I take a step forward.
There’s only a hair’s breadth of space between us, and I can feel the heat radiating from him.
It’s a bold move.
Too bad I have no idea where to go from here. My social compass is out of commission. I’m assuming I broke it when I fell out the window. Or, more likely, I’ve never had a functional one.
Sin arches an eyebrow at my proximity. “Tell me then, in your duties as a kidnappee, did you even bother trying your door?” There’s a mocking edge to his tone.
“I – no, of course not. I didn’t want to risk alerting any guards you had on the other side,” I answer, maybe a little defensively.
Sin grins, and the effect is breathtaking. Only it isn’t a kind gesture. The smile is pure cruelty, like a cat smiling at a mouse it’s just caught.
“The door wasn’t locked, mortal. You aren’t a prisoner here.” He talks slowly, enunciating his words like he thinks I’m an idiot.
And if that wasn’t enough of a mic drop moment, the warlord-wannabee has the audacity to walk away from me, taking my blanket rope masterpiece with him.
I’m left gaping at him as a familiar mantra starts to fill my head.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
How did I forget to check the door first?
This is why I am not cut out for horror movies – or even adventure movies for that part. I make stupid choices like freeing obsessive men from their ocean prisons and making dramatic prison breaks when I’mallegedlynot even locked in.
Sin is almost to the other side of the castle by the time I catch up to him. I know he knows I’m following him, but he doesn’t wait.
Jerk.
Again, I am not surprised.
When I reach his side, I ask, “If I’m not a prisoner, then why did you kidnap me?”
Sin doesn’t even spare me a glance when he answers, “Morgana wants to speak with you. She’d hoped to speak to both you and Leon, but we were informed thatthings may be deteriorating quickly on that front and that speaking to only you might be a better alternative.”
My eyes widen. “What do you mean, deteriorating?”
Does he know we were asked to kill him? Is he planning to psychologically torture me before killing me?
Sin spares me a glance this time, and I swear his expression softens. “We have eyes everywhere. We were informed you might be in dangerfromLeon.”
I bristle, not wanting his pity. “I’m fine.”
I’m definitely not fine. When it comes to Leon, I’m the furthest from fine you can get. I don’t want to be near the man and should be livid with him.
The logical part of my brain is angry. But now that I’m not wholly preoccupied with escaping the castle, the twisted, broken edges of my emotions are getting too loud to ignore.
Leon’s outburst was all my fault.
I’m the one who kept secrets. I’m the one who refused to accept the bond. Not to mention, I accidentally blasted him into a wall.
Technically, I threw the first punch.
I grit my teeth at that dark train of thought. I saw the bruises on my skin. I’m not completely blind. I refocus on my rage to quiet the trauma-conditioning. It’s surprisingly effective.
If the best way to shut up the broken, guilt-ridden parts of me is to do things that either spark my adrenaline or rage, then I’m about to take thrill-seeking to an entirely new level.
Sin is back to looking at me like I’m a bit of dog poop he’s tracked into the house.
