Chapter Twenty- Four
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Henri
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THE DREAMS CONTINUED FOR TWO weeks.
Each night, I fell asleep holding her hand. Each dream, I found her. Entered her. Begged her to wake. Only for her to call me Master H and vanish.
I didn’t know if it was my own subconscious tormenting me or if we truly did connect on some dream plane. Either way, she didn’t wake up.
I never left that room.
I barely ate and hardly showered.
I didn’t shave or go for a walk.
If it wasn’t for Rachel putting food into my hands and reminding me to eat, I would’ve completely forgotten how.
Monday became Tuesday, Wednesday bled into Thursday, Friday turned to the weekend.
And still, Ily didn’t wake.
The doctor kept her stable. The machines kept her alive.
Ben and Stewart called at the end of the first week.
The strain between us as they asked how Ily was grew so bad I wanted to hang up.
I owed them every ounce of gratitude. Without them, Ily would be dead, and I would be Victor’s plaything.
But...I didn’t have the strength to be grateful when Ily still hung in limbo.
They filled in the awkward silence with updates on how Penelope and Abigail had flown home to America with them.
How their weddings, minus any prenup, were planned for next month.
Ily and I were invited. The conversation ended without an RSVP.
Caishen and the other jewels recovering in Q’s chateau came to check on my twin flame, some left to return to their families. But Rachel chose to stay until Ily woke up.
But she never moved.
Day by day, she remained the same, all while I fought two violent forces.
The urge to die mutated into a visceral desire to slaughter every man responsible.
It wasn’t enough that Victor was dead. Had Q gone after the other Masters?
What about the other monsters in the world who’d done this?
What about all the girls like Ily who couldn’t wake and all the guys like Peter who’d died protecting them?
The longer I sat there, utterly useless and churning with despair, the deeper I fell into revenge.
By week three, I could barely look at anyone.
I blamed them but blamed myself more.
I hated them, but hated myself most of all.
Perhaps I was the reason Ily wouldn’t wake.
She didn’t respond to my voice. She begged me to hurt her in my dreams. Maybe she was afraid of me, hiding from me, and that fucking tore out my heart and made me rage all over again.
The churning black decay inside me grew worse.
I found myself glowering at the slight tan lines on her wrists where the cuffs used to be. I imagined all the ways I should’ve murdered Victor. I filleted him alive in my daydreams. I unravelled his intestines. I hacked up his bones and left him to rot in the caves.
Not seeing his corpse gave me no closure.
He haunted my every thought.
I caught glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye.
I saw him in the shadows.
I heard him around the click of Ily’s oxygen machine and the steady woosh of her breath.
Nothing brought her back to me.
Not my pleas; not my attempts at meditation.
I willed her to speak right into my heart.
I longed to hear her tell me how I could bring her back. How I could heal her, help her...but nothing.
Just silence.
Heart-wrenching silence that slowly broke me.
* * * * *
“Eat.” Q marched into the room and practically shoved a tray into my hands.
I shifted where I sat beside Ily, eyeing up the colourful salad, honeyed ham, and garlic butter potatoes.
The familiar sensation of sickness rose up and closed my throat. “Maybe later.” Placing the tray on the side table, I took Ily’s hand again.
Was it my imagination or did she flinch away from me?
Did she not want me to touch her?
Did she hate me for letting this happen?
Bowing my head, I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Get it together.
She loves you.
You know this.
Do not fucking doubt it now.
I jolted as Q planted a hand on my healing shoulder and squeezed.
Ily might not have changed in two weeks, but my body had.
Despite not eating much, my back had knitted together just enough not to be a constant misery.
The doctor changed my bandages every few days and removed my stitches yesterday.
An awful tightness remained, and I hadn’t gotten up the guts to look in a mirror yet, but I felt halfway human instead of something peeled off the bottom of Victor’s shoe.
“You and I need to talk.” Q squeezed me again, then let me go. “Follow me. This isn’t a request.”
He stalked to the door and glowered when I didn’t move. “She’ll be fine for ten minutes. Come.”
“We can talk here.”
He glanced at Ily prone like Sleeping Beauty. “She can hear us. And what I have to say is for your ears only.” He snapped his fingers rudely. “Now, Henri. Otherwise, I’ll get Franco to carry you.”
Fresh annoyance flushed through me as I kissed Ily’s knuckles and stood. The room didn’t swim like it used to, but it still took effort to walk. “I’m not going any farther than the corridor.”
“We’re going to the roof. You need some fresh air. You haven’t been outside in weeks.”
“When she wakes, then I’ll do whatever you want. Until then, leave me be.”
He narrowed his eyes, then struck into a fast march. “Follow or be carried. Those are your only choices.”
Ah, for fuck’s sake.
Rachel appeared from her room and padded toward me in jeans and a white jumper. “I’ll sit with her.”
I exhaled. “You’ll come get me if—”
“I’ll scream until you come running.” She pressed her hand on my chest before ducking past me into Ily’s room.
“Perfect. Now come along.” Q stalked up the corridor.
I struggled to keep pace with him.
Every step leading me away from Ily felt wrong, unnatural. My entire fucking soul screeched to go back to her. To not let her out of my sight.
But I’d gotten to know my half-brother over the past couple of weeks.
He cared but...that caring had a limit. And when he wanted something...he fucking got it.
Bastard.
We didn’t speak as he led me up a winding staircase and pushed a wooden door with brass hinges that reminded me too much of the battlements in Joyero. My steps faltered. I turned to go back.
Q cleared his throat. “You take one step, and I’ll drag you up here by your hair.”
My gaze snapped to his. “I’m taller than you. Let’s see how that would go.”
“You weigh as much as an emaciated cat. Take me on, Henri, and you’ll see just how much you should’ve been eating when I told you to.”
“You’re such a pain in my ass.”
“I’m happy to stab that ass if you don’t do what I say.”
“Stab me, and I’ll wring your neck.”
“Hurt me, and my wife will hurt you back.”
I sighed and scrubbed my face. “This is stupid. Juvenile.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He chuckled. “Rather amusing actually.”
“You’re acting as if you’re enjoying this.”
His laughter faded. “Can’t say I ever wanted a brother, but...I’m starting to get used to having you around.”
I stilled. I had no idea what to say to that. “What did you want to speak to me about?”
Drawing himself up, he cleared his throat. “Out here.” Stepping onto the roof, he waited for me to join him and shut the door.
My heart pounded a little from the climb up, then skipped with surprise as I made my way to the parapet and studied the grounds beyond. The night I’d come here seeking help, it’d been dark, and I hadn’t seen much apart from the entry and driveway.
And now, I had no desire to go anywhere while Ily remained unconscious, so I hadn’t explored. But standing there as the sun set on yet another day, I couldn’t hide my appreciation.
Patchwork quilts made from daisy meadows and buttercup fields scattered all around us.
A mowed airstrip to the west with a windsock and a private plane.
A huge stable block beyond, an orchard, another few buildings, and a beautiful black-and-white tiled courtyard below with beanbags and the longest picnic table just waiting for a family barbecue.
Two dogs barked and bolted into the closest meadow, cutting through the wildflowers.
Q sighed beside me, his gaze catching the last fire of the sun.
“I used to hate this place. I had dreams of tearing it down. But after I killed him, I made it my own. I used the rooms to help instead of hurt.” Glancing at me, he shrugged.
“When you came to visit me last year, you mentioned the depth of your loneliness. I get it. I was so fucking lonely until Tess. I think that’s why I was so hard on you that night.
You reminded me far too much of myself, and I know what I was capable of back then, so... I sent you away, and... I’m sorry.”
Resting my hands on the rock wall, I didn’t reply.
There wasn’t much to say.
I appreciated his willingness to share, but all I could think about was returning to Ily.
We stood in silence for a while, my instincts itching to leave.
The sunset might paint the world in flames and hide the shadows where monsters lurked, but I knew the truth. Q knew the truth. And that truth ate at me because I didn’t want to live in a world where darkness could so easily snuff out the light.
If...when...Ily woke. I wanted her to live in a safe world where she would never be hurt again. Where thousands of other innocent people never had to endure what Peter and all the jewels had on that godforsaken island.
Funny how all thoughts of suicide had morphed to murder.
I wanted death.
I wanted to become death.
I want to make them pay.
I want them in pieces.
I want to wring their fucking necks—
“How’s she doing?” Q asked softly, studying my face and no doubt seeing fury bubbling beneath my skin.
In the dusky clouds, the wispy shape of a gemstone appeared. A perfect stone ready to glitter for some sadistic creep. I shook my head as all my festering fears pounced. All those split seconds when Victor haunted my thoughts.
Turning to him, I rolled my arm, my cast growing claustrophobic with healing. “Are you sure Victor’s dead?”
He scowled. “Very. Why?”
“What about the other guests that visited? Have you tracked them down?”