Page 122 of Chaotic Curse
“Fine.”I step back.“If I find what you’re talking about and it’s damning enough, I’ll come back and let you go.On one condition.”
He swallows.“Name it.”
“You never go near Daniela again.”
His eyes flicker, like he’s about to push me, test how far I’ll go.I don’t give him the chance.
I move behind him, unbind his hands, and then rebind them in front of him and hand him a fork as I gesture to the tray.“You eat, you live longer,” I tell him.“Lie to me, and this will be your last decent meal.”
He doesn’t thank me.Just picks up the fork, eyes locked on mine as he chews.
His eating grates on me.He sounds like a pig who just got slopped.
When he’s done, I give him a minute of privacy to relieve himself in the corner of the barn, and then I bind and gag him again.
I leave him alone with the taste of food in his mouth.
“If you’re lying to me,” I say before shutting the door, “I’ll fucking end you.”
The barn door creaks shut.The lock slides home.
And for the first time all day, I feel the smallest bit in control.
38
DANIELA
I’m earlythe next morning.The kitchen lab is still dark.I walk in, the only sound the hum of the industrial refrigerators.
I walk past the room and toward the hallway that leads to the offices.I find Chef Charleston’s and knock.
“Yes?Come in.”
I open the door.His office is stark except for a desk, a computer, a small sink—weird—and a shelf full of cookbooks.It fits him.
“Good morning, Chef.”
“Daniela, good morning.”He smiles.“You said you wanted some help with an independent project?”
I clear my throat.“Yeah.Thanks for seeing me.”
He stands, washes his hands at the little sink.He yawns.“I’m sorry,” he says as he dries himself with a paper towel and throws it in a small wastebasket.“I’m exhausted.My daughter hosted a sleepover two nights ago and I’m still catching up.”
“You have a daughter?”
“Yes.Guinevere.She goes by Gwen.She’s eleven going on thirty.”He chuckles.
I blink.“Gwen?”
“Gwen C.,” he says, amused.“That’s what the homeschool group calls her because there’s another girl in the group, Gwendolyn, who also goes by Gwen.”
Heat pricks my neck.Gwen C.Belinda’s Gwen C.From class.From the slide.From the bowl of cheese balls.
I keep my face neutral.“Sounds fun.”
He huffs a laugh.“If you like glitter in your coffee.All right.”He gestures to the door.“Let’s go to the kitchen.We’ve got a little under a half hour or so before anyone else gets here.”
We step into the quiet kitchen.Everything gleams.
