However, I swear I’ve met a Claire before… but my brain is too muddled to recall where and what she looked like. Or her significance to me or Zade.
He grabs me by the shoulders, his face severe. “Be very careful with that mouth of yours, princesa. Matter of fact, keep it shut.”
I tighten my lips and nod my head. Lately, I’ve been too tired—too weak—to fight back. I walked into this house with my fire lit, and within two months, the proverbial fingers have pinched the flame, leaving only a trail of smoke behind.
All I need is a spark, and maybe… maybe it can be reignited.
My stomach twists with anxiety as I follow Rio down the hallway. A dull ache throbs between my thighs, reminding me with every step of what I’m desperately trying to forget. Something Xavier aims explicitly for. It’s also a reminder that Zade may not want me anymore—something I’ve come to terms with already. I never thought I’d want to lose his obsession… but how could I not? I’m filthy now.
Rio walks ahead of me without a glance, tightening the knot forming in my stomach. There’s an ice-cold fortress shrouded around him, as solid as the tension in his shoulders. It feels as if he’s distancing himself from me because I’m about to be sent off to war, and he’s never going to see me again.
Some days, I still hate him for what he’s done to me, but I won’t lie to myself and say that we haven’t built a bond, either. He’s been an emotional crutch for me these last two months, and I’ve begun to figure him out by now. If he’s acting this way, it’s for a reason.
And that makes me really fucking nervous.
I pad down the stairs, quiet voices rising from the living room. Rocco stands in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water and staring at me with his beady little eyes.
I keep my head down, watching my bare feet travel across the dirty floor. I just cleaned it two days ago, but Rocco and his friends act like there’s glass on the floor and insist on wearing their muddy boots around the house.
My eyes focus on a perfect set of footprints that trail into the living room, leading right to two sets of heels. The new incomer has mud caked on her shoes, too. How fucking rude.
A throat softly clears, and I finally lift my stare. Immediately, I regret it. The shock of who I’m looking at nearly knocks me right onto the dirty footprints.
Claire… I’ve definitely met her before. She’s Mark’s wife. The senator who had tried to abduct me before, and the one Zade viciously murdered the night of Satan’s Affair.
I remember meeting her the night Mark invited us to a charity event at his house. She was frail, subdued, and seemed so nice.
Why did she put a target on my head? Out of revenge for her husband? That has to be it. Zade murdered Mark, so now she’s taking her anger out on him by getting me kidnapped and sold.
But Jesus, what’s there to be mad about? The man obviously abused her.
“Hello, Adeline,” Claire greets, smiling at me behind her red lipstick. She looks significantly different than the first time I met her. Not because of her appearance—she still has bright red hair curled perfectly around her face and a beautiful, albeit aging, appearance.
It’s because she looks… happy. Like she’s thriving. She doesn’t look upset or distraught over the death of her husband.
I’m muddled with surprise and confusion, so it takes me a moment to say, “Hi, Claire.”
She clasps her black-gloved hands together and takes a step towards me.
“I know you’re probably very confused, my dear,” she starts. “And I’m terribly sorry you were brought into the middle of all this.” She waves a hand, indicating ‘all this’ as the house I’m currently being held captive in.
Let’s not pretend that I wouldn’t have been taken anyway.
But I keep quiet, not sure how exactly I’m supposed to respond to that.
Wave a hand and say aw, shucks, it’s all right. I’m having the time of my life.
“It’s very unfortunate you got involved with someone such as Z. He came in and wrecked your life like a bull in a china shop, didn’t he?”
Yes. Yes, he did.
“I suppose so,” I admit.
“He’s caused a lot of trouble for me as of late. Most recently, gratuitously murdering several important buyers at an auction house, then stealing the girls.”
My heart drops into my stomach, sending the butterflies inside scattering. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I force them down. Hearing about Zade, and the havoc he’s wreaking is… God, it’s almost comforting. In a way, the people in my life before I was taken have begun to feel like ghosts rather than real, living people. Zade, Daya, my mom… none of them feel absolute anymore.