Chapter Thirty-Eight
Juliet
He’s safe.
He’s here.
My emotions are a storm, all the stress of the last hour collapsing on me at once. Hell, all the stress of the last two months or however the fuck long I’ve been here. I don’t know whether to kiss Hadrian or punch him. I settle for dropping my head to his chest and letting him hold me.
Objectively, nothing has changed. I’m still a captive, and this is still a cult where I don’t trust anyone besides the man currently clutching me like he’s drowning.
But things feel different, and right now, I don’t want to prod at why.
All I want to do is cuddle my husband and pretend the last five years never happened.
He saved me.
He’d die for me.
And he can keep you in line, too. Just like you always wanted.
For once, I don’t bother arguing with that voice. I’ve always craved a master. I just never imagined it could be him.
Maybe later, once the adrenaline drains away and my emotions settle, I’ll feel differently. But for now, I’m happy. Actually happy.
The big guy’s harsh British voice over the speakers makes me jump. “Copy, sir. Moving in.”
So he is security. I knew there was no way he could be a scientist. Hadrian and Eve must have been winding me up.
Hadrian says, “Let’s watch this,” and shifts so his arm wraps my back and we can both see the monitors. Candice only fills one now. The rest show POV shots from four slightly different angles.
They approach a door. It doesn’t look like anything special, but instead of kicking it in, someone sticks something to it. The guys back off, the big guy says, “Clear,” and an explosion blasts through the speakers.
I flinch, and Hadrian tightens his grip around me. “Are you okay? We can leave if you like.”
“No. I’m good. I want to see.”
Candice gave the big guy a rundown on what happened when he arrived, then I heard it again when the boss showed up. I do want to see this. I need to see the man—Dimitry—who was willing to kill me and Hadrian just because Hadrian beat him to a discovery. What a pathetic bastard.
Anger strengthens me, and I focus on the screen as the team rushes through the door. The next minute is a rush of movement and shouts. They seem to know where Dimitry will be, as they all head the same direction. A booted foot kicks in a door, and I get my first look at him.
The monster is an average-looking guy, tall and lean with short blond hair. He presses against the wall like a cornered animal as the team rushes in. Beside him is a bank of monitors similar to Hadrian’s, and they show Candice’s faked video feeds.
It’s eerie, seeing myself slumped in a chair and Hadrian seated on the altar, clutching my sketch book. The timer counts down, and there’s only seven minutes left.
If it weren’t for Candice, Hadrian would have seven minutes left to live.
Dimitry obeys the big guy’s shouted instructions, dropping to his knees and placing his hands behind his back. Once he’s secured, the team splits up, cameras moving in a confusing jumble as they check the rest of the house. One tries a door, finds it locked, and kicks it in.
A woman sits on a low single bed, hands pressed to her face, shoulders shaking. The soldier pulls up short and asks, “His Ward, sir. What shall I do with her?”
The big guy answers, “Hold up. I’ll talk to her.”
What? This monster, who almost gassed us, had a Ward? Fuck. That poor woman. I don’t even want to think about what she might have gone through.
I watch through the soldier’s camera as the big guy approaches the woman. His voice is surprisingly gentle as he says, “We’re taking your Patron into custody. You need to come with us too, but you’re not in any trouble, okay? We just need to ask you a few questions.”
The boss speaks. “Thank you, Jacob. I’ll meet you in detention shortly. Cut the feed.”
I’m not sure if the last instruction was aimed at Jacob, Candice, or Hadrian’s computer, but someone did as they were told, as all the monitors except for Candice’s go black.
The boss approaches, and Hadrian stiffens behind me.
He speaks before the boss does, “Kendrick, I’d like to introduce my Ward, Juliet. ”
Those elocution lessons might have had some value after all. Kendrick, with his immaculate suit and sharp, regal features, reminds me of old British nobility. The sort of man who would appreciate good grammar and pronunciation.
And right before Hadrian turned up, I was yelling in his face. He doesn’t seem inclined to bring it up, though, as he gives me a polite nod and says, “Very pleased to meet you.”
Am I pleased to meet him? The guy who runs this cult? Not really, but the pull toward politeness is just too strong. “And you, too.”
Pleasantries over, Kendrick immediately focuses on Hadrian. “I’m glad to see you’re well. I’d like you to visit Medical for a checkup.”
“There’s no need, sir, Candice stopped the gas before any was released.”
“I understand that, but shock has a way of catching up with you. A checkup, please.”
Hadrian sighs but says, “Of course.”
“And tomorrow, once you’ve had a chance to recover and rest, come to the boardroom at two. I need to call a meeting.”
He doesn’t say what it’s about, but the reason is obvious. The superpowered AI who is currently chatting with Quinn, looking for all the world as though she’s not listening in. I don’t buy it for a second. She could listen in to a hundred conversations at once if she wanted to.
“I’ll be there. Thank you.”
Kendrick nods, says a few words to the Gilda, and they all leave. Quinn turns from Candice long enough to shoot Hadrian a dark look—obviously, she hasn’t forgiven him yet—then she pointedly pulls on a VR headset without a word. The pure attitude makes me smile. I might like her.
Hadrian shifts so we’re face to face. Well. That’s it. It’s all over. What now? A rock lands in my gut. Will he take me back to my cell? Before, it felt safe, if restrictive. Now, though? Even the thought of it makes my hands shake.
“My cell… I don’t want to—”
Hadrian grips my hands in his inked ones. It’s still strange seeing the marks on his skin. “You’re never going back in there. I’m taking you home.”
Home? For a second, I think he means home home. The brand-new apartment I never even got to decorate properly. But then he adds, “It’s nothing special, but it has a real bed. And a real bathroom.”
Oh my God. He said the magic words. I know it’s ridiculous, but mad, giddy excitement grips me at the thought of a hot shower. A soft mattress. Am I really so easily bought?
Yes. Yes, I am. It’s probably just the aftermath of narrowly avoiding disaster, but my endorphins are popping like crazy. Hadrian is alive. He’s here—really here, his true personality showing through at last.
He sets off toward the door, hand clutching mine, and I realize I want to follow. I want to see his home and curl up with him in bed. He’s not just my captor. He’s my Hadrian.
As we leave, I shoot a glance back at Candice and raise a hand. “Bye, Candice. Thanks again.”
She gives me a dazzling smile. “No problem. Don’t be a stranger.”
I still can’t decide if she’s amazing or terrifying.
We make a stop at a medical center, where a doctor and Ophelia check us over. It’s strange seeing Ophelia in a professional capacity, fully clothed and without a leash. She still wears her collar, though.
Hadrian catches me eyeing it and says loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll get you a collar of your own soon.”
Goddamn it, why does that make me squirm on the plastic waiting room chair? I glare at him, and he just smiles back as Ophelia and the doctor pretend they haven’t heard.
He seems elated, relaxed, and with a reckless edge that is totally new. Maybe almost dying a horrible, painful death has that effect on people, or maybe this is just how he is now. I’m not complaining.
Once the doctor declares us free to go, we set off, hand in hand, along the weirdly normal main street. Clouds cover the sun, and as if they’d been waiting for us to step outside, they open, dumping chilly rain onto us.
“Shit!” I stare down at my dress. My thin, white dress that is growing more see through with every passing second.
“It’s not far. Let’s run.”
Hadrian? Run? Maybe this guy is his evil twin after all.
He tugs my hand and sets off at a jog. Rain pelts us, and I squeal as it drives into my face, pretty much blinding me. I usually love a bit of atmospheric weather, but I was already chilly from the med center’s aggressive air conditioning. The sudden soaking has my teeth chattering.
Hadrian wraps his arm around my back, and we half run, half stumble through the storm until we reach a gray stone building. He slaps the entry plate—another biometric lock. Easy prey for any hyper-intelligent AIs that might want the door open—and we rush inside, dripping onto the marble tiles.
By the time the elevator takes us to Hadrian’s floor, I’m shivering. Charlie’s tank waits just outside his door—some poor staff member must have been tasked with spider delivery—and he lets me go to scoop it up. He opens the door and…wow.
Hadrian has changed in many ways, but his sense of style doesn’t look to be one of them.
He never lived alone whilst we were together.
He went straight from his family home to living with me at college, and I always used to tease him about how boring a house decorated by him would be.
I wasn’t wrong. It barely looks lived in.
It’s as if someone took a photo of one of those apartments businessmen rent for the week when they’re travelling and said, “Like this, please.”
It’s all gray and cream. The art on the walls provides the only splashes of color, but it’s as generically inoffensive as possible. An artsy photo of a red British post box. Another of what looks like a hummingbird landing on a branch dripping with water.
We pause on the threshold, and I clear my throat. “It’s…uh…nice.”