Page 74 of Cruel Master
This was so much easier when she was in her cell.
I force myself to channel my inner Saldar. “Did you really think that was a good idea?”
She ignores me, trying one last desperate plea to the guards. “I mean it. Look up my name and Brightscape games. I have money. I’ll give it all to you if you just—”
I interrupt her and wave off the lingering guards. “The Gilda can’t be bought. They know they’ll end up dead if they cross the Brotherhood. No one is going to help you escape. No one.”
She tears her gaze from the guards, apparently giving up, and stares down at the ground. I let her kneel there for a long minute, thinking about what comes next. Will I get an apology or bravado? I let her decide and sigh.
Back to the cell for a punishment, then. A couple more days of true captivity, and she’ll be desperate to come out into the Compound again. The thought of taking her back into the stone prison sits heavily on me. I like having her out here. It feels right, even though it’s difficult.
I reach down and help Juliet to her feet. I brush the detritus from her knees, then catch myself in the act. Too gentle.
“Apologize to me and to the guards for disturbing their day.”
The words come easier, as if thinking of Juliet in her cell has shifted me back into Saldar. Juliet bites her lip and stays silent for long enough that I’m sure she’ll argue, but she snaps out, “Sorry, Master. And sorry, guards, for disturbing your day.”
There’s no grace to the words, but she said them. It’ll do.
I call to the guard, “The key to the cuffs, please.”
He tosses it over, and incredibly, I actually catch it. Being Saldar must be improving my hand-to-eye coordination, too. I don’t remove the cuffs, instead gripping Juliet by them and steadying her as I take her the short way back from the gate. Neither of us says a word, though she watches, wide-eyed, as we emerge from the alley at the side of the refectory into the main plaza.
It’s lunchtime, and people fill the space, chatting on their way to or from the restaurants. A mixture of men and women, and Juliet’s gaze flicks over them, disbelieving.
I’m so busy watching her I don’t notice Quinn until she’s right on top of us.
Her purple hair has washed out to patchy blue, and she hasn’t bothered to redye it. Her face, usually pale, is ghostly white, and she’s staring at Juliet in open-mouthed horror.
Shit.
Not now.
Not yet.
I look behind her, hoping to see Jacob but instead find Eve, who rushes up to Quinn, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, we should—”
Quinn shoves her off and points a finger at me. “What the fuck is wrong with you? She looks exactly like her!”
Conversations around us quiet, and people stop what they’re doing to stare. A flush creeps up my skin at all the eyes on us. Eve tries again, tugging at Quinn’s arm. “Come on, we need to—”
Quinn steps forward, eyes full of tears. “Is that why you killed her?”
ChapterThirty
Juliet
Isthatwhyyoukilled her?
I take a panicked step back from Hadrian, almost stumble, but manage to catch my footing. Thank fuck, because with my hands tied, I’d have hit the deck. He acted like I was crazy for thinking he killed Trent, but there’s no instant denial now. No confusion. All I see on his face is guilt. Jesus Christ.
The tiny woman pointing at Hadrian doesn’t look well. Her eyes are ringed with blue, her skin is pasty white, and her big mass of wavy hair looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in days. She turns to me, and her blue eyes fill with tears, lip wobbling.
Sebastian and Ophelia both did a double take when they saw me, and now this? What the fuck is going on?
“I didn’t kill her.” Hadrian’s voice has a gentle, placating note. Sad rather than angry. “She’s just offline while I—”
“It’s been weeks, and you haven’t even tried to fix her. You don’t even know if she’s still herself, and you haven’t bothered to find out. All you care about now is…”
