“Embrace the glorious mess that you are.”
—Elizabeth Gilbert
“Really. I’m not hungry.” Emmy’s stomach growls as she stares past the doorway at the dining table, the scent of eggs and bacon wafting into the hall.
Grabbing my phone, I pull up my text thread with Aubrey. “Your stomach disagrees.” My fingers dart across the keypad, but when Emmy still doesn’t move, I shift my eyes to her. I didn’t plan on doing a kill in front of her; however, I haven’t exactly worked out how to leave her behind either. Regardless of Raife’s motives, Murphy is finally coming, and I’m going to end him. “The next twenty-four hours are going to be ... eventful. You don’t eat now, you might miss your chance. And your appetite.”
She frowns but eyes the table again, her feet slowly moving toward it this time. “All right.”
As she makes her way to the table, I stay in the hall and wrap up my text to Aubrey.
Me: Look into the agency Emmy’s sister went to work with. I want to know who they are and how they were able to contact her while she was here. Also, confirm that she did arrive and when.
Aubrey: Yes, Master.
Slipping my phone into my pocket, I glance up to see Griff walking my way.
He stops right in front of me. “Big day ahead.”
I clench my teeth when he flicks his gaze to Emmy. “I thought we talked about the new rule, brother. You don’t get to look at her.”
His eyes flash, and he doesn’t answer. But he does look away from her.
“You guys should be proud,” I murmur, taking a step toward him until we’re almost nose to nose. “Going behind my back twice in two days.”
Griff’s lips twist up. “Someone needed to move forward, whether it was you or Raife, and you know it. Raife just happens to be the one getting the ball rolling. Who am I to deny him?”
“Considerate.”
He narrows his gaze. “I didn’t come find you to rehash.”
“So spit it the fuck out already.”
“There’ve been some changes this morning. One of your kills is going to be here sooner than expected.”
A snarl works through my throat, and I grab Griff’s collar, pushing him back against the wall. “You have no business fucking with my plans. There’s a reason I’ve been slowing them down.”
“Yeah?” He shoves my hand off him and pushes off the wall. “You guys may have saved my life, but when you start treating a chick better than your brothers, you need to look at your fucking priorities.”
We stare at each other for a minute, him looking as aggravated as I feel, and for the first time in a long while, I remember it.
The day I met Griff.
(Fourteen years old)
Fists slam down on the table, the teen’s body straining against the straps as he fights. Katerina walks a slow circle around him, trailing a fingernail along his body as she does.
“So many scars,” she whispers. “Poor Griffin. You’ve suffered so much.”
He huffs through her coaxes, still not saying a word. He’s refused to speak since she began this interview almost an hour ago.
“You can fight. You can kick and growl like an animal,” she murmurs. “But you will eventually have to speak.” She flicks her gaze around the room. “Do you see this small space? It feels cramped with the two cages and my artwork, doesn’t it? But this, this is a lot more than just a room. There’s history in these steel walls. You see, bomb shelters have many uses, many models, and this one in particular has a way of holding everything inside its walls. There’s not so much as a crack beneath the door to let its essence out, and such closeness allows my art to speak to me long after my subjects are gone.” She pulls back and inhales sharply. “Can’t you smell them?”
I close my eyes for a split second and swallow. Not because of what she’s saying, but because I can.
I can smell them.
Sofia jumps when the steel door swings open. Baldy’s fingers grip No Name’s arm as he shoves him toward my cage. The kid is naked, glaring and using his hands to cup his shit. I knew he was taken for pictures; I should have guessed they would have been nude.
