Page 62 of The Shadow Sanctum

And yet, I’ve already forgiven him.

“If you lay a hand on Angel or order anyone to lay a hand on Angel, that’s it for me.” He shakes his head. “I will never move past it… He’s family. Do you understand?”

I dip my chin. “Understood.”

“Any other secrets you’d like to share?” He splays his palms then lets them fall to his sides.

I look off for a moment, thinking. “I found a note inside a metal table leg in your old room… I’d like to know what it’s for.”

Sawyer gives me the slightest crooked smile, his head tipping to the side. “Well, that’s my secret, but sure. They’re your bank account numbers. And passwords.”

My head lurches back. “What?”

He nods.

“But… how?”

“Your computer password is the author of our favorite book plus the date of publication. It wasn’t hard to crack.”

Our favorite book.

He never lied about that.

I feel the heat rush to my face and try to remind myself it’s only him I’m so obvious to. That I’m not such a pathetically open book to the world.

“They’re useless to me now because your accounts are most likely already frozen. Which was Angel’s doing.”

Sawyer chuckles at whatever look of shock must cross my expression. “This is kind of fun.”

By the tightness that pinches my cheeks, he must know I disagree. “Is it?”

He shrugs.

Fun. Honesty is fun. My surprise at learning of his deception is fun.

All right, then.

Let’s play.

“I never planned to execute Liberty. I only wanted to watch you squirm when I informed you of it.”

Sawyer smiles as his hands lift, fingers wiggling. “Oh, boy. Good one.”

“Do you remember in the training house when I gave you the rest of my dinner? The soup?”

He blinks, bored like he has no memory, but I know he does. I had listened to him bitch and moan for days at that point about the Cultivator meals we’d been served—mostly vegetables. Zephyr was bringing him things, I could tell, but still, I watched him fight his growing hunger and disappointment each evening when he returned with dinner.

Then finally, finally, they served something promising. Meat for his poor, withering muscles. Even though we had had no contact for two weeks at that point, I knew it was Raven’s doing. A little gift for her younger sister.

I watched him eat in silence, and then I couldn’t resist insisting I wasn’t hungry, and that he should have the second bowl. Hunger has never felt so satisfying.

“Well, it was Karu."

His face falls as color drains, his skin turning the shade of the moon. My lips tug, but I resist the urge to say anything more.

It’s his turn.

“There weren’t any cameras in the bedroom,” he says, his voice hollow. “There was no purpose in fucking you there other than me wanting to.”