Chapter 8 - Elowyn
ELOWYN
“Who are you?” I whisper to the pictures on the wall.
For some reason, I left them there. Couldn’t bring myself to tear them down.
It felt like a test, one I didn’t yet understand, but knew I was being judged on.
Didn’t mean I had to like it.
Even after my shower, I couldn’t walk past them without bile rising in my throat.
So instead of looking at the messed-up collage, I practiced my speech. Something The Restorer couldn’t dismiss. Words he couldn’t brush aside.
I’d been at it for hours. Sitting on the bed in my dress. Legs crossed as I stared out the window while day turned into night.
Demands, pleas, and accusations ran through my head. I kept reshaping them as I tried to balance between being respectful and firm.
Throughout the day, Mary delivered soup and tea to my room twice. I hate to admit it, but she was right. It did help.
Now, after my second shower, I’m no longer terribly nauseated by what happened. By wearing this…dress.
All because I’ve figured out what went wrong. It was a communication issue.
Boundaries weren’t set.
It’s no one’s fault, really. A misunderstanding I’m going to resolve tonight. Soon.
Mary will be coming to get me in a few minutes. I know, because she brought me a small clock to put on the dresser. Until then…
“Who are you?” I repeat the hushed question.
A cold, crawling awareness climbs my spine as I trace the places he captured. My navel, my pinky, the fragile crook of my neck.
And then—oh God.
The reason these images have this visceral impact on me finally clicks.
Yes, they’re invasive. Yes, they’re obscene.
That’s not the whole story.
This… This is a message.
The arrangement is deliberate. Distorted on purpose.
It tells me whoever took these was someone whose attraction has twisted into hate. Whose fixation is dark and dangerous.
He knows me, or worse. He’s stalked me long enough to believe that he does. And that makes him hate either me or his obsession.
My hands clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms in an effort to keep me conscious.
It doesn’t help. It only sends more panic through me.
Because thinking about my situation makes one frightening truth clear.
Knowing who The Restorer is won’t save me. He’s angry, and anger turns men into monsters.
A shiver skates up my spine.
I’m not safe here.
Can’t leave either.
Barclay, despite denying it, needs me to stay.
I rub my face, imploring myself to have faith. To believe The Restorer doesn’t resent me enough to shut me out tonight. Or worse.
Three raps on the door have me gasping.
“Come in,” I say, while internally scolding myself for being so jittery.
Mary steps inside, hands clasped in front of her. She looks fresh, as she has all day. As if nothing’s changed.
Everything’s changed. Me, my world, my life.
“Miss Montgomery.” She’s been formal again since lunch. Probably since she realized I wasn’t the wounded bird I’d been in the bathroom that morning.
To be honest, I don’t like her putting up that wall between us.
I have no idea how tonight will end. Part of me suspects that The Restorer might not hear me out. That he could be violent. Dangerous. A man who drugged me isn’t past killing me on a whim, right?
If there’s even the smallest chance I might die here, I want to be remembered as a person, not Miss Montgomery.
“Elowyn.” I stop fidgeting, stand up taller, and flip my hair back. “We agreed you’d call me Elowyn, right?”
“Yes.” She gives me a clipped nod. “We did. But if you don’t mind, I’d rather stick to Miss Montgomery. You can call me anything you like.”
Did The Restorer notice she’d been friendly toward me? Did he tell her to stop?
That hardly matters. You need to talk to her about the taxes and the eviction. Remember?
Right.
I’ve had hours to think about how to bring up the taxes when I finally meet The Restorer, aside from practicing my speech. The problem is, I can’t. Anything I say will sound like a demand, especially on top of my no-touch rule. The important one.
But Mary will listen. More importantly, she has the power to help.
After all, she’s the one who had me fill out the forms with my bank details over dinner. Back then, I was still confused and shaken. It never occurred to me to ask about sending a first payment to cover the property taxes.
I’m not confused anymore.
“Okay, Mary,” I say, my voice even. “So, I hope it’s okay, but I have a couple of requests before we leave.”
“Of course, Miss Montgomery.” She cuts her eyes to the clock, then me. “Anything.”
“I don’t need to tell you that my brother and I are late on the property taxes for our home.
” The memory of the thick envelope from the council tightens my stomach.
“They’re going to evict us. That’s why I don’t want the money going through my brother just yet.
I need the first payment handled directly. ”
“Herbert will deal with the county first thing in the morning. Consider it done.” Mary doesn’t hesitate. “What’s next?”
Relief loosens something in my chest. Just a little. Because now comes the hard part.
“The second thing I need help with…” I wring my hands, my nerves getting the better of me. “If The Restorer kills me, tell my brother I’m gone. For good. The bills, the pain meds… He needs to know it’s time to start taking care of himself.”
Mary opens her mouth, but I’m not done.
“I’m not asking you to rat out your boss. Just tell Barclay I won’t be coming back.”
“He won’t kill you.” Her confidence doesn’t reassure me. “However, the answer is yes. In the highly unlikely event that something does happen to you, your brother will be notified.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” She motions toward the door. “Come on. Time to go.”
I should ask for shoes or slippers. Underwear too.
But something tells me that getting me these items, unlike paying my taxes, isn’t up to her.
“Okay,” I say, rushing to follow Mary.
The stone floor is warm beneath my bare feet, the hallways darker than before. My body tenses with each room we pass, the couple of turns we take. The deeper we go, the clearer it becomes—this house is a labyrinth.
Getting out in case there’s an emergency would be hell. I do my best to memorize the path, praying I won’t need it.
“This way,” Mary quips, disappearing into a narrow staircase.
I catch up to her, holding my dress to keep the hem off the floor and away from my feet.
The steps spiral upward, going on and on until we reach the top. Mary stands by a wide, black door. She puts a finger to her lips, the universal gesture for silence.
Obeying her verges on the impossible. I can’t help shifting on my feet, fighting the urge to storm in there and demand he speak to me. The faster we end this, the faster I can return to my room and sleep off this terrible day. Either that, or I’ll close my eyes for the last time.
I pray I won’t.
Mary steps toward me, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
“Shh.” Quickly and efficiently, she tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t you worry about a thing. You’ll be fine.”
It’s like she’s heard my thoughts. Or maybe she feels the need to soothe me, to reassure me I won’t die here.
My chest is warm for a second before my nerves get the best of me again.
“Mary?”
“Quiet, Miss Montgomery. It’s time.”
She curls her hand into a fist and raps her knuckles against the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
No one answers.
She opens it anyway, stepping aside to beckon me in.
The Restorer still doesn’t greet us. Not even now, as we stand in the doorway. I don’t see him. Don’t hear him. No shadow cuts through the dim light, no movement at all.
I expected a violent monster to lunge at me. Or a cocky man to treat me like he owned me, same as he did last night.
This… What is this?
I don’t know, and it terrifies me.
That’s why, instead of prowling in and launching into the speech I rehearsed, I freeze. My feet refuse to cooperate. My mouth goes dry. My tongue turns heavy.
“Go on,” Mary whispers.
Though she might like me, she has her orders. I get that. It’s fine.
I’ll follow his orders too. I’ll play along, but only after I draw my line in the sand.
I’ve got this.
Chin lifted, I step inside.
Mary’s warm hand lands on the small of my back. Her touch doesn’t feel invasive. If anything, it steadies me. Grounds me.
But then the air shifts, becoming somehow denser.
My pulse is all over the place as she guides me toward the only light source in the room.
A lone beam falls from the ceiling, illuminating a low, square pedestal, no higher than two or three steps.
Everything beyond that light is swallowed by darkness. Pitch-black.
There, in the cover of the shadows, The Restorer is waiting. Watching. Measuring. Hunting me.
The hair on the back of my neck stands. My hands twitch at my sides.
Get it together. He’s only a man.
A man who took off my clothes. Who touched me. Who demanded I wear this see-through garment.
Oh no.
I forgot to button the dress. I must have gotten used to it over the last few hours.
A rush of heat crawls up my neck before I remind myself that the tiny button won’t do me any good.
Hugging myself might help, though. My heavy arms move, crossing over my chest to cover my breasts. Nothing I can do about my pussy.
Nothing I could do about my breasts either if The Restorer decides to…handle me once Mary is gone.
At that, my stomach knots tight. My teeth knock together.
By the time we reach the pedestal, I’m shaking with fear.
I’m scared of him. Of myself, too. Of the inexplicable pull drawing me toward the sick stage waiting for me where I can’t see him.
Even as every instinct I have screams for me to run, I’m gravitating toward it.
What the hell is going on?
Mary picks up on my hesitation and gives me a slight nudge. My legs tremble as I climb onto the pedestal.
“Mary?” The light beam feels like it’s closing in on me. My ribs, they’re pressed in, digging into my lungs. I don’t want to be left alone with The Restorer. “Can you stay?”