Cyrus was in a good mood, which freaked me out even more than him gently washing me in the shower. Not that he’d never done that before, but he enjoyed playing the doting master when I was fragile, not when I was feeling strong enough to mouth off to him.

Aggravating him wasn’t the smartest thing to do, and yet…I didn’t care. I was torn between wanting to make this fucked up existence I was trapped in bearable and knowing no matter what I did, I would bleed before long.

I hated the creature I’d become. She didn’t deserve to live as much as Kimmy had. Kimmy, who’d come so close to getting a second chance. I’d dreamed up a whole lifetime for her in moments, like she would live my perfect fantasy. Starting a family, bitching about bills, fighting with her husband about all the little things I’d never had the opportunity to be angry about.

How fucking sad was it that I wished I’d had a home with Daederich where I could yell at him about leaving his shit lying around, or forgetting to buy milk. I wanted a crying baby to keep me up all night, a dog to pee on my floor, neighbors’ kids throwing a ball through my living room window.

All right, maybe my fantasies needed some work, but I wanted it all. I’d wanted it for her because I knew it would never be mine.

But at least she’d died quickly. With how annoyed Cyrus had been about me wanting her to live, he would have given me details if she’d suffered. She hadn’t given him that satisfaction.

He came up behind me as I used my fingers to comb my hair into a tight ponytail, dropping a pair of leather pants, a black T-shirt, and a leather jacket on the end of the bed. “Get dressed.”

I glanced over at him, then stroked the leather, fighting not to smile as I picked up the plain black T-shirt. These clothes were exactly what I’d have worn when I was free. No fancy silk, no embellishments. I didn’t want to face Rosali again, not so soon after she’d managed to make me scream, but at least I’d be doing it looking like myself.

The cotton of the T-shirt was soft, snug, but not enough to hamper my movements. The leather fit me like a second skin. I could fight in this. I could kill.

“I’d rather you not. That leather is custom made.” Cyrus chuckled when I stared at him. “And have you any idea how much it costs to clean a place like this?”

“You’ve got issues, you know that?”

“Perhaps, but I do hope you’ll save that smart mouth for when we’re alone. It would be a shame if I had to discipline you in front of those ‘rich assholes’.”

“Considering you’re one of them?”

“Careful, Lydia. I’ll stop finding this cute shortly and remind you who you’re dealing with.” His lips thinned. “I’d prefer if that wasn’t necessary. I fully intend to enjoy the rest of our night.”

That sounded ominous. I finished dressing, taking a second at the vanity mirror to finally look at the scar on my face. The skin along the scar was shiny, a deep crimson which stood out in stark contrast to my white flesh. My face didn’t look like my own anymore. These creatures had marked every part of my body, as though the scars proved they owned me. As though I needed a reminder every time I saw my own reflection.

Maybe I did.

We headed downstairs, Cyrus letting me walk on my own, not holding my hand or keeping me too close. I slowed as we reached the ballroom. The guards standing at either side of the doors moved to open them, but Cyrus held up his hand for them to wait.

His steady gaze held mine. “Are you ready?”

I took a deep breath. Nodded.

The doors opened.

I started forward. No one seemed to notice me. They were all watching the stage.

Chains sounded. I refused to look. My throat tightened. I couldn’t move.

The bond hadn’t broken. I could sense him, so close.

Cyrus placed his hand on the small of my back. “She is watching, pet. This performance is for you. Don’t give her the satisfaction of hurting you again.”

A whip cracked.

I inhaled sharply.

“He’s strong. This is nothing.” Cyrus guided me to a chair. “If not for your own pride, do this for him. Show him you’re the strong woman he remembers.”

Lifting my head, I met Elah’s eyes. His lips curved slightly, his expression hardly changing as Daederich laid the whip across his back so hard blood splattered up to cover his bare chest. Elah was locked into a metal stockade, facing the crowd, which didn’t make sense because they couldn’t see the whip slicing open his back. But maybe that wasn’t the point.

There was something grotesquely beautiful about the scene. Both men shirtless, muscles slick with blood, brutal power barely contained, so deadly, within reach of an audience they could both eliminate with ease. There was a nervous energy in the room, as though the crowd was both excited and afraid.

They’d never faced real danger. This was no more than a carnival ride, a quick rush to leave one breathless, shallow entertainment before carrying on with a pointless existence. They might as well be visiting a zoo, throwing rocks at a wild cat and laughing as it slammed against the bars of the cage.

I pictured Elah breaking loose and slaughtering them with cold indifference. They saw him now, starved and restrained, and thought he’d been subdued, but all it would take was one mistake…

Looking at him again, I shook my head. Something was wrong. He kept still as the whip struck him, again and again. His expression remained calm. Hardly any blood spilled under the lash.

But the glove. The glove was gone.

The shackle on the right was closed around the bloody stump of his wrist. A fresh wound, one that hadn’t been given time to heal.

Blinking fast, I fought to hold back tears. Elah gave me a hard look as though to say ‘Don’t you dare cry.’

I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t look away.

He’d tried to escape. He would again. With or without me. I had to believe that.

Once he was free, he would go to Alrik. Make sure Cyrus and Rosali never got their hands on him.

And I could end this mockery of a life.

The whip hit the floor with a thunk.

Rosali stepped onto the stage, bending down in front of Elah, her red lips in a tight little smile. “You were a bad dog. I had the glove specially made for you and you tried to throw it away. With your hand…which was silly. Did you think it would grow back?”

Snickers rose from the crowd.

She straightened, giggling as though enjoying the attention. “What good is a hunter with one hand? Can you imagine him coming for you, waving around that stump?”

Only a few laughed this time, the sound dying away quickly. Not as stupid as they seemed. None of them would be willing to face Elah unbound, even with one less hand. And Rosali was losing her audience with that ridiculous statement. If he wasn’t a threat, why keep him restrained at all?

“You’re all weak, you know that?” Rosali bared her teeth, her eyes flashing with rage. “I should free him. Give him to you so you’ll see there’s nothing left of him to fear. But you’ve come to see him used. To see him humiliated.” She raked her hand into Elah’s hair, wrenching his head back as far as it would go. “If I was a proper hostess, I’d give you what you want, but he’s only good for one thing now.”

A blade flashed. Daederich rushed forward. The guards grabbed him. He growled, cracking his fist into the face of one. Slamming into the other.

His body hit the ground. The guards pinned him there.

I shot to my feet. Cyrus barred his arm across my chest.

The blade cut Elah’s throat.

“No!” I twisted in Cyrus’s grip. Snarling at him. “Let me go!”

“Rosali, stop this!” Cyrus shoved me behind him and took a step toward the stage. He went still. Tipped his head back. “What have you done?”

Wiping one bloody hand across her face, Rosali straightened. Held up Elah’s head.

She tossed it into the crowd. “Are you afraid of him now?”

I dropped to my knees.

No.

He couldn’t be gone.

No.

This couldn’t be real. I had to wake up. Demand Cyrus bring me back to the cell. Elah was still there. He had to be.

“Get up, Lydia.” Cyrus grabbed my arm. “Move!”

I stared at him. “I could have stopped her.”

“She would have killed you. Now fucking move.” He dragged me to my feet. Toward the door. “If I die, Alrik will too. We have to get out of here.”

His words made no sense.

Then I heard the screams. Gunshots. The crowd panicked, rushing for the exits. None seemed to know where the threat was coming from.

As Cyrus shoved me into the hall I spotted a familiar face.

Then another.

Hunters.

They’d found us.

Too late. Much too fucking late.

I stopped fighting Cyrus. Latched on to his wrist when he started for the front door. “They’ll be waiting out there. I need a weapon.”

Cyrus laughed. “So you can kill me yourself?”

“No.” I pulled him toward the back of the house. Now I knew this had to be some kind of fucked up nightmare. One I’d never escape. “So I can save your life.”