The words seemed to echo around the room after they left my mouth. Nolan tensed, but Amos went still. So still he barely looked human at all.
Slowly, his gaze slid back to me. All amusement was wiped from his face, nothing but cold left behind.
“Oh?” His voice was soft, like the whisper of snow blowing in the bitter wind.
“You think this makes you powerful?” I pressed, my voice quaking, but no less sharp. “You’re hiding in an abandoned building, threatening people who actually have something to lose. That’s not power. That’s cowardice.”
They were both cowards.
Nolan sucked in a sharp breath.
Amos tilted his head, studying me. I’d probably gone too far, but I didn’t care. Maybe if he killed me now, Roman wouldn’t come.
My pulse thundered in my ears, but I forced myself not to look away.
Then, a smile crept over Amos’s mouth, showing his white teeth. “Nolan,” he said, voice low. “I think you should check that everything is prepared in the receiving area.”
Nolan shifted in my peripheral. “I already—”
“Now!” Amos barked.
Nolan didn’t say another word and exited the room.
That left Amos and me alone, and my burst of rage sputtered out under his icy expression.
He walked closer, each step measured, like he was stalking prey.
My throat started to close up, and every instinct I had was to thrash and try to get away. But blood already oozed from my wrists, and any further movement would only make it worse.
I stayed still, like a deer in the forest that knew it was being hunted.
As he moved, he took something out of his pocket that sent my mind spiraling in terror.
A knife.
Vomit burned at the back of my throat as he unsheathed it, gazing at the blade glinting in the dim electric lanterns hung around the room.
He sighed, almost longingly, as he reached the desk where I laid.
“It’s been so long since I’ve truly enjoyed myself,” he mused.
It was about six inches long, serrated on one side.
A knife exactly like the one described in the documentaries. The one he used to kill his many women victims.
I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing on not throwing up.
I shouldn’t have been so reckless and said those things. That wasn’t who I was.
Something cold pressed against my chin.
“Open your eyes,” Amos purred.
I did.
He used the knife to lift my gaze to meet his. He looked so inhuman, with his shiny skin that was pulled too tight.
He leaned toward me and whispered, “You’re feistier than I thought, hmm?”
