“She’ll come,” Marj says lightly.
I don’t let the reaction show.
“She loves you, doesn’t she?”
Silence.
Marj tilts her head.
“Oh yes. I’ve seen that look before. Makes people predictable.”
She turns toward the door.
“When she arrives—and she will—we’ll unmask her in front of everyone. Either she’s the Butcher, and I get to break her publicly… or she’s not.”
She glances back over her shoulder.
“And then I get to kill you both.”
The door seals shut behind her.
The silence afterward is louder than her voice.
I sag against the chains.
Because she’s right about one thing.
Roxy will come.
I can feel it.
Not just instinct. Not just hope. Something deeper. That bond she mentioned before I left—the thing she felt stirring under her skin.
I felt it too.
And now it’s pulling.
Like a wire strung tight between us.
She’s angry. Afraid. Determined.
I close my eyes.
“Don’t,” I mutter under my breath. “Don’t be stupid.”
But I know she will.
Because I was.
And that’s the worst part.
I thought a reckless charge would protect her. Thought if I died loudly enough, Marj would be satisfied.
Instead I gave Marj exactly what she wanted: a public villain, chained and bleeding, center stage.
And an invitation.
I flex against the restraints again. Test the give. There isn’t much.
