“I don’t want you to, either,” he said softly.
She pushed away from him. “I want to leave.”
“I did warn you,” he sighed. “But yes. Let’s get out of here—or my father might punish me for yet another transgression.” He’d foreshadowed as much at the wedding, the threatening,you will soon.
And now, Cal understood exactly what that meant.
“What transgressions?” Nadine asked.
“When I was seventeen, I fell for a deer.”
“A girl, you mean?” she corrected sharply.
“Yes, a girl. A human girl. Father found out and put a stop to it. He had Ben kill her in front of me. To show me how little value they held for us. And I pretended to feel nothing but I think they both knew that for the lie it was.”
(We all know you have a soft touch)
“They . . . killed her?” Nadine was aghast. “In front of you?”
“It’s the betrayal in her eyes that I really remember. You looked at me that way, too. When I was inside of you. When you realized that it was me who held you down in that mine.”
Her breathing faltered, as if she were finally beginning to comprehend what might be at stake. Looking up at him on the steps, bathed in the yellow light from the kitchen, she appeared to glow despite the darkness attempting to devour her hopeful shine.
“Can a monster feel regret?” he asked her.
A shadow fell over her before she could respond. Cal turned, instinctively putting Nadine behind him. Whatever she had been about to say was swallowed up by the loud bang of the cellar door slamming closed, plunging the two of them into darkness.
And then, Cal heard the rusty shriek of the bolt being driven home.
C H A P T E R
S I X T E E N
unholy benediction
They know.
That was his first thought. That his family, with their penchant for sniffing out betrayal, had noticed their absence from the main house, and someone—Ben—had taken it upon himself to follow them down to the basement.
God only knew what they’d overheard, or what they’d decided to make of it. It didn’t take a lot for his family to close ranks, and he was already in deep breach of confidence.
“Don’t scream.” The words were cold and composed. Distanced. He sounded like his father. Nadine’s head whipped towards him, shocked. “Go get one of those wine bottles I showed you earlier and bring it here,” he ordered.
“B-but—”
“Shh.” Cal gave her a shoulder a squeeze with numbed fingers. “Go.”
“You’re going to use it to open the door?”
“No.” Cal didn’t elaborate, using the beam of his phone to illuminate the path he wanted her to take. She steeled herself, drawing in a miserable breath before descending back into the darkness at his command. Her fingers gripped the stair rail like she was trying to strangle it, her body shaking so hard that he could see it in her shadow, which had become tattooed over the dust-covered racks of wine like a photograph that had become affected by double exposure.
Poor little misery. What had he gotten her into? Seeing her move amongst all those hanging carcasses prepped from the slaughter made him remember Noelle and that fatal night, and an uncharacteristic sensation pulled at his ribs, making it hard to breathe. He shook it off, straightening against that memory of acrid smoke and death.Never, he swore.
No one was going to take her from him. He wouldn’t lose another girl to the woods.
She yanked a bottle out of the rack, sending up a cloud of dust that she half-stumbled from, running up the stairs with her fingers strangling the neck of the bottle. Her eyes had an animal shine in the milky light and she reared back from him when he reached out. “No!”
“It’s just me,” he said redundantly. “Did you get the bottle?”
