Chapter 6

I woke to the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. The smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils. I was in a hospital bed.

A maid I recognized from the mansion was sitting by my side.

"Mrs. Dillon, you're awake," she said, her voice full of relief. "Mr. Dillon was so worried. He's the one who brought you here. He saved you."

Saved me? The words made no sense. He had traded me. He had thrown me to the wolves.

I was trying to process this when Fletcher himself walked in. His face was a cold, hard mask.

"So, you're alive," he said, his voice flat. "That's good. It means my toy isn't broken beyond repair." He looked at me, a cruel smirk on his lips. "It seems my training isn't finished yet. You still have so much to learn."

He didn't save me because he cared. He saved me so he could continue to torment me. He couldn't stand the thought of me finding freedom, even in death.

He sent the maid away, leaving us alone in the sterile, quiet room.

He walked to the bed and leaned over me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. His eyes were dark, intense.

"Did you really think you could get away?" he whispered. "Did you think death was an escape?"

I met his gaze, my own eyes burning with a cold fire I didn't know I possessed. "Will you ever let me go?"

A humorless laugh escaped his lips. "Never," he hissed. "You belong to me, Kiara. In life and in death. There is no escape for you."

The days that followed were a blur of pain and quiet suffering. Fletcher resumed his nightly ritual, holding me captive in his arms as he slept, my body rigid against his.

Aislinn, of course, came to visit. She brought flowers, her face a perfect picture of concern.

"Oh, Kiara, you poor thing," she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "But you really must be more careful. First my champagne, now my diamond necklace has gone missing. Fletcher is so upset."

I pulled my hand away from her touch. "I didn't take your necklace, Aislinn."

Her eyes welled up with tears. "How can you say that? I trusted you!" she sobbed, just as Fletcher walked in.

"She's accusing me again, Fletcher!" Aislinn cried, running to him. "She must have stolen my necklace to pay for her escape!"

Fletcher's jaw tightened. He looked at me, his eyes full of accusation. "Did you steal it?"

"No," I said, my voice weary. I was tired of these games.

"Search her room," he commanded his guards.

Of course, they found the necklace. It was tucked away in my art supplies, a place I hadn't touched in weeks. Aislinn had planted it.

"I see your defiance hasn't been cured," Fletcher said, his voice dangerously low. He ordered his men to give me "one hundred lashes" as punishment.

They forced me to my knees on the cold marble floor of the foyer. The whip cut through the air, a vicious, whistling sound. The first blow landed across my back, a line of fire that stole my breath.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. I would not give them the satisfaction.

Fletcher watched, his face impassive. After ten lashes, he held up a hand. The guard stopped.

"Do you admit your mistake?" Fletcher asked.

I looked up at him, a defiant, bloody smile on my face. "My only mistake," I spat, "was ever thinking either of you had a shred of humanity."

His face contorted with rage. "Continue," he ordered the guard.

The whip fell again. And again. I clenched my jaw, focusing on the thought of Evan. The thought of freedom. Each lash was just another step closer to my escape.

When it was over, Aislinn helped me up, her touch like poison. "You should have just kept your mouth shut," she whispered, her voice a triumphant hiss. "Now look at you."

I laughed, a raw, broken sound. "You're right." I was a wreck. But I was still alive. And soon, I would be dead to them all.

I looked forward to my own death. It was the only release I could hope for.