Chapter Nineteen
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Ily
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VICTOR ARRIVED FOUR DAYS LATER.
The friends he’d permitted to return flew in before him—as if they couldn’t tolerate being away for so long. They behaved themselves and didn’t cause any issues. They didn’t even play with any jewels, preferring to decompress by the pools and drink long into the night.
I managed to meet Peter, Faiza, Mollie, and Rachel one more time before we all decided it would be too risky with a full house once again.
We had our tasks. We had our timeframe.
We would continue gathering supplies, making presents, and hiding them around the castle where no one would find them until it was too late.
Faiza had recruited three other cleaners who helped smuggle Mollie’s gifts under loads of laundry and trolleys full of fresh sheets and towels.
They had instructions to ensure every Master’s room had at least one explosive hidden inside.
Everything seemed to be going as smoothly as it could.
Apart from Henri.
I touched my lips where I sat by our bedroom window, looking down at the gardens below.
That nightmare a few nights ago had been the worst one yet. He’d often woken me thrashing and tossing, but this was the first time he’d screamed.
His voice had cracked.
His hands had grabbed at shadows.
Pure despair poured from him, and I couldn’t let him stay in such misery.
I’d woken him.
He’d kissed me.
And then he’d bolted off and hadn’t come back.
Goosebumps erupted, recalling the way he’d ripped up the Diamond Kiss chit. The gesture had sent my heart flying. The clench of his jaw lit me up with hope.
I’d wanted to ask him there and then.
To finally test to see if he would be on our side, but...he’d avoided me ever since.
He never seemed to sleep.
He’d lost more weight.
His grey eyes always black with nightmares.
Each time I reached out to him, he shrank away as if my touch physically hurt him. Each time I tried to speak, he shut down.
The helplessness as he faded before my eyes drove me mad.
If I didn’t manage to break through to him soon...
My eyes strayed to the switchblade he’d smuggled here in the lining of his jacket.
It sat smugly on his bedside table, the blade tucked away, the handle metallic and smooth.
He’d returned with it yesterday.
At some point, he’d gone up to Victor’s dead zoo where he’d drawn my blood and taken me on the cross. He’d reclaimed that sharp little knife...for what?
For protection from the Masters roaming the halls again?
To slay the monsters in his mind when he woke up screaming in the dark?
Or for something else?
He needs to talk to me.
He’d bottled up far too many things.
Every feeling had noosed around his throat until he hung on that rope, slowly choking.
But how could I get him to talk in a place where talking was so treacherous?
It wasn’t a simple matter of sitting down and clearing the air between us.
I’d often gotten so frustrated at couples who never talked through their problems. So many issues could be solved with a frank and accepting conversation.
But here, under the constant watch of cameras?
Everything I needed to say was treasonous and everything he had to say was probably far too personal for an audience.
Didn’t stop the words lingering on the tip of my tongue.
Assurances that I didn’t hate him, that I cared, that I trusted him despite the mess between us—
The door crashed open.
As if I’d summoned him by thinking about him, Henri appeared.
Dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt, he looked like a man who’d already been hung from the gallows, and now only his ghost haunted me.
“He’s here,” he muttered.
My ears rang, so used to his silence by day and screams by night.
It took a while for those two words to compute. “He’s here?”
“He’s summoned all of us. We’re to gather in the ballroom.”
“Victor.” I shuddered and crossed my arms.
“Victor.” He nodded.
Marching into the bathroom, he closed the door.
Victor was back.
Yippee.
* * * * *
Sunshine streamed through the ballroom’s stained-glass windows, determined to give no places for shadows and evil to hide, forcing them out into the open.
Unlike all the other times Henri had fed me in here—all the nights I’d kneeled at his feet and done my best to stay quiet while jewels acted out pornos and Masters stuffed their faces, there were no scents of dinner or slaves dressed up for a show.
The stage was empty.
The aura of the room tense with expectation.
My ears pricked as two Masters a table away shot us a look. Their whispers couldn’t be deciphered, but the way they gawked at Henri hinted at what they spoke about.
They still thought he was either a cop or a killer.
Weeks had passed, and still, their suspicions fogged the room.
Drinks were served, and Henri sat fisting his beer glass, his eyes skimming the crowd of men, some with a jewel at their feet and others sitting together, quietly chatting. A few awful rounds of laughter. A quick squeak from a slave getting reprimanded.
I flinched as I caught the jewel’s eye. Corinne. Bowing her head, she used her hair to curtain her face.
Sucking in a breath, I scanned the room.
Twenty-two guests.
I’d hoped Victor would see fit to revoke more memberships than he had. Seemed the month-long abstinence from this place ensured an eager crowd.
I counted the guards next.
Twelve ringed the doorways dotted around the ballroom.
Mollie was right.
We were severely outnumbered. Hopefully in four months, when we’d done all we could and Christmas rolled around, there’d be half this number of patrons. A quarter. We’d need all our strength to fight the guards without fearing the Masters and their electricity remotes.
My heart rabbited as I stroked my collar.
I hadn’t had the opportunity to test to see if it was still inactive. Even if it was...it didn’t suddenly open doors that’d once been closed. I couldn’t waltz over the drawbridge and hail a taxi. I couldn’t send telepathic messages to my brother and give him our address.
Telepathic.
I stiffened as I recalled a few more twin flame notes that Krish and I had researched: The intensity between you and your twin flame can sometimes cause phenomena like telepathy and psychic connections.
An intense connection of belonging and yearning.
An inner pull that can’t be ignored or stopped.
Your bond can be so profound, you begin to feel the other’s pain, desire, and stress.
Was that why I could sense Henri’s unravelling?
Were we that connected even when we both struggled against it?
Sighing heavily, I dropped my fingers from my collar.
My eyes snapped to Peter across the ballroom.
My heart instantly squeezed.
He kneeled like the rest of us next to a Master with a bushy brown beard. The man’s large belly sat on his thighs as he chuckled at something another Master said.
Peter gave me half a smile as our eyes met. The shadow of a bruise on his cheekbone made my hands ball with fury.
He wasn’t even out of bandages yet, and someone had already struck him.
My heart didn’t just ache. It tore.
Fucking bastards.
All of them.
They’ll die.
We’ll make sure of—
A loud bang and a shrill scream sounded beyond the double doors to the ballroom, capturing everyone’s attention. Masters quietened. Jewels flinched.
Peter winced and shook his head.
He mouthed something I didn’t catch, then sighed and looked away.
“Good afternoon, my dear friends!” Victor suddenly appeared, arms aloft like a returning conqueror, black suit impeccable, his stride eating up the dance floor with eager, powerful strides. “I can’t tell you how good it is to be home.”
A murmur of welcomes.
A few men stood to shake his hand.
Henri stiffened, his knee touching my shoulder. He smiled when Victor nodded in his direction, but he didn’t wave or clap like some of the others. Throwing his beer down his throat, he slammed his glass onto the table and snapped his fingers for another.
A server placed another ice-dewy glass before him just as Victor finished his parade to the podium and leapt up the steps.
Trim and toned, he didn’t look his age, despite the grey tinsel in his hair. His navy eyes glinted and his skin glowed as if he’d just stepped off a plane after the best holiday of his life.
Sick bastard.
Smirking at the Masters and jewels scattered around different tables, he bowed with a flourish. “Welcome back, everyone. Welcome home.”
“Thanks for the invite, Vic!” A few Masters toasted him.
“Appreciate the second chance.” Another tipped his chin.
“Yes, yes, you’re quite welcome.” Victor straightened and clasped his hands in front of him. “I’m sure you’ve all taken my instructions to heart, and we will have no more mishaps, yes?”
“Definitely.” Two Masters nodded.
“We’ll play within the guidelines from now on, never fear.” Another laughed.
“Good, I’m glad.” Victor bounced on the balls of his feet, brimming with energy. “In that case...I have gifts for you. But first...how has everyone been?”
“Better now we’re all back, Vic!” someone said.
“Come on, show us the new stock, mate!” Another snickered. “I caught a glimpse of them when you arrived, and a couple looked right up my alley!”
Oh God.
My skin pebbled with frost and fire.
How many?
How many had been trafficked into this hellhole this time?
How many more do we need to save?
Another bang in the foyer followed by a pitiful cry.
Sickness crawled up my throat.
Henri stiffened.
Peter rolled his shoulders across the room, knowing better than I did what was coming.
I’m no longer the new girl...
“So impatient.” Victor laughed. “But...seeing as you’re all so keen to see what I’ve brought you, fine. We can catch up over dinner later.” Clicking his fingers, he raised his voice. “Bring them in.”
The floor beneath my knees turned into an arctic tundra as two guards shepherded nine new faces into the ballroom.
Nine?
The room swam.
God, nine?
Peter sucked in a breath, his stare snagging mine with matching horror.
The past month of preparing for a jail break seemed utterly pointless as seven girls and two boys were prodded at gunpoint toward the stage.