Chapter Eleven #2
But what will he do to me if it doesn’t work?
I hesitate, fear freezing my limbs until I force them to move.
If I start thinking like that, I’ll be here forever.
The mysterious woman didn’t seem like she was going to be much help, and I can’t rely on a Morse code message…
I need to take every chance, however tiny, to escape.
I throw off the blanket and crouch at the door in a runner's stance. Saldar looks strong, but I’m fast. If it comes to a chase, maybe I could outrun him.
It’s cold, but sweat breaks out on my body as I wait for the door to click.
I strain my ears for sound. I’ve stopped noticing the trickle of the stream, but now it’s all I can hear.
Is he even coming? Maybe the woman was just bullshitting me. Maybe she’s Saldar, speaking through a different voice changer. Maybe—
The door clicks. I tense. It swings open, a gap appears, and I sprint forward, ducking under Saldar’s arm. He lets out a distorted grunt of surprise, but I’m gone, flying down the corridor. The walls mimic the cell, stone-covered, and I just have time to register it before I skid to a halt.
Another door.
I tug frantically at the handle, but it doesn’t open. My palms sweat, and I tense, waiting for Saldar to drag me back, but nothing happens. I search all around the door, hope fading away, until I risk a glance over my shoulder.
He stands, arms relaxed at his sides, watching me. There’s no urgency. No hint he might be anxious I’ll escape. Just his inhuman face aimed in my direction.
“I’m glad we got that out of the way early. It’s an airlock, Juliet. You can’t get out. I wanted you to discover that, so I’m not going to punish you this time. That will change if you’re not back in your cell by the count of ten.”
Then the fucker turns, cloak swishing around him, and walks back into my cell, leaving me alone in the corridor.
I turn back to the door, shoving my fingers into the crack and tugging on it as his voice echoes down the corridor.
“One. Two. Three.”
I don’t want to give up. I wrench the handle, then press my face to the door. “Help! Anyone, please, help. I’m trapped in here.”
“Four. Five.”
I yank harder. “Someone, please help! I’m—”
“Six. Seven.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My heart drops as I stare at the closed door. It looks heavy and well sealed.
Let’s be honest. He won’t go to all this trouble and leave a door you can be heard through.
Fuck. Fuck.
“Eight.”
I spin, racing back down the corridor and into my cell just as he finishes, “Nine.”
He falls silent as I stagger to a stop, then glides around me and closes the cell door. It clicks, and the sound echoes deep in my bones. There’s no escape. I can’t slip past him.
“On your knees.”
No emotion. I thought he’d show some anger at my escape attempt, but he doesn’t give a shit.
He’s brushed it off as if I’m a toddler throwing a toy, and there’s something final about it.
He’s not concerned; he has no reason to be.
There’s nothing I can do. And the smart thing is to not antagonize him.
I settle onto my knees, hands clasped in front of me. Christ, he’s looming over me like a pissed-off God. It’s so intimidating, looking up at him, that my hands start to shake.
He studies me for a long time, then asks, “Do you have something to tell me?”
Does he want an apology for my escape attempt? Well, it won’t kill me, I suppose. I clear my throat and aim for a sweet tone. “Sorry for trying to escape, Master.”
The following silence is long and uncomfortable. Those pinprick, red eyes burn into my skull. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Juliet.”
It’s not, then what…
I don’t think he’ll be happy you did that.
Is that what he’s talking about? I can’t think of anything else it might be. I broke his stupid rule, but does he know or just suspect? No reason to drop myself into the volcano if I don’t need to. I channel pure innocence. “No, Master. What do you mean?”
He doesn’t reply, and the silence grows more unbearable by the second. My skin tingles.
He’s the master. I’m the slave. He’ll punish me however he likes.
A moment ago, I was terrified. Now, I’m still terrified, but I’m squirming, too. What will he do to me? Inquiring minds need to know.
Saldar bends down, and I’m pulled into his inhuman, glowing eyes.
It should be creepy as hell. Is it weird that I’m starting to get used to it?
Even though I know it’s fake, it’s really, really hard to remember that when he’s glowering down at me.
He feels less like a psycho in a mask and more like the demon prince I spent so many years creating.
His hand has colorful Japanese ink on the back of it—a grinning demon, which stretches down his fingers.
Appropriate. He tucks a strand of my tangly hair behind my ear.
The soft gesture tugs at me, touching a memory.
Before I can chase it down, he whips his hand behind my head and grips my hair in an iron fist.
The pain squashes my thoughts as he lowers his face to mine. “You took something that wasn’t yours to take. You won’t do it again.”