“Fair?!” I say, venom lacing every word. “Do you want to talk about fairness, Riggs? Do you want to talk about how fair it is that my brother kept his feelings a secret? Or how fair it is that his only other option is a woman who has made my life hell? Or better yet, why don’t we talk about how fair it is that while you’re all sitting here filling your stomachs, the only morally decent one of us is probably starving in a cage somewhere?”
Silence settles over the table, thick and suffocating. The boys exchange looks, communicating in that quiet way they always do. If I were a decent person, I would stop, but I’m not. I never have been. I was tainted the moment my genetics decided I was going to be female.
I stand, meeting each of their eyes.
“Do not talk to me about what is fair. Newsflash, life is not fair. It’s about time you men understood that, because aswomen, we have been living it since we were old enough to bleed.”
I grab my bag and turn to leave.
“Wait, Fae, where are you going?” Atlas gently grabs my wrist before I get far.
“Home,” I mumble. “I’ll see you at eight.”
“I’ll take you. Felix dropped you off this morning.” He stands, already gathering his things.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll get a cab.”
“I’m going home anyway, Fae. Humour me.”
I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the emotion. For a long time, I blamed Father for not having friends, but the truth is I am difficult to love. I know they don’t deserve my backlash, but I have nowhere to put the pain and anger that sits under my skin.
I nod, thanking him as we make our way to the car park. When I spot his BMW R12 motorbike, a quiet thrill runs through me at the thought of riding it home. He unlocks the compartment, shoves our bags inside, pulls out a spare helmet and secures it under my chin.
Tapping my head, he swings onto the bike and gestures for me to climb on behind him. I wrap my arms around Atlas as the bike leans into the bends, the road stretching ahead like a ribbon pulled too fast. Hedges blur into green walls, fields flash in and out of view, and the sky opens wide above us. The engine growls beneath me, vibrating through my chest, drowning out every stray thought as the wind tears through my hair and steals the air from my lungs.
Each turn tips my stomach, sending a sharp thrill through me, as fear tangles tightly with something that feels dangerously close to freedom. The air smells of cut grass and damp earth, and with every mile, the world narrows until there is nothing left but the motion and the noise and the relief.
By the time we pull up outside my flat, my hands are still tight around him. I undo the helmet as Atlas grabs our things and when I turn back to him, he pulls me into a hug. It lasts longer than usual, heavy with things neither of us say. When I pull back, his hands settle on my shoulders as I look up into his blue eyes.
“I’ll see you tonight. Remember, Fae, you’re an incredibly strong woman, and we are all so proud of you.”
My breath stutters at his words, my eyes sting despite myself. For a moment, I wonder how he came to that conclusion. Did he hack into something he shouldn’t have? Has he found evidence of what I’ve endured? Do I even want to know?
I press a quick kiss to his cheek before heading up to the flat. Collapsing onto the sofa, I hit shuffle on Spotify, and ‘Panic Room by Au/Ra’ starts to play. I kick off my shoes and let the weight of the last twenty-four hours settle over me.
CHAPTER 13
ROMAN
‘Ain’t no mountain high enough by Marvin Gaye’repeats for what feels like the thousandth time as I take a seat on one of the metal folding chairs we brought down here. I cross my legs, resting my foot on my knee as I inhale the rich cigar smoke. I am not a heavy smoker, not like Atlas, but after a session it hits better than usual. I am stressed, which is not a feeling I am used to and I hope once I deal with this my blood pressure will settle.
I am partly angry at what Fae told me, but mostly I am angry at myself. I am still trying to figure out how something like this went on without my knowledge. That is not entirely true though. I did know. I just didn’t understand the significance until earlier today… or maybe yesterday. I am not sure anymore.
Time gets lost down here.
There are no windows and the light is scarce by design. A single bulb hums behind a wired cage, but the glow barely reaches the corners of the room. The limestone walls are scarred from years of neglect. The dark floor is uneven and cold enough to leech heat from the bone. From the centre of the ceiling, thick chains hang, heavy and patient. So many options with just one simple tool. It is fascinating, really.
It is not the room that gets to you down here, it is the air. It smells of rot, damp, and iron, but my favourite part is that it reeks of fear.
Against one wall sits a metal tray on wheels, like something from a doctor’s office. My chosen weapons are laid out in perfect order. The hammer is already glistening with leftover flesh, the blades catch the light as I move and the pizza cutter gleams every time I shift. Pliers, whips, tweezers, and rope sit beside them, waiting.
A silver box is bolted into the stone nearby. The glass vials inside are filled with different little treats that glisten like shark’s teeth. The sink on the right-hand side is deep and industrial, new and out of place down here. On either side of the hanging chains, two metal chairs are bolted to the floor, facing one another. That was my idea. It’s cool, right? Imagine betraying someone I love and having to watch someone you love suffer for it, all while tied down to something you cannot move.
Ingenious, if you ask me.
Minus the chair I am sat on, a couple more are folded up in the shadows. That was ‘a must.’ I roll my eyes at that. I prefer to work alone, but I was overruled. What started as my idea turned into some weird group bonding session. At least I am the first to use it.
Felix will need ground rules. I refuse to come down here and find my pizza cutter unwashed and sitting by the sink. Augh, just thinking about it puts me back in a bad mood. At what point can you kill your future wife’s twin for being so un-house-trained? I feel like three years is enough.