The woman’s Cheshire grin beams at me through the dark. “For you to have supper with me.”
Her painted smile and dark eyes make her look unhinged, and for a moment, I wonder what she would do if I told her to shove the food straight up her tight asshole.
Thoughts loading…
Nah, not gonna risk it.
“I’m not exactly dressed for dinner.” My gaze shifts pointedly down to my dust-covered and torn clothing that also lacks foot apparel.
“Narana will take you to bathe and change,” my grandmother assures me before turning to leave. She stops at the door, and turning her head, she warns, “And in case you get any bright ideas about attempting to run—know that every inch of this house is guarded, and you will be put down like a dog if you try.”
“And here I thought you didn’t want me dead.”
Her smile turns vicious. “Let me spell it out for you then,” she elaborates. “You try and run, and I will make sure each of my guards has a turn fucking you like the bitch you are. How’s that?”
I swallow hard, my face paling at her words. “Much better. Crystal clear.” Keeping the tremor from my voice is near impossible. “Five stars.”
“Good.”
And then she is gone. Like Dracula through the mist. If I find a stake and drive it through her withering heart, I wonder if she would turn to dust.
“Let’s go.” Narana, a brawny older woman with a square face and peg-shaped nose, steps toward me, grabbing my upper arm in a bruising grip. “Follow me. No trouble.”
Hulk. Smash.
Well, with that accent, she isn’t Irish.
I let her lead me from the cell and down the corridor toward the stairs that lead up to the main house. Or what I hope is the main house. I wasn’t conscious when they brought me in. Cement stairs end at a large wooden door, and when Narana opens it, the smell of spice engulfs me.
Definitely a step up from the mold and piss smell downstairs.
A few more sharp turns and a flight of stairs later, we land in front of another wooden door that Narana tells me is my temporary suite.
How nice of grandmother to give me such luxuries.
“Shower,” Narana demands, shoving me toward the en-suite bathroom. “You have ten minutes. No more. I come back to do hair.”
“Sure,” I mutter as she stalks from the room, her tree-trunk legs moving much faster than I would have thought. The slam of the door and the click of the lock seal me inside.
Alone.
Great. I am locked in.
I make my way into the lavish, overly tiled bathroom and turn on the shower to warm before sliding out of my dirt-encrusted clothes. Do I want to have dinner with my psychotic grandmother? No. But I do want a shower, and that is enough to get me to cooperate.
For now.
They’re alive.
Stepping under the warm spray, I tilt my head back and let the water drown away the only tears I will allow myself in this house. No matter what happens after I step outside the bubble of this space, I won’t let it break me.
But I do need a plan.
Escape isn’t going to be easy, and my grandmother’s threat isn’t an idle one, so I need to be careful.
Very careful.
Matthias will come for me.