Chapter 20
THREE DAYS LATER…
My hands shake as I step back from the monitor in my bedroom, my eyes no longer willing to humor me. My sister, Raven flanks my side while Thorne sits in the chair—its spine groaning each time he shifts.
I tell myself I’m just tired. Frustrated. Cranky. The sexists would say I have PMS. Father would say we’re finally getting on the same page.
“I don’t see him anywhere,” Thorne says, the genius that he is. He searches every camera. Every. Single. Camera. Only to come up empty again and again until I feel as though I’m losing my mind while he looks like this is some sort of simple, explainable mistake.
“That’s because he isn’t here, my love.”
Thorne turns to me, the cleft in his chin deepening as he ponders, lips pursed, eyes narrowed. “You mean he’s…”
“Gone,” Raven mercifully finishes for me. If I have to explain it aloud, I’ll scream.
Thorne’s eyes widen. “You think he left for good?”
No one answers. Thorne may have a brain the size of a walnut, but he’s smart enough not to repeat the question.
The answer is I don’t know. I’m terrified of the possibility, my hands quaking until I curl them into fists.
Thorne shakes his head. “I thought you said he’d wait for the ceremony.”
He sounds so puzzled, you’d think he believes I can read minds. Or that I got a peek at Mr. Hansley’s notebook where he chronicaled his carefully made plans to steal from my family, my home.
The money has already been counted. If he’s gone for good, he hasn’t taken a dime, which seems too unlikely to be the case.
“He will.” I nod slowly, answering the question for myself as well as for Thorne.
“He’ll use it as a distraction… He isn’t gone for good, but he’s gone, and we need to figure out how the hell he’s escaping; otherwise all of this will be for nothing!
” My voice raises until I’m yelling, and when I’m finished, the echo of my distress permeates the room.
Neither Thorne nor my sister respond. We stand in uncomfortable silence while we all pretend I’m not losing it.
“I need a walk,” I mumble before heading for the door.
“Your Grace.” The disapproval is thick in Raven’s tone, but she says no more.
She follows me out of the Keep, cool wind whipping my face. I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and savor it. At my feet is a sharp meow, delicate black fur rubbing against my shins. Raven tisks, scoops the cat up, points her apologetic gaze at the hairs clinging to my clothed shins.
I bend and carefully pluck them off.
“I thought I told you to keep her in your room.”
“She’s been restless,” Raven says, head ducked as she opens the door of the Keep and shuts the crying feline inside.
I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. Start down the steps toward the concrete path.
Pigeon-toed feet follow, but Raven doesn’t speak. It makes me feel the tiniest bit better knowing there’s something still in my control, even if it’s only my sister’s mouth.
We walk a half mile before I find the calmness to speak. I can’t help but notice how much weaker my legs feel, how much life my skin has lost, sagging on my face like it’s as tired as I am.
“We need to know who’s been helping him.”
Raven pulls up beside me and meets my stride. “I know… I’ve been trying.”
“Not hard enough.”
Silence slices between us while the world around feels more chaotic than usual. A group has gathered in a circle on the grass while a man with a guitar plays and sings for the little girls holding hands and dancing in a circle. I wait to feel joy, but instead, feel nothing.
“You’re right,” my sister says, because she’s weak. They’re all weak.
Or I’m just in the worst of moods.
One of the little girls sees me and turns away sharply. I recognize her as one of Mr. Hansley’s little actresses, putting on a show for his benefit. He wanted to show that there’s joy here when he doesn’t even believe it himself.
I must be angry with the girl the same way I am the rest of the world because my eyes pinch with a glare.
I stop and face Raven. “Listen to me,” I hiss, as angry with myself as I am with my sister.
Or maybe I’m not angry at all. Maybe I’m just scared.
“We are losing three fourths of our offspring to deformities and gender misalignment. The Shadow Sanctum will not survive even one more generation if we do not secure breeders, and I have tried and failed to condition them myself. I’m not going to slit a hundred more experimental captives’ throats in an effort to get the process right.
Sawyer Hansley is the plan; there is no backup.
If he is gone for good, our solution is gone for good. ”
“Okay… But is he really the answer? Or is it his methods?” She sounds skeptical, but her face looks concerned. For me.
She thinks I’m obsessed. Father thinks I’m obsessed. Thorne thinks I’m obsessed.
“I just mean…” She twirls her hand while trying to backpedal. “We’ve learned the way he does things. We’ve gotten the data you wanted. Is there any reason we need to keep him permanently?”
I scoff, swatting hair out of my face. “Do you honestly believe we know everything? Sawyer isn’t even trying. He’s doing just enough to keep us complacent so he can focus on robbing the Sanctum. He—”
“Maybe we should let him.”
My face must harden because Raven drops her head, her throat contracting as she swallows.
“Forgive me, Your Grace…”
I suck in and let my hands uncurl on an exhale. “What do you mean we should let him?”
She rights herself, cupping her hands in front of her as she raises her chin.
“I don’t know how to solve your Sawyer problem.
If you think we should keep him, then I have no choice but to support you…
But if we want to figure out how he’s getting out and identify the traitor, then we need to follow him, and thus far he’s been too good at evading us. ”
My head tilts while I wait for her to go on.
“As soon as he sees what’s inside the mines, he’ll run for the exit. For once, we know where he’ll be, and if we manufacture a ceremony, we know when he’ll be there.”
My eyes draw left, brow furrowing as I run over the idea.
We set a trap…
Risky, given what we know of Sawyer. As soon as he sees what’s inside the mines, he’ll be desperate for escape—as Raven suggests—but it’s his loyalty that we require, not his fear. It would be hard, maybe even impossible to win his true alliance after that, not just his illusion of helpfulness.
But, of course, we may never win that anyway. We may need to settle for obedience.
And he’s said it himself.
It takes pain to lure the stubborn into complacency.
Pain, I can do. But how much? Would I even know how to restrain myself? Would I even recognize the moment I should?
Risky. Very risky.
But… I’m all out of ideas, and Raven has a point.
If you want to find the weak spots in a hen house, you don’t question the hens. You watch the fox.
“Unless you want to wait until the purification…” Raven says. I can hear the concern in her voice. Concern for my sanity.
They all think I’m crazy for letting this go on so long. They don’t get what I’m trying to accomplish. They don’t understand the importance of my mission.
If it were up to them, Sawyer’s freedom would’ve been stripped the moment he went looking for our fortune, proving we couldn’t trust him—as if there was any question.
From their point of view, we have all the facts.
We even have tapes showing us what to replicate.
We have pages and pages of notes detailing every last strategic move Sawyer provided.
To them, all this makes up a how-to guide. To me, it’s merely a blurry pamphlet.
I studied him for months before he came here.
I learned everything I could about his victims. I highlighted every word they said about him, every detail of his island.
I’ve seen what he can do here, and though his conditioning tactics are useful, they would never be enough to acclimate a woman to our lifestyle.
It isn’t enough for her to be a whore, she has to want it—our people couldn’t tolerate her presence otherwise.
She must be in love with us the way Sawyer’s victims fell in love with him. Only he can get us there.
I consider repeating all of this to Raven, of stressing the importance yet again, but I would be wasting my breath.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m sick of waiting… Arrange it for tomorrow.”
My stomach sinks with what I tell myself is nerves. I promise myself I won’t overthink this decision, but I know for the next twenty-four hours I’ll be in a panic to uncover as much as I can.
After tomorrow, it’ll be too late. Sawyer’s guard will go up for good.
But it’s done now. It’s finished.
It’s time for this experiment to end.