Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
TRISTAN
Dinner is served at seven sharp.
I'm stationed just outside the dining room, trying to listen to their conversation. Calder is in a generous mood tonight, playing the gracious host for an audience of one.
Keira sits across from him in a dress she didn't choose.
Every second of it grates against my skull.
Halfway through the main course, Calder sets down his wine glass.
"We're hosting a dinner party in two days. Some very important associates will be attending."
Through the gap in the door, I watch Keira's spine go rigid. "I see."
"You'll need to be very attentive. These men appreciate a certain level of hospitality."
"Of course."
"And you'll wear the red dress. The one with the low back."
She drains the rest of her wine. "Yes, Ewan."
"Good girl."
The words ooze out of him like something rotten.
Bile rises in my throat.
He doesn't say it the way I would—like a reward she earned. He says it the way you'd praise a dog for not making a mess. Dismissive, like her compliance is expected and her voice is an inconvenience he tolerates.
Calder doesn't notice how she seems to wither at this news. He's already moved on, checking his phone, mentally calculating whatever deal he's about to make on the backs of broken people. She could disappear entirely, and he wouldn't look up from his glass.
My molars grind together so hard I'm surprised they don't crack.
Two days until she puts on that dress and walks into a room full of men who will strip her with their eyes before the first course arrives. Two days until she has to smile through jokes that make her stomach turn, let their gazes crawl over her like she's something to be appraised and purchased.
Two days until I have to stand against the wall with my hands clasped behind my back and watch.
I could end this right now.
Walk in there. Wrap my hands around his throat. Squeeze until his eyes bulge and his face goes purple and he finally understands what it feels like to have no control. I could make him beg. Make him crawl. Make him apologize to her with his last rattling breath.
But there's one of me and thirty of them in this house.
So I stay where I am. Add another item to the list.
It's getting long.
I can't fucking wait to start crossing them off.
It's two in the morning, and I can't stay away.
Sleep isn't happening. Not after watching her face at dinner. The way she disappeared behind her own eyes.
That's all I see when I close mine now.
She doesn't have to go through with the dinner party. We can find another way.
Standing outside her door at this hour is ridiculously stupid, but that seems to be my thing these days. Because I'm selfish and desperate and so goddamn tired of pretending I don't want the things I swore I'd bury.
I press my ear to the wood. I hear nothing but dead air.
The loft is dark when I slip inside. It takes a minute for my vision to adjust, and in that moment, a voice in my head tells me this is insane.
I stopped listening to that voice hours ago.
Before all of this, I never would have done something so careless. But whatever discipline I had left crumbled somewhere around evening rounds. By the time patrol ended, I was already pulling on dark clothes and checking the hallway for witnesses.
The dumbest impulses always feel the most necessary.
The scarf covers the lower half of my face, but my eyes are exposed. I left the contacts out tonight.
If she wakes up, I want her to see exactly who's watching her.
Calder is asleep on his side of the bed, sprawled out like a man who's never worried about someone coming for him in the dark.
Funny how vulnerable he is right now.
He will have to worry eventually.
Just not tonight.
I take a step closer, eyes adjusting fully now.
Keira is restless, shifting beneath the sheets. She's facing away from Calder, but every few seconds she moves, her body twitching. Her breathing is uneven—enough to make me pause mid-step.
A thin sheen of sweat glistens on her skin despite the cool air pumping through the vents. Even in sleep, tension carves itself into her features. The furrow between her brows. The way her lips part and close like she's trying to say something she can't quite get out.
At first, I think she's having a nightmare.
Then I hear her moan.
Her thighs press together, release, then press together again.
Oh fuck.
I lock down completely.