Page 22 of Knight

“Okay, let’s say you’re right. What did I do with him, and why didn’t I just kill you when you disturbed me?”

She doesn’t answer.

CHAPTER TEN

Evangeline

Silence fillsthe apartment like a living thing, broken only by a humming noise from somewhere beyond the living room. Fresh needles of pain stab through my arms as feeling returns, constant waves of fire that steal my breath. I try to ease it by moving, and a tremor rips through my shoulder. I bite back a whimper.

The sound draws his attention and I freeze, prey-still under his gaze. Under the warm sunlight spilling through the window, the marks on his face from where I hit him are visible, faint but there. The sight should satisfy something in me, but it only emphasizes how completely at his mercy I am.

"The pain is going to get worse before it gets better." He sounds almost analytical, like I’m some kind of science experiment. "Your body is remembering how to process sensation."

"Thanks to you." I can’t stop the retort.

His head tilts, eyes narrowing, then he stands and I shrink back against the back of the couch. But he only walks away, moving past without looking at me. Every step reminds me how easily he carried me in here, how helpless I am if he decides to hurt me again.

Water runs somewhere out of sight. Doors open and close. I try to focus on breathing, on staying conscious through waves of pain that threaten to drag me under. My fingers spasm with returning circulation, each twitch a fresh burst of agony.

When he returns, there’s something white dissolving in the water glass he carries. The sight of him approaching sends a fresh wave of terror through me.

I hate what he’s turned me into. I’m not this shrinking, fearful girl.

"Painkillers." He rests the straw against my lips. Like I should just accept anything from him after what he's done.

I turn my face away. "No."

"Right. Because martyrdom is clearly the correct answer here." His dry tone makes me stiffen. He takes a sip of water. "Drink the fucking water before you pass out. I'm not in the mood to deal with dramatics."

Another spasm rips through my shoulder, and I can't stop the small sound that escapes. He shoves the straw between my parted lips. The water tastes bitter, but I drink. I need to stay alert. Need to figure out what he's done with Knight.

"Where is he?" The question bursts out as soon as he sets the glass aside. Even talking hurts, but I need to know. "What did you do with Knight?"

He ignores my questions. "Tell me about the first time you messaged him."

"What?"

"Three weeks ago. Middle of the night. What made you reach out?"

The memory surfaces despite my attempt to push it away. Just after midnight. Another dead end with the police. I'd been searching missing persons forums, desperate for anything I'd missed.

"Someone on a forum mentioned that there are hackers who help find people who have disappeared."

"And he responded immediately." It isn’t a question.

"He messaged me after I put a post up in one of the groups. He understood about Michael." My voice wobbles. "About what it's like when the police stop looking."

"Of course he did." His fingers tap an irritated rhythm against the arm of his chair. "Tell me exactly what he said."

"Why does it matter?"

"Humor me."

"He said ..." I swallow hard, remembering that first conversation. "He said sometimes people disappear for reasons the police can't investigate. That sometimes you need someone who knows how to look deeper."

"Perfect response." His mouth twists. "Exactly what you needed to hear."

"He knew what he was talking about."

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