When I looked up again, my father was watching me with something close to pride. Or regret. Maybe both. “Don’t make me bury another Corvo.”
My lips twitched. “Have a little faith, Pops. I learned everything I know from you.”
“That’s what scares me.”
I had all the pieces now. I just had to put them into play.
9
KAYLOR
The last dying rays of sunlight filtered through the cracks from the boarded window, painting the walls in thin strips of amber and rust. I’d been watching those shadows creep across the floor for hours, marking time like a countdown to the end of my life. That’s what it felt like; I was waiting for my doom. When the light finally faded to nothing, leaving only the soft twinkling of starlight, I knew my time was up.
The door to my room went through its usual series of clicks before groaning open, and my already racing heart sped up, feeling as if it was about to leap out of my chest. Two guards entered first, hulking shadows absorbing what little light remained in the space. The first one had shoulders broad enough to block out a doorway. His partner was lean but no less intimidating with biceps straining against his black shirt.
Behind them, Silvia swept in, making a dramatic entrance as if she were at some high-society gala, and I’d been to a few galas growing up. She missed the mark. It was evident she was trying too damn hard to be someone she wasn’t. Every inch of her was polished and perfect, her sleek raven hair twisted into an elegant chignon andher blood-red lips curved in that predatory smile I’d come to despise. She wore a charcoal-gray pantsuit and twinkling diamond earrings.
“Time to shine, darling,” she said smoothly, snapping her manicured fingers once.
The guards moved to do her bidding, their massive hands clamping down on my arms like steel manacles. They untied my restraints, hauling me off the bed without giving me a chance to gain my bearings. Everything fucking hurt from being in the same position for hours. My legs were tingling and numb and buckled under me, but the guards, like pillars at my side, kept me from crumbling to the floor.
“Let’s get you cleaned up. Take her into the bathroom,” she instructed.
I had a sick feeling they weren’t going to let me shower in peace, and I desperately wanted to bathe but not with an audience. That dreaded feeling turned into reality as Silvia started to undress me while the two guards held me upright.
Without thinking, I smacked her hand away. Hard. I didn’t want her to touch me, and I sure as hell didn’t want her to take my clothes off even if they were grimy.
Her gasp echoed off the tiles, and before I could brace myself, her palm cracked across my cheek. The sting burned, my head flying sideways. Heat flooded my skin, my cheeks flaring red, not from the slap but from the humiliation. My throat ached with the urge to fight back, but I bit it down, swallowing the fury, forcing stillness.Save your strength. Save it for when it matters.
Silvia cocked a brow at me. “Resisting only makes you look weak.” She yanked the shirt from my shoulders, tearing it over my head. The pants were next until I had not a stitch of clothing left. This was part of their roadmap to obedience, stripping us down, treating us less than human.Fuck her. Fuck Rusty. Fuck this whole place. They won’t break me.I lifted my chin right before she shoved me into the steaming shower, the spray hitting me like needles.
Exposed and vulnerable, I let her scrub me raw, my bodytrembling with anger instead of fear. By the time they dragged me back to my room, my skin was pink and my wet hair plastered to my face. Silvia rolled a plush sherpa chair to the center of the room, and her cronies dropped me into it. They positioned a vanity in front of me. A rolling cart clattered across the floor, its surface stacked with rows of brushes sorted by size and purpose, palettes of foundation in every conceivable shade, tubes of lipstick, eyeshadows, powders, and concealers. An entire arsenal designed to transform me into someone else’s fantasy. Tools of disguise. Tools of deception. Tools to erase the last traces of who I really was.
I wouldn’t make it easy for them.
The drying process of my hair took three times as long as it should have, but whatever I could do to stall what came next, I was going to take it. Silvia looked upon with a deep frown, a knowing glint in her irate eyes. I wasn’t the first difficult girl she had to deal with, that much was clear, but I didn’t give a shit how many times her hand cracked the side of my cheek. I’d take the pain now to avoid a lifetime of agony.
When the first assistant, a mousy brunette with nervous hands, reached for my hair with a curling iron, I jerked my head violently to the side. The heated barrel missed my ear by inches, and I felt a savage satisfaction when she jumped back with a startled yelp.
“Careful with that,” Silvia warned with an edge, but she was watching me, not her assistant.
The second assistant, a tall redhead with cold eyes, knelt to fit a heel on my foot. My leg shot out, my sole connecting with her shoulder. She fell backward into the cart. “Goddamn it,” the redhead hissed, pushing herself up as she shot daggers at me.
When a third woman tried to force a tube of frosted pink lipstick against my mouth, I snapped at her finger, and she shrieked, jerking her hand back so fast she knocked over a bottle of foundation.
“Stop being a brat,” Silvia hissed, taking my chin into her piercing grasp.
I met her gaze, letting her see every ounce of hatred burning in my eyes. “Go to hell.”
Silvia scarily smiled back at me, but nothing about her features was friendly. Her eyes narrowed to cold slits. “Hold her,” she ordered.
The first guard positioned himself behind my chair, his enormous hands settling on my shoulders. The second guard dropped to one knee beside me, his fingers wrapping around my wrists and pinning them to the chair’s armrests. When I tried to kick, he simply shifted, trapping my legs between his knees.
I thrashed against their grip, but they were immovable as mountains. All I managed to do was waste my energy. “Let me fucking go!” I cried. “Please, just let me?—”
Silvia reached into a drawer on the rolling cart, and when I saw the glint of the syringe in her fingers, my stomach plunged.
“No—don’t—” I fought harder now, desperate to stay awake, to stay lucid. The guards’ grips tightened, fingers digging into my flesh. “Please, I’ll cooperate, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t—” But it didn’t matter. My pleas fell on deaf ears.
