Page 50 of Goldrage
By the time I emerge, wrapped in a towel that feels too luxurious for a prisoner, Bianca is waiting by the window with her medical supplies. Her “care” of me is really unnecessary since my bullet wound is no longer at risk of infection.
But I must play along. I pull on some sweats and then join her at the window to get this over with.
“You’re healing so well,” she says as her fingers work. Her touch lingers, fingertips tracing the raised edge of scar tissue with a reverence that makes me want to slap her hand away. “Soon you’ll be strong enough for… everything we discussed. I’ve already talked to some of my friends. They’re more than eager to have, well, a party. Something to fully satisfy you. There will be four of us. I hope that’s enough.” She bats her eyes at me and I look away, resisting a sigh.
I know exactly what kind of “party” she means—the kind where consent becomes a fluid concept and boundaries exist only to be violated. The kind my father forced me to attend, to participate in, while he watched with those dead eyes that haunt my dreams.
I want no such parties. There’s only one woman I’ll ever want.
She applies a new bandage and I frown at her. This woman who wears my ring is completely oblivious to the revulsion she inspires. My gaze drifts to the window, seeking escape from her suffocating presence.
My heart flips as I see my love again.
Aurelia moves through the garden below likea ghost of her former self. Even from two stories up, I can read the defeat in the curve of her spine, the way she places each foot as if the earth might swallow her whole. The fierce warrior who killed for justice has been replaced by someone carrying a weight that threatens to crush her.
Is it the pregnancy wearing on her? The captivity? Or is it the same bone-deep exhaustion I feel when I think about how many more fights await us?
I’m sorry I couldn’t reach you last night, my love. But I will.
Patience.
Bianca’s voice fades into the background as I memorize every detail. The way morning light catches in Aurelia’s hair. How she pauses by the fountain. The protective way her hand drifts to her abdomen.
I’m here. I see you. Hold on.
“—don’t you think?” Bianca’s question pulls me back.
“Of course,” I respond automatically, having no idea what I’ve agreed to. It doesn’t matter. Nothing she says or does matters beyond its potential to affect my ultimate plans.
She beams as if I’ve given her the world. When she finally leaves, promising me a future where she’ll bring multiple women I can use for my pleasure, I sigh again and remain at the window.
Aurelia has settled on a bench, her face tilted toward weak sunlight. From here, I can almost pretend we’re back at Lorenzo’s estate, before bullets and betrayals shattered everything. Before I failed to protect her. Again.
The soft click of my door opening makes me turn. I’mexpecting Julian’s volatile presence or another guard come to ensure I’m properly caged.
But it’s neither.
Lady Harrow drifts in, and my eyes are drawn to the bandage across her nose. I hadn’t heard of anything happening to her, so I wonder if she got some surgery done. There are deep bruises along the bridge and under her eyes that I didn’t notice the other night but it was dark in the kitchen so I suppose I just overlooked them.
But I’m not going to ask; I don’t care.
She holds a remote that she aims at the corner camera. The red recording light blinks off.
Useful. If I could get my hands on that remote…
“Hello, Adrian.” Honey drips from every syllable, sweet enough to mask the arsenic underneath. Though there’s a new nasal twang to the sounds. “I thought it was time we had a chat.”
I don’t move from my position by the window, though every instinct screams to maintain maximum distance from this creature wearing my mother’s clothes. Showing weakness now would be like bleeding in shark-infested waters.
“Lady Harrow,” I respond. Calling her “mother” would be a lie too large for my throat to manage.
“Such formality.” She drifts closer with deliberate leisure, as if we’re having tea rather than circling each other like combatants. “Though I suppose after everything that’s happened, warmth might be too much to expect.”
“You shot me. Tried to kill me to protect your schemes. I’d say formality is generous.”
She smiles in a way that only darkens her gaze. “I did what was necessary to protect this family. You forced my hand with your pathetic infatuation and your betrayal.”
“Betrayal?” I turn from the window to face her fully, maintaining the calm that has always been my armor even as fury builds under my skin. “I fell in love. If that’s betrayal, then I’m guilty as charged.”
