Page 68 of Cruel Master
Chapter Twenty-Eight -
Juliet
ThestoryHadriantellsis much, much weirder than any explanation I’d have been able to come up with on my own. Insane doesn’t begin to cover it. Not even a little bit.
At first, I listen in silence. I’ve never been good at that—I’m much more likely to leap in and pepper whatever poor soul is trying to speak with fifty thousand questions—but I don’t want to stop the flow of information. Even though the more Hadrian talks, the less plausible it all seems.
He’s part of a cult.
He doesn’t call it that, but I doubt anyone in a cult thinks that’s what they’re in. That part kind of makes sense. I suppose. Cults and captive women do go hand in hand. But there’s no religion involved, no Great Leader in red robes doing human sacrifices. If Hadrian is to be believed, it’s a cult of scientists. The captive women are just an added bonus.
I’d ask him just what in the actual fuck he’s talking about, but my tongue is frozen to the roof of my mouth as his words fill myhead. Scientists. A bunch of geeks working to the betterment of mankind, with enslaved women at their sides. No. No way. He’s lost his mind, and this is all a delusion.
Except…
This cell must have cost an insane amount of money. Hadrian’s family are nowhere near as rich as they try to act. He could be making good money working for some tech firm, but enough to pay for all this? It’s hard to imagine the cost of it all. Millions, surely. Unless Hadrian had a lotto win, other people must be involved in this somewhere.
“I know it sounds insane,” he finishes.
We sit in silence, and I stare down at my knees as my poor, battered brain tries to process another lurch toward the bizarre. Had Hadrian lost his mind? Did it snap after I turned him in? It’s a horrible thought, and I shy away from it. No. It can’t be that.
Finally, I look up at Hadrian. His face is solemn, no hint that this is all some elaborate joke. Not that Hadrian was ever the type to joke at someone else's expense.
He wasn’t the type to hold women captive, either.
Good point.
I clear my throat. “May I ask questions now, Master?”
He nods. “You may.”
Somehow, I don’t thinkare you fucking seriouswill go down well, so I search for something more productive. Ever since he revealed himself, all I’ve wanted to do is question him, and now I can’t think of a single goddamn thing to say.
He doesn’t rush me, watching calmly as I try to organize my thoughts. There are a million questions I ought to ask—sensible questions that might help me work out what the hell is really going on—but instead, I blurt out, “Why me?”
It’s a stupid question. I betrayed him, and he lost everything. Of course he wants to punish me. I should have asked something else, because what does it matter, really? But I hold my breath as I wait for the answer.
Hadrian glances away, and a flicker of sadness makes its way through his stern expression. He takes a long time collecting his thoughts before he says, “I only ever wanted you, doll. I’ve never cared about anyone else. And when I discovered how you need to be treated and the risks you were taking…”
He bends, running a finger over my cigarette burns. The old shame rears up, scorching hot. He thinks he’s rescuing me? Saving me from myself?
Isn’t he?
What happened with Trent taught me a lesson, for a while, but hadn’t I almost taken just as stupid a risk? When my obsession was in the driving seat, everything else went out of the window.
Trent.
Shit.
What had Saldar said about Trent? The memory of those early days, when I was still in shock, is blurry. My mouth seems to be working again, as I ask, “Trent. The guy who…” I gesture at the burns. “Did you…”
Hadrian’s face hardens. “I took care of him.”
My mouth drops open, and I jerk back with a gasp. “You…you killed him?”
Hadrian’s eyes widen, and his hands fly up, as if he’s fending off the suggestion. “What? No! I found some really questionable stuff on his hard drive. You weren’t the first woman he hurt. I tipped off the police, and he’s looking at ten years minimum. I’m sure he’ll get what he deserves in prison.”
My hands shake, and I clasp them together. Fuck. My heart hammers, taking a while to adjust to what Hadrian just said. As my adrenaline sputters out, I fight an insane urge to burst out laughing at Hadrian’s still appalled expression. It’s so normal. So him. He’s shocked I thought he’d turned into a killer. He still draws a line somewhere.
