It doesn’t take us long to arrive at the massive, glass dome that serves as the greenhouse.
I open the door for her and usher Ember inside. She takes in the many plant beds with slightly narrowed eyes, glimpses of confusionflickering in and out of her gaze. The domed ceiling is high, the tech is so advanced I can’t name half the equipment here, and the sweet, musky smell of mulch and fertile dirt fills the warm, humid space.
“Greyson built this place for Scarlett,” I say. “She was studying to become a botanical genetic engineer. Scarlett was actually at the top of her class, on her way to becoming a PhD before he nabbed her. All the plants here are her creations, and the farm fields around are also her constructs. In about a year, most of the vegetables we eat will be grown by her program.”
Ember wanders over to Scarlett’s favorite plant bed, staring at the unique red-purple flowers. “I’ve never seen these before.”
“Because they didn’t exist until Scarlett made them,” I say harshly. Ember flinches, casting me a careful glance.
Fuck.
“They’re a hybrid.” I attempt to soften my tone. “They recycle carbon dioxide into oxygen at three times the speed of most other plants.” Considering the rate at which pollution’s spreading… “Scarlett’s creations could quite literally help save humanity from dying off in the next two or so centuries. I don’t know that we deserve it, but that’s what she’s working towards.”
“That’s amazing,” Ember says softly. After a few beats, she says, “I’ll apologize to her, but I’m not apologizing to Tobias. I did nothing wrong.”
I happen to agree with her, but I remain silent.
“Come on,” I say. “I think it’s time to go back home.”
“Your home,” she retorts, turning to face me. “Not mine. It’llneverbe mine.”
I smile. “If you say so.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ember
When we get back to Max’s apartment, he tells me to shower, and then leaves for his office. I briefly contemplate making a weapon to kill him with, but ultimately decide against it.
Notbecause I don’t plan on killing him, but because I need a better plan in place first. Such as turning to Scarlett.
Pissing her off might not have been a good idea, since I might still be able to press her for information on the weak points in this place. And, also, because if Max was being truthful, she’s a pretty impressive specimen.
I take the temporary freedom to shower on my own, search the bathroom drawers for any weapons to use in the future—there’s nothing in the unlocked drawers, not even a fucking toothbrush—and then take a seat on the bed. Another person might be irritated with the lack of entertainment here, I don’t mind as much as I should. Dagon rarely gave me anything to entertain myself with, and when he did, it was usually a trick of some sort. I’m comfortable in my owncompany—I enjoy silence much more than any of the other shit I’ve had to grow accustomed to.
Unfortunately, the silence doesn’t last long. A small flutter starts up in my chest when Max opens the door and strides in.Must be something health-related. There’s no way I’m excited to see my captor, andcertainlyno way that I’m actually enjoying his company. That’s just not possible.
Max settles in the doorway, folding his hands into his pockets. He spends a full minute staring at me in silence, not saying anything, expression blank.
Finally, he says softly, “Kneel.”
It takes me a moment to comprehend his words, and when I do, I release a laugh. “Pardon me?”
He doesn’t seem offended. “On the floor, in front of the bed. Hands on your thighs, head tilted down.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Not in the slightest. You have thirty seconds before I make you.”
I spend most of those seconds fighting a war with myself. He wants me to submit to his depravities, and if I refuse, he’ll hurt me. The pain isn’t a deterrent; what deters me is the possibility that he’ll do something to hinder my ability to escape from here. I have a mental clock ticking down the hours until I have to get out of here or face unimaginable consequences. Now isn’t the time to antagonize Max.
So, I push away my dignity—something I’m quite used to doing—and force myself off the bed and onto the floor. I assume the degrading position Max requested of me, hands on my thighs, fingernails digging in so harshly they dent the fabric of the pants he gave me and nearly dig into my skin.
“Head forward, please,” Max reminds me.
Just take it for a bit longer, Ember. Then, you can kill him and get out of here. I tilt my head forward and glare daggers at the floor.
“Beautiful,” Max says. “Good girl.”
