Ah.
The captain.
I laugh quietly.
“You think he can get here in time?”
Her chest rises and falls too fast.
I stand — slowly, deliberately — and the room shrinks around her.
“You’re braver than I remember,” I say.“But bravery won’t save you, Wren.”
Her breath turns to shards.
“If you could just listen,” she whispers, voice cracking.
I step closer, into her space, into the humidity left from the shower, into the warmth she tries to keep from me.
“I have been listening,” I say.“To every laugh.Every breath.Every word you say to those men.Every time they touch you.”
Her face drains of color.
“You think I’m jealous?”I ask, quiet and lethal.“I’m not.”
That’s a lie.
A beautiful lie.
“I’m simply...correcting something.”
She stumbles back a single step.
Just one.
I follow.
“Now,” I murmur, “why don’t you get dressed?We have things to talk about.”
She opens her mouth — maybe to scream, maybe to plead, maybe to fight — and I smile wider.
Because I know her.
And she’s finally, finally exactly where I want her.
