“What?” I demand. “Just tell me,” I hiss at him.
“You’re not going back to your apartment,” Rory says, her tone unemotional once again, and I like it better than that fake cheer from before.
It dawns on me, what Eian really meant when he said I was no longer able to do anything without his say-so.
“I can do all the research I need from my own place.” I doubt anyone’s going to blame me for sounding so panicked—I am panicked for fuck’s sake. “I can’t uproot Maggie’s life, she needs a routine and?—”
“Your life is now with us,” Duffy says, his soft tone doing absolutely nothing for my mental state.
“No, Eian said?—”
Wait, what did he actually say?
Do you think you have a choice?
I shudder with full-body shivers. Fucking hell, even in my head his voice is just too damn... enticing. I really need to get my head checked.
Why did it not register before?
As if they have a mind of their own, my eyes shift to the door, but just as quickly as I look at it, I know I really can’t outrun every man and woman in this clinic. I don’t even know where the clinic is.
Yes, I’m pretty sure we’re in Jersey, but I could really be anywhere.
I don’t know how she moved so quickly, but Rory’s next to my bed and forcibly turning my gaze toward her.
“Don’t run, Colby. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I stare into those empty eyes and know that she doesn’t. But she will. I’m a prisoner all over again.
It’s different of course, but still. With her attention firmly on every tiny movement I make, I know I’m the prey in this scenario, and I doubt that’s ever going to change.
The tense moment is broken by Duffy’s laughter. It startles me, but Rory doesn’t move an inch.
“What are you laughing at?” I mutter at him, only moving my eyes in his direction.
“I’ve heard her tell about a thousand dudes she doesn’twant to hurt them, but I think this is the first time she means it.”
The implications of that are... well, they’re obvious. What would a psychopath who’s part of the mob do other than hurtdudes? It’s still fucking startling.
“Fuck, you really are insane,” I keep muttering. “If you’re trying to make me feel better...” I pause to look into Rory’s eyes again, then turn to watch the same eyes but so, so different. There’s laughter and warmth, and yes a little crazy, in Duffy’s. “You’re failing miserably.”
“Okay.” Quick as a cat, Rory moves back, grabs the chair, and drags it over so it’s right by my bed. “What can I say that will make you feel better?”
“I can tell when you’re trying to fake being normal, so stopping that is a good first step.”
“You got it.” She nods once and sits back, looking almost relaxed. I doubt she ever truly relaxes, though. She’s a true predator. “What else?”
I try to think of something else, but I can’t, so I show my hand with one simple question.
“Are you ever going to let Maggie and me go?”
The way she tilts her head, assessing, is another of those animal-like moves of hers that it’s going to take me a long time to get used to.
“We don’t make any choices here, Colby,” Duffy answers. “We follow orders.”
“Why?” I can’t help but ask, desperate now, because the fact that he didn’t answer my question feels like a death sentence. “Why do you follow his orders?”
“He’s our family,” he says, as if it were that simple.
