety minutes and didn't stop you. That's permission." My grip tightens. "You think you're clever. You think you're winning. But you're only free because I haven't decided to cage you yet."
Four more pairs. Each worse than the last. She tries them all, walking on destroyed feet while her mind races behind those blue eyes, trying to understand why I let her go, why I didn't stop her, why I'm playing with her instead of killing her.
The last box contains simple flats. Soft leather, cushioned sole. Her whole body leans toward them involuntarily.
I set the box aside. "No, I don't think those suit you. Let's go back to the first pair. The Louboutins."
"Alexei—"
