Chapter 42

Mirabelle

“Ready me for what?” Penelope asks. Gone is the confidence she displayed to my master. Instead, she gazes at me wild-eyed and worried. She should be worried.

“For the master,” I reply casually. Why should I tell her anything more? She deserves what is coming. They all do.

“Why are you doing this?” she whimpers. I look at her and see red. How can she not know?

This stupid girl who has every man eating from the palm of her hand looks at me like a hurt puppy.

One I want to kick.

Hard.

Until there is nothing left of her.

“Revenge.” I half expect her to ask what for, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t say anything at all. “He killed my husband.”

She looks at me with her crystal-blue eyes and still says nothing. I want to lash out and hit her for acting so cold toward my reasoning. Her lack of response proves how cold her heart truly is.

Then again, she doesn’t know what love and true devotion are. I doubt she’s ever heard the words directed toward her, and she never will. As long as I have a say in it.

Tony hasn’t told her about his feelings for her, and I know this because I hacked into their security system weeks ago, and I’ve been watching their every moment. Despite the way he looks at her when she isn’t paying attention, she has no idea the depths of his love for her. It’s satisfying to know she’ll die never knowing it either, and he’ll die never being able to say the words to her.

Just as it should be.

“Did you know he was my stepfather?” Of all the things she can talk about, she wants to know about him. The man I hate and love at the same time. The man I thought I’d escaped, but it turns out all I did was trade one master in for another.

Brock wasn’t cruel like Charles, though. Brock loved me even though he held the key to my freedom. He promised to one day to set me free. I wanted to believe him. Even though he was better than Charles, men don’t give away their favorite toys easily. He died in my arms, choking on his own blood, never saying the words I longed to hear.

He promised to protect me with his last breath, but he didn’t. All his last breath did was transfer ownership back to the first and only man who’s truly ever owned me. Charles.

How he escaped the compound that day, I’ve never been able to figure out. When Brock and I parted ways with Armando and Charles, they were headed to the portion of the compound destroyed in the second blast. They called it the cattle room. It’s where they kept the girls. Armando wanted to show the lot off, since he was proud of what his man Tony accomplished.

I should’ve listened to my gut about Tony, especially the morning he made a play for the code to Brock’s safe. But I was intoxicated by him and his promises.

He was wrong about me, though. It wasn’t power I wanted so much as the power to control my own life. Without Armando and Charles in charge of the operation, it would be a possibility.

Had I known who Tony really was, Brock would be alive, and it would be Tony buried six feet under in some unmarked grave.

But that’s not what happened.

Instead, I’m standing in front of one of the biggest surprises of my life. Fate has a funny way of playing out, and after all the heartache I’ve suffered at Tony’s hands, I will finally have my revenge. Not just on Tony, but also revenge against the man I’ve spent most of my life hating.

The only thing sweeter would be to kill her in front of both of them.

I know it would mean the end of my own life the second after it is done, but it would be worth it. To watch the spark in their eyes die as she struggles to take in a breath, only to fill her lungs with blood.

Fuck, death would be worth it to see it happen. I’d happily relive the moment over and over while burning in hell for my sins.

I don’t understand why, but Charles wants this girl for himself. He hasn’t wanted anyone this way since the day he laid eyes on me. Even after he gave me to Brock for “safe keeping,” he never took another girl. He played with them, I’m sure, but none held the same standing in his life like I did.

But this girl, she rivals even his need for me.

And it hurts because despite all the fucked-up shit, I’ve always been attuned to him. Because the truth of it all is, I was never safe with Brock. Not even in my wildest dreams, as much as I wanted to believe I was. It would only take one command to ruin everything. One command from him, and I would find myself seated at his feet on my knees, waiting like a lost puppy, desperate for her master’s attention.

As much as I hated the man, I loved him a hundred times more. As much as I wanted him dead, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. It never got easier as time went on. The bond was always this strong no matter what I did.

He made me what I am.

He gave me life.

And only he can take it away.

“I didn’t,” I tell her and step closer to the glass. I hate that there is this barrier keeping her protected from me. But I’m sure Charles knew once I found out who she really is, she wouldn’t be safe from me. And he was right to assume it. I want to claw her eyes out and wear them as trophy earrings. “If I had, you wouldn’t have made it this far.”

“You can still do the right thing, Mirabelle. You can let me go.” It’s right now that I see it, the spark of hope flickering inside of her. She thinks because we’ve both been his victim, we can bond over it and I will help her escape. The idea is hilarious, and I can’t help the laughter that pours out of me.

“No, sweetie,” I tell her breathlessly, narrowing my eyes on her. “You wouldn’t have made it this far because I would have killed you first.”

She steps back, and for the first time since I walked into the room, I see fear. The hope fades, and her instinct to survive kicks up a notch. She’s finally understanding that I am a danger to her.

“Then why don’t you kill me now?”

“I will, eventually.” I run my finger along the glass as I pace along it, like a cat stalking its prey. She tilts her head and studies me.

“You can’t get in here, can you?”

The question does something to me on the inside, and I stop and turn to face her. She walks forward and reaches up to touch the glass between us. She’s afraid of me still, but she’s also grateful to be behind the glass. I slam my hands against it, wanting to scare her, and she stumbles back, wild-eyed, once again fearful.

But the glass is shatterproof, and the only way into the room lies with Charles.