“But he knew.” He traced little circles down my arm. “He knew who I was since the exhibition.”
My gut flipped on itself and pinched my insides. I could feel the anger rising in me with each new revelation. Every memory became corrupted with what I knew now, exposing everything in a new light. Why must everyone hide things from me as if I were a child in need of protection? I could have protected myself if I had known these important details beforehand. Now, they were useless to me.
Luka slipped me off his lap. “Well! That sums up my duties for the day. You’ll be staying in here tonight—food will be brought to you,” he explained, looking back at me as he paused before the doorway. “Welcome home,” he chirped before closing the door, locking it once it snapped in place.
With the room to myself, I finally looked around. It looked more fitting for a spoiled pet than a person. There was very little furniture, one of which was a lounging chaise in front of the large window, but it did not look like it could open. Aside fromthat, there was the bed, and many pillows and folded wool blankets were neatly placed on the chaise. I was not even afforded the decency of a mirror.
The walls were blank and gray with a few cracks in the paint, a testimony to their forgotten state. This was a haphazardly organized prison.
I moved sheepishly toward the window and looked out. I saw a field surrounding the property until it hit the tree line. Luka walked out the front door with someone while he smoked. I recognized the other man as Nikolai, his allegedpeer. He spotted me from the corner of his eye and gave me an innocent wave before returning to his conversation.
My face twisted in disgust when I saw him, turning back toward the room. Snatching one of the wool blankets neatly folded on the chaise, I wrapped myself in it. My mind tried to retrace my steps. Where were my clothes? I needed my purse with the poison in it. There was no knowing what they were planning, but I could not stay unarmed for long.
I crawled onto the bed, staring at the small cracks in the paint as I tried to think.
What is real? What do I know now?
Viktor’s real name was Luka. Luka was a psychopath for hire. Silas and Phoebe were siblings. Phoebe had been a Vipera this whole time, though she was young. I was being added to a collection of Hosts in a Nest. I was at a Nest now. I was in the countryside. I was at one of Mr. Aston’s properties, who was also their father. Mr. Aston had also been grooming me to prepare me for this fate, either out of mercy or malice.
I groaned and gripped my throbbing head. This was all a lot for me to absorb, but I was trying my best to screw my head on straight before I had to face it head-on.
The only thing that kept me comfortable was knowing thatthey weren’t going to kill me based on what Luka had explained, though that did not mean they would not take turns breaking me. The worst part was that everyone I thought would look for me I could not trust to come for me at all.
Everyone I knew had been keeping things from me.
I did not know any of these people anymore.
While the situationwas less than ideal, the mattress was expensive and I slept better than the dead. I had been asleep from the minute they left me alone until the next morning, embracing sleep as the depression wrapped around my limbs and sucked all the energy out of me. It was useless to ignore the helpless feeling. My wick was extinguished at the end of my metaphorical candle—no more wax to burn. I might as well use the opportunity to rest.
As I lay there quietly, the maids came in and out to collect the uneaten trays of food. I never moved from my spot on the bed, and the maids did not disturb me.
A sharp sting suddenly bloomed on my wounded shoulder, and I whipped around, snagging the pale hand.
She yelped at the sudden movement.
“Phoebe.” My eyes widened.
“Alina—”
“What have you done?” My expression twisted painfully.
She avoided my gaze.
I yanked her arm to pull her toward me. “Did you hear me?” I shouted.
She looked pathetic. Like a dog that was caught doing something she was not supposed to. How weak could she be to letthem do something like this? After everything I had done for her, she could not find it in her to trust me? To tell me the truth? My emotions were getting the best of me, but I had less empathy for her now. I squeezed her wrist tighter.
“Y-you’re hurting me,” she said tightly.
“Good. You deserve it,” I sneered. “Since you think yourselfsocapable that you neglected to warn me of any real danger, you are going to get me out.” My words cut like a cold blade.
I could feel her holding back her judgment.
“I can’t,” she whispered, having difficulty looking at me.
“What do you mean you can’t?” I hissed at her, sitting up.
“I don’t know what to do. They’re watching. Listening,” she said quietly, and looked at me sympathetically.
