I try to feel assured by his words. It’s useless. I can’t shake the new vulnerability that’s gripped like a fist around my heart as we speed around bend after bend, sirens blaring in the distance.
“He didn’t seem unhinged,” I murmur, remembering the acute hatred in his eyes. “He just seemed…furious.”
“Dangerous,” Simms corrects.
“If he actually wanted to hurt me, he could’ve pulled out a knife or a gun. One small move, I’d be dead. But he didn’t.” I shake my head. “I think he just wanted to make a spectacle. To humiliate me, not hurt me.”
“I urge you not to waste another thought on the matter, Your Highness. The man is already in custody. By the time we’re back at the castle, Bane will have dealt with him.”
“Dealt with him?” My brows lift. “And how exactly will hedealwith him?”
“That’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
My mouth opens, then promptly shuts again. I want to object, to insist he tell me more… but I’m not even sure where to start or which questions to ask. And even if I did, Simms probably wouldn’t answer me.
Always keeping me in the dark.
Always shielding me from the truth.
I turn to look out my window, feeling strangely unsettled — and not just because of the residual spit I can still feel drying on my left cheekbone.