Chapter 35
Delilah
“No,” Fallon snaps.
My entire body reacts to his sharp tone, jerking away from him, but he’s looming behind me, crowding my space. My eyes dart to Reaper by the door. He remains still, not interrupting once since we’ve been down here.
Which has been hours.
“Say it again,” Fallon instructs coldly, forcing my attention back to him. “And make sure it’s correct.”
I suck in a breath and release it slowly, trying to tame my racing heart. My hands shake, and I clasp them together in my lap and close my eyes, doing my best to keep myself and my voice from trembling. Now that I know the depths that Fallon will go to, I am even more terrified of him than before.
Fallon’s palm slaps the table, jolting me from my thoughts. “Answer.”
I clear my throat, my gaze darting to Reaper again. “I don’t know where I was.”
Reaper’s slight nod warms my chest. The fact that he’s calmly standing by while Fallon yells at me, knowing what he did, tells me that these interrogations to prepare me for Rune are vital. He’d never allow Fallon to behave like this otherwise.
“Describe the terrain,” Fallon says, and I sense him back away.
Another deep breath doesn’t help unravel the vise clamping my stomach. All I want is to go back to my room and curl up in my bed. Curl up with Striker and Reaper and forget everything as they pleasure me again.
Fallon’s harsh smack to the tabletop snaps me from the fantasy. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It was cold—”
“That’s not terrain,” Fallon interjects, hand slapping down on the table again. “I said terrain.”
I lick my lips, losing the battle with my nerves. A light tremble moves through my shoulders, and I breathe in, fighting tears. “It was by the ocean. Rocky.”
“What color was the water?”
“Murky. Dark blue.”
“Any woods?”
I shake my head, picturing the marsh as I lie. “Just a marsh.”
“Where did they keep you?”
“In an old house. They kept me away from Cora, then they put us in a room together.” That is the truth, so it will be the easiest part of the story to tell Rune. Fallon told me that Clyde gave him the rundown of what she said when she returned.
“How big was the house?”
To make it believable, you have to believe it too. That’s what Fallon said the first day they brought me down here and gave me a list of things I’m to tell Rune when I go back.
“Tell me about the house, Delilah,” Fallon says, making my focus snap to him. His tone is suddenly gentle, so at odds with his entire body language. But this is what he does. Disarms with charm, then moves in to strike when he thinks there’s a crack.
I swallow, sitting up straight in my chair, and look him dead in the eye. “Big. It was run down with lots of rooms, but I didn’t see all of them.”
“What style?”
“I don’t know,” I snap. “I’m not a fucking architect.”
“Good,” Fallon praises. His hand lands on my head, and I resist the urge to move away from him.
“Always redirect Rune’s questions with anger.
Remember when they question you, you are angry.
Furious that you were taken and kept for so long with no understanding of why.
” He pulls a chair from the table. The legs scream across the floor, and the sound makes my already too strung out nerves shriek too.
He sits across from me and folds his hands on the table.
Calm. Collected. Like he didn’t aim a gun at me and admit to murdering children and abusing his sons just a day ago. “Now tell me what the men look like.”
“I don’t know,” I say, and it’s mostly true. “They wore masks. I never saw their faces.”
“What did they tell you?”
“Nothing. They barely spoke to me. Just gave me food and made me stay in a room. I was only let outside once a day.”
Fallon nods. “Cry.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need to cry,” he says. “To make it believable.”
My laugh is bitter. “My father doesn’t care about tears.”
“Yet, you cry when you are frustrated,” Fallon says. “I’ve watched you for an entire week. And I’ve seen the video footage. I know how you work.”
My cheeks flame as my gaze darts to Reaper, my mind automatically conjuring up the image of us all together.
“Don’t fret,” Fallon says. “I haven’t seen past footage of you with my sons. I’d never violate your privacy in that way.”
“Just her safety and her life,” Reaper grates, eyes shooting daggers at his father’s back.
Fallon ignores Reaper’s outburst and continues as if he didn’t speak, “When you become overwhelmed, angry, or frustrated, you cry. To make this believable, you need to be consistent.”
I’m about to cry right now, thinking about Fallon seeing me in any capacity with the men, paying close attention to all the subtle signs of just how intimate we have become.
Not just on a physical level but deeper.
Knowing Fallon pays attention to the way Reaper is with me, how he touches me, makes me glad Cora isn’t here.
Cora.
I clench my teeth and meet his eyes.
This is for Cora.
All of this is for her.
For them.
I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut, picturing her beautiful face.
Her mischievous smile. How she throws her head back and laughs with her whole body.
I picture small boys trapped in a school with a quiet evil.
Terrified and alone while the devil in a three-piece suit threatens to kill them.
My breathing grows irregular. Tears sting my eyes, and I let a few fall.
They trail down my cheek and hit my collarbone.
My heart cracks when I think about the real possibility that if I don’t convince Rune, if I fail, I won’t make it out alive and I’ll never see Cora happy and free.
I’ll never see the men free from the sick control of the man before me.
I open my eyes. Fallon’s lip quirks into a devilish grin.
“Very good,” he says gently. “I can see you finally understand.”
***
I step out of the shower, snatching a towel from the rack, and dry off. My clothes hang on the metal rod along with a fresh towel, and the thought passes through my head.
Who does the laundry?
I imagine Reaper gathering dirty uniforms, and my dresses, and stuffing them in a washing machine, along with all their masks. A chuckle slips out, echoing in the bathroom, and I slump down to the floor, tears pricking my eyes.
I’m fucking losing my mind in this loneliness.
The weeks prior didn’t feel as desolate as this past week. Even stuck in this room alone for that first week after they took us, the isolation didn’t stick to me quite like it does now. I was too scared. Too unaware. Now I know too much, and I’m left to sit with all this knowledge, by myself.
Sit with all these expectations.
What if I can’t do it? What if the moment I’m faced with killing Rune, I can’t pull the trigger?
A loud knock on the bathroom door rips a scream from my throat.
“You have ten minutes,” a deep voice says. 33? I can’t remember. Every day, the two guards who escort me around the mansion change, and I don’t have enough energy to care to store away who is who.
“Chow time,” another says, and I recognize the voice. 48.
“I already ate,” I snap back.
“Looks like you’re eating again.”
“Hold on.” With a sigh, I stand and dress. It isn’t until I’m snapping my bra that I realize I forgot to grab underwear. I cast a glance at my sweaty leggings and undergarments and decide I’m better off without any, then pull on my socks and boots, tucking my knife away.
Another pound on the door makes my shoulders bunch as I quickly run a brush through my wet hair. When I open the door, the two soldiers step back, their eyes moving over me.
I don’t like these soldiers. Any of them, really. They look too much. Even 48, who doesn’t have a menacing air about him, drags his eyes over me a tad too often.
My belly dips. Though I know they can’t see I’m not wearing panties under my long dress, I still feel exposed and vulnerable.
“Come on,” 48 says, gesturing for me to follow his fellow soldier.
It’s times like this that I feel like a prisoner. Every time they escort me, command me to follow them, I’m reminded I have no control over my life.
Fallon does.