Page 37 of Bloody Kingdom

Ira’s thin, wrinkled hand reaches for mine. “Do you want to know what I think?” When I nod, he continues, voice low and hoarse. “If you truly wanted to rid yourself of him, you would, Quin. You would do it easily and never look back. If you can’t find the strength to do it now, it only means something is holding you back from doing just so.”

“I don’t know what could be holding me back,” I whimper, feeling the exhaustion of the whole situation in my bones. “Do you?”

Ira’s chuckles turn into raspy pants. “I can’t tell you that, dear. That’s something you need to find out for yourself.”

“They’ll be donein the next hour,” Della assures me as she finished squeezing yet another lemon. She’s making another batch of lemonade because the universe likes to find little ways to remind me of that night. “Or so they tell me.”

Popping the last bite of food in my mouth, I rise from the table. “Okay, I just want them to finish sooner while Ira is still having a good day. He won’t want to come down here and see if he starts to feel horrible again.” The nurse in me knows it’s only a matter of time before he’s back to spending his day sleeping the pain away.

“I’ll keep going out there to keep the pressure on them. If it helps, I’ll keep looking at my watch and sigh dramatically, so they’ll hurry,” Della promises me, a true smile on her face. Those are rare, but today’s an exciting day. She has a good reason to smile.

Ira’s roses are here, and they’re being planted as we speak.

“Sounds like a plan.” I laugh, tossing my plate into the dishwasher. “Holler when they’re done, I’ll go sit with Ira while we wait.”

Walking the halls back to the stairs, I take in the beautiful features of the house. Even after over a month of being here, the design of the house never ceases to amaze me. The original features mix perfectly with the modern updates and touches. No doubt whoever Silas paid to make the renovations was a talented individual.

Taking the curved staircase back upstairs, I pause at the top. The internal debate I have with myself each time I stand here starts up again. One direction will take me to the wing where Ira’s and my bedrooms are, the other will take me to Silas’s forbidden wing.

Biting my lip, I battle with myself as I stare down the hallway that is always so quiet. Devoid of any life or movement. I’m not convinced Silas even lives here, it’s so still down there. He’s gone till the wee hours of the morning doing hell knows what, and during the day, I have no idea where he is. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him during the daytime hours. So that begs the question, is he even here during the day?

The need to find out drives me forward.

Halfway down the hallway, I expect an alarm system to start blaring and red lights to start flashing, but they never come. The only sound is the pounding of my blood rushing in my ears as my adrenaline spikes. This is a bad idea. Iknowthis, but I don’t stop until I reach the doors that I know lead to Silas’s office.

My time in there my first night here is a total blur, I just remember it distinctly smelling of his cologne.

Creeping silently to the door, I press my ear to the wood and wait. Just like I expected, there is no movement, not even the slightest rustle of papers moving across a desk. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that it’s safe for me to go in there now, this house is never safe, but if I’m actually going to follow through with this, now is my chance.

Holding my breath, I turn the door handle and slip inside before I lose my nerve. Slowly, I close the door behind me as softly as I can so no one hears it. I can’t imagine Della would be any happier with me than Silas would if she found me in here snooping.

Yes, snooping. I’m a big enough person to admit that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Three out of the four walls are made of dark—almost black—bookcases. Each shelf is lined with books and other random knickknacks, but knowing the kind of man Silas is, I highly doubt they are pointless or useless objects. I’m sure each of the items is worth more than any car I could ever afford. In the middle of the room is the desk he sat at when he told me I was going to be a permanent prisoner here, it had felt like a death sentence at the time.

Starting on the right side of the room, I begin tiptoeing around the space. Occasionally, the hardwoods under my feet creak and each time they do, I pause, thinking someone has heard and they’re going to barge in at any time, but they never do.

His books vary from first editions of the classics that my fingers at my sides itch to touch, to historical biographies by significant historical figures. Some of those books look just as old as the classics, their spines worn and colors faded with time.

I’m not totally sure what I’m searching for in here other than just some insight on the man that’s stolen me and captivated my every thought.

What’s clear right off the bat is Silas is a neat freak. Not a completely shocking revelation, considering nothing on his person is ever out of place. Not a single hair on his head is ever wild. His black suits he wears daily never have a speck of lint or fuzz on them. Meanwhile, a lint roller is my best friend and ten minutes outside makes my hair frizzy. I’m a mess compared to Silas.

Running my finger along one of the shelves, there’s not even a hint of dust in sight. Does that mean he allows Della to come in here and clean? I can’t exactly see Silas on his hands and knees scrubbing these floors.

I was right. The little knickknacks all look to be artifacts from all over the world. Unlike the gift shop souvenirs most would bring back, it looks like Silas collects only the real stuff. Metal coins that look to be from France from many, many years ago sit in a shadow box. Not far from those is another small display case that ancient-looking skeleton keys are kept in. I wonder what they once opened? Surely Silas isn’t keeping them because they open something insignificant. A sword, the metal has long ago lost its sheen, sits in a case on one of the taller shelves, worn books anchoring each side of the glass case.

The items are everywhere, and each time I turn around, I find new ones. It would take more time than I have now to look at everything. Peeking through the dark curtains covering the windows, I find his office sits over the courtyard. The men hired to plant the flowers look like they’re nearly done, I’m running out of time.

Scanning the room, something catches my eye.

Tucked between a wall and the last bookcase is a narrow door. It’s made from the same wood as the shelves, making it almost blend in. It’s clear to me that this was done purposefully. Silas doesn’t want to bring attention to this door, which only intrigues me further.

I half expect the door to be locked, but I find the ornate metal doorknob turns easily. At first, I figure that whatever is in here can’t be that important if he doesn’t lock the door, but then I remember he has no reason to need a lock. No one would dare be stupid enough to snoop through his office.

No one but me.

I was always daring, never backed down from anything, but I never sought out danger. Not until I met Silas. Now, here I am, literally in the heart of the wolf’s den knowing that if I get caught my ass is as good as dead. Even knowing that, it doesn’t stop me from entering through the narrow door.

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