Without looking away from him, I kiss the center of his palm. He softly smiles as he pulls me up on my toes then delicately kisses my forehead. “I’ll love you for a lifetime.”
The admission fucks with my head and I turn cold, dragging his hand down to my neck, refusing to acknowledge his gentleness. He grips my neck, forcefully pushing me through the gap between the drapes, gritting, “You’re such a useless fucking bitch. Go to sleep until I have to fuck you again.”
He throws me on the bed then unties the opaque tulle from the four posts. They flow down, partially covering me before he storms into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I stare at the ceiling, listening to the water run as the pipes creak, then discreetly search the corners of the bed posts. We’ll need to change the drapes for privacy. I don’t think Helene will give us a redecorating budget for our prison though. We could steal something out of another room, or some boards and nail them to the posts so the bed is fully sealed off from her intrusive surveillance.
Then I begin thinking about my baby.
I don’t even know what part of the world they’re in. Could they be looking at the stars right now or a sunrise? Are they happy? At school?
Questions are all I have. Questions with no definitive way to get answers.
The shower turns off and Kane comes back in only his boxers, holding a towel. He doesn’t look at me as he gets under the sheets, or when the side of his arm presses against me as I lay above the sheets.
“I’ll find you some clothes tomorrow,” he whispers. “You can use this…so you don’t have to feel me next to you.”
I climb under the covers, finding his hand as I lay on my back. He latches onto me, holding my bicep with his other hand as he shuffles closer, both of us staring up at the ceiling.
“She wants me to go somewhere,” he whispers.
“Where?”
“No idea, but your plan’s working, koukla mou.”
He squeezes my hand in alternating bursts—one short squeeze, a longer one, then a shorter one.
“I miss pretending to be him.” He gets closer as he turns to face me. “You laughed with me and I could hold you.”
“Me too,” I admit.
While he thinks about being Asher, I miss Ghost. It’s insane, but Ghost was the one who made me feel normal. When Kane was pretending to be Asher, I was alone, putting up a front of what he thought I was supposed to be. In a way, I reverted back to who I was as a teenager—trying to keep the peace—so I believed everything he told me even though my memories contradicted him. I didn’t have to with Ghost. I could scream or cry without any judgment despite his open hate.
I close my eyes on a soundless, shaky laugh at the realization I found comfort in someone admitting they hated me rather than hurting me while telling me they loved me.
“I hated it,” Kane whispers. “I hated you saying his name, forcing me to remember it wasn’tmeyou were with. In the end, you still chose him.”
“Because you put me in a coffin with rats.”
“Rat,” he corrects. “You’re lucky I didn’t stretch your ass open to let it crawl inside you like…” He shakes the thought away.
“You’re like him, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry.”
“You never used to be, so maybe you can get help?”
“Some people are born with the need to hurt others, some…” He sighs, falling silent. “Some are too afraid to be the ones who are hurt so they have to do it first.” He turns over on his stomach, burying his face in the pillow beside my head. “Thatplace fucked with my head, Delilah. I can’t be around people anymore; I don’t know how to exist in society. Half of the shit never existed when I was locked up. It’s all different, even cars are fucking weird now.”
“I’ll help you adjust.”
“You can’t. There’s no slow adjustment to the advancements of society or social etiquettes. Prison sends you back in time, where everything is about survival.” He looks at me with visceral pain etched across his features. “Do you know what being locked up does? It makes you comfortable with the most depraved parts of society, so when you leave you will never fit in. I was innocent. I’d never dreamed about taking a life, but I witnessed multiple deaths while I was there.”
“Did you kill someone?”
“I tried to. Seven times.” He sounds so disappointed about failing at murder. “And then,” he whispers, wrapping his arm around my waist, “there was one stubborn idiot who refused to give up on me, and I’m indebted to him.”
“Who was it?”
Please don’t say it was Rowan.
