More and more little murderesses came to kill me, until each day became a matter of who could kill who first.
A smirk curled my lips as one of the women broke from the pack and bolted.
The wind was stronger on the roof of my palace.
No one could see me watching them.
I was like the God of Death himself—making notes of which ones I’d end first.
But that one?
The girl with long black hair and dressed like a penniless teenager seemed...different.
“Either she’s pathetically stupid or impressively smart.” The breeze snatched my whisper, shredding it into pieces so no one would hear.
For years on end, I had no one to talk to but myself. They gave me books and pre-approved entertainment, but human companionship wasn’t allowed.
Not unless I got them pregnant.
And even if I did, they’d be whisked away to have my bastard child, condemning my offspring to a fate worse than the hell I currently lived.
I would die before that ever happened.
As the girl fled across the gardens, arrowing toward the wall that she’d never be able to scale, I turned around.
I’d seen enough.
She was just another mouse caught in their trap.
Another morsel I had no intention of enjoying.
My black coat billowed around me.
A chill bit into my skin.
And as I descended the tower to the ballroom, I sighed.
I felt ancient and weary, burning alive with hate and revenge.
Yet now my home was infested with rats, and the games were about to begin.
Chapter Seven
“KEEP IT TOGETHER. YOU’VE GOT THIS. See, you’re fine.”
Giving myself a pep talk, I ran straight for the wall barricading us in this nightmare. The broken glass at the top twinkled and that nasty wire said it was probably electrified but I had to try.
Pressing myself against the wall, I fumbled with my backpack and yanked out my cell phone. Looking around furtively, I turned it on and waited with a pounding skull as it booted up, whirred to life, and...no signal.
Of course.
Holding it aloft like an idiot, I walked a few metres, begging the bars to glow with reception.
And nothing.
Fine.
I’d never relied on that stupid device anyway. And my bodyguard, Dillon, had enough experience tracking me down without it. How many times had he found me in some obscure place in the rice paddies of Ubud or on a river cruise through Europe? I mean, I wasn’t exactly incognito with using my credit card, but still...he would find me.
