“Good girl.”
I hear her sharp intake of breath. Hear the way she stiffens, like she wants to lunge at me, wants to scream.
I smirk.
This is going to befun.
Chapter seven
Martine Lilian Huntington-Russell
I wake with a start, my breath catching in my throat.
I don’t know if it’s morning yet. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep. The room is dark, the air thick, pressing down on me like a weight I can’t shake. My skin still burns where he touched me, the ghost of his grip lingering. My chin tingles where his fingers had pressed, a silent reminder of his control.
I sit up slowly, my fingers pressing into the soft sheets, the infuriatingly comfortable bed a cruel contrast to the unease twisting in my stomach.
Turning my head, I glance toward the window, my pulse uneven. The curtains are drawn, but a sliver of light seeps through the gap between them. I push back the blankets and stand, my legs weak beneath me as I cross the room, hands trembling as I pull the curtain aside.
The moon hangs low in the sky, its silver glow spilling over the vast estate grounds. The trees shift in the wind, casting long, spindly shadows against the manicured grass. It isn’t morning yet.
I exhale shakily, pressing my forehead to the cool glass. A sudden, desperate thought takes hold. I reach for the window latch, fingers fumbling, but when I try to push it open, it doesn’t budge. I press harder, jiggling it, then digging my nails into the edges, trying to pry it loose. Nothing. The frame is sealed shut. Panic flutters in my chest, sharp and insistent. I push again, using my full weight, but it doesn’t so much as creak. Its sound mocks me, as if to claim there’s no way out. No escape.
Every second that passes feels like I’m sinking deeper into quicksand I can’t escape.
Then, I hear what woke me up. The low and urgent voices coming from downstairs.
My pulse kicks up. Hayden hadn’t locked the door, but that doesn’t mean I’m free. I know better than to assume that. If I get caught sneaking around…
I push the thought away. My feet are already moving, silent against the floor, my body moving on instinct, drawn to eavesdrop as if some unseen force is pulling me forward.
An incorrigible snoop since childhood, I could always be found trailing a few steps after my brothers, listening in on their devilish plans.
I slip from the window, my bare feet ghosting over the cold floor as I move to the door. I press my ear against it and listen.
Nothing.
My dress from dinner still clings to my skin, wrinkled and slightly damp with sweat. How long have I been lying in that bed? Hours? Minutes? The passage of time is a blur, unmarked by anything but the pounding of my heart.
And now, who else is in the house?
Slowly and carefully, I crack it open, peering into the dim hallway. The house is massive, but my room sits at the end of the main hall, not far from the grand staircase. If I’m careful, I can move unnoticed, get close enough to hear.
My body moves before my mind can stop it, dragging my feet silently against the plush antique green carpet of the wood-walled hallway. I move too quickly to remember my slippers. I just dash out on instinct, driven by a wild fear and a desire for leverage to escape.
With every step toward the stairs, the voices sharpen.
I recognize Hayden’s voice immediately, calm, laced with that ever-present authority. The other voice is unfamiliar. It’s older and sharper in a way that puts a bitter taste in my mouth.
I press myself against the wall at the top of the staircase, my breath shallow as I listen.
“She shouldn’t still be breathing,” the man says, his voice edged with impatience.
My stomach drops.
But instead of a fight from Hayden, all that happens is a long, heavy pause.
Then Hayden, smooth as ever. “Creekmore, I wasn’t aware the Brotherhood did drop-ins.”
