Chapter 10 Sima
SIMA
Inside, Petyr finally lets go of my arm.
I rub the spot where his fingers have been. “What the hell, Petyr?”
“Tell me how you got out.”
The fury in his voice should scare me, but I’m angry, too. Fucking pissed, actually. I refuse to shrink from him. After everything he’s done, he should be the one explaining himself to me, not the other way around.
“Why should I tell you?” I cross my arms. “You locked me up like a prisoner. I’ve got every right to try and get out.”
“You’ll tell me because I’m asking.”
“Try again.” I hold his gaze and don’t back down.
He doesn’t, either. Just plants his feet stubbornly between me and the locked door.
“You know, in German prisons, they don’t even add time to your sentence for escape attempts,” I huff. “They understand that it’s human to seek freedom. Maybe you should take a page out of their book and learn how to treat your captives like people.”
“What—”
“I learned that in one of the riveting reads your housekeeper graced me with,” I inform him. “Thanks for that, by the way. Real compelling stuff.”
I watch his jaw muscles work and force myself to remember I’m not supposed to find him attractive right now. He’s my jailer, and there’s nothing hot about jailers. Not even when they look sculpted by Michelangelo himself.
He steps closer. His shadow swallows me. “You will answer me.” His fingers flex impatiently at his side. “Or I swear, boring books will be the least of your problems.”
For a moment, I consider telling him the truth—that Anya didn’t lock the door when she left. If he’s got someone to blame, he won’t take it out on me. He’s never hit me before, but this new Petyr is a mystery. Not that I really think he would, even now, but he could do other things.
Like take my child from me.
My hand subconsciously flies to my belly. Right. This isn’t just about me. In fact, it’s pretty much not about me at all.
“Petyr could have killed me because of what you did. You ran while you were under my protection. Do you understand that?”
Suddenly, Luka’s words from earlier slam into me.
That’s right. He risked death because of me. I ran on his watch, and Petyr all but rearranged his face. That was the best-case scenario, too. If Petyr had wanted to punish someone—to make a true example of someone—Luka would be dead right now.
Because of me.
If Petyr thinks Anya slipped, she’ll take the blame. She’ll risk exactly what Luka risked.
Call me crazy, but I can’t do that to her. Not even with her bitchy, thousand-year stare and bland morning oatmeal.
She may be a witch, but she doesn’t deserve to die.
“The lock didn’t latch,” I lie. “I messed with the handle and it came open. I’d tell you to splurge on some WD-40, but I’m sure you oil everything with the boiled fat of your enemies around here.”
Petyr’s stare turns suspicious. He’s looking for holes in my story, but he won’t find them. I won’t be responsible for someone’s death.
I keep my chin high, my expression even. My palms sweat, but I don’t look away. Don’t give him the slightest reason to doubt what I’m saying.
After all, I did just fuck myself over here. If he replaces the lock with an electronic one, I’ll never see the sun again.
He must think the same thing I’m thinking, because he nods. “It won’t happen again,” he says, tone final. “I’ll make sure of that.”
Great. More threats. Anya owes me a shitload of KFC after this.
Petyr drags a hand through his hair. I catch the exasperation in his eyes. He’s tired of this, I realize. Tired of the sick game of cat and mouse he himself started between us.
Well, so am I.
So I seize the moment. “What do you want from me, Petyr?”
For a split second, it looks like I might get an honest answer.
But then Petyr’s face shutters. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
That’s when my patience finally snaps. “Yes, you do!” I throw my arms in the air.
“So I’ll ask again: what the hell do you want me to do?
Just accept that I’m going to spend the rest of my life staring at your horrifying wallpaper while I’m either pregnant or being forced to get pregnant again?
All so you can keep a womb on hand to carry your heir for you? ”
Petyr’s whole body tenses. If he doesn’t like getting the truth shoved in his face, though, he hides it well, because his face betrays nothing. “You can’t be trusted. You just proved it.”
“You locked me up!” I realize I’m yelling, but at this point, I don’t give a shit. “You really think that’s normal? Kidnapping your own wife? Forcing her to birth your heirs over and over? And I was supposed to, what, just go along with it?”
I’m desperate for him to come back to his senses. All that desperation is in my voice, and I know Petyr can hear it. He just won’t let it sink in.
Because he knows, deep down, I’m right.
“You say I can’t be trusted.” I step forward, trying to force his gaze to meet mine.
“But you’re the one I don’t trust, Petyr.
You gave me four walls and a locked door and told me that would have to be enough, but that’s not how it works.
I’m a human being. I’m not property. And if this is how you’re going to treat me now that you found me again—” I choke on my tears, but keep going.
“Then I’m glad I ran. In fact, I should have run faster. ”
His face darkens all of a sudden. “You have everything you need here,” he grits out, fists tight at his sides. “If you’re lacking for anything, tell Anya and I’ll—”
I let out a hoarse laugh. “This isn’t a hotel, Petyr. I didn’t check in for a spa treatment. Actually, I didn’t check in at all. And you seriously think you can pat yourself on the back and tell yourself you’re giving me all I need just because you feed me three times a day?”
“It’s more than anyone else in your position would get.”
“It’s what a pet would get,” I bite back. “And I’m not your fucking pet. I’m your wife. Because, might I add, you forced me to be.”
“You didn’t seem to mind that the last time we were together.”
My cheeks flush. But if he thinks I’ll let him throw back whatever good moments we shared in my face to shame me, he’s got another thing coming.
“I’m not ashamed of what I did,” I tell him calmly. “But I am ashamed of what you became.”
That shuts him up.
The truth is, I don’t know if I’m even making sense. This whole situation is so backwards, I can’t trust my own mind to sort it out.
More than that, I still don’t know if Petyr actually changed. Or if he was always like this and I just didn’t see it.
“I want to live.” I’m half-laughing, half-crying at this point, but if Petyr thinks I’m crazy, then good. That’s on him, too. “I want air, light, people. I want to be a person, not a pet.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I want to be free.”
Something passes across Petyr’s face. A quick, fleeting emotion I can’t name.
“You ran once.” His voice hardens. “You risked everything. I won’t let you do it again.”
“I risked everything because you told me we were nothing.” I’m drained now, not a crumb of fight left in me. “You treated me like a pawn. What else was I supposed to do?” My eyes turn pleading. “Tell me that, Petyr. Because at this point, I just don’t know what you wanted from me.”
He steps closer. Like this, we’re almost touching. “You were supposed to stay,” he growls. “You were supposed to trust me.”
“I did trust you,” I whisper. “I trusted you when you told me you’d been using me. That’s why I ran. But if by ‘trust,’ you mean ‘obey’, then sure, be mad all you want. Because that’s the one thing I didn’t do, and clearly, it was the only thing you ever wanted from me.”
Petyr’s eyes fill with something. I have no idea what it is. All I know is that, for a single moment, he looks like himself again. Like he used to be.
Then that spark flickers out, too.
“If you’re bored, I’ll have Anya bring more books.”
My arms drop. Disbelief comes rushing in. But louder than that is the disappointment that I let myself believe in him again, even for just one second. “Books? That’s your answer?”
“You said mine were boring. I’ll get you some new ones.”
“I’m lonely, Petyr.” I sound so pathetic, but fuck me, it’s the truth. I don’t have the strength to lie. “I talk to the walls more than I talk to people. More than I talk to you.”
Petyr’s nostrils flare. “Then I’ll tell Anya to talk with you,” he says. “I’ll give her topics if I have to.”
“Do you even hear yourself right now?” A small, brittle laugh slips out of me. But there’s no joy in it, not even close. “You think that’s going to make this better? Forced conversations with the keeper of the crypt?”
“It’s better than you wandering into danger.”
He sounds so cold. Has he always sounded this cold? I can’t remember.
“It’s not better,” I murmur. “It’s nothing. You’re giving me scraps and pretending they’re enough. But I’m not the stupid little girl you met anymore. I won’t wag my tail for the bare minimum.” I raise my gaze. “So just tell me what will it take for you to let me out of here, and I’ll do it.”
He falls silent and stares at me.
I know what he’s thinking. I can tell because I’m thinking it, too.
Without another word, my hands go to the buttons of my blouse. I start undoing them one by one. My fingers shake, but I force myself to go through the motions.
Suddenly, a hand lands on mine.
“Stop. That’s not what I want.”
Liar. I can read it on his face—how badly he still wants me. But I guess there’s no point if I’m already pregnant, right?
“Right,” I mutter. “Shouldn’t waste good sperm on a pregnant prisoner.”
“That’s not—”
“Then tell me!” My eyes fill with tears. “Please. I’m going crazy here. Just tell me what you want from me.”
Petyr doesn’t say anything. His hand on mine is the only gentle point of contact we’ve had since we met again.
“You’ll be here until I know you won’t betray me.”
“That means forever.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Yes, it does.”
I can already see it play out in my head: me, growing old in these four walls. Giving birth to baby after baby until I’m no longer able to. Babies I won’t get to see, won’t get to raise. Just hear them through the walls and slowly let it drive me insane.
But if anyone between the two of us has lost it, it’s Petyr. Because he can’t even see that much. He doesn’t realize the implications of what he’s saying—he’s just letting his anger guide him.
I don’t know how to break that spell. Once, when he still cared about me, I might have been able to. But now? When he thinks of me as the enemy?
Is there anything left of me that he can love?
Bump.
It’s so soft I almost miss it. A shift inside me. Warm, familiar.
The baby kicking.
I don’t even know why I do what I do. It’s intuition, pure and simple. Instinct taking over.
Without thinking, I grab Petyr’s hand and press it on my belly.