Page 24 of Sweet Doe
"Tired," I answer honestly. "Confused."
"That's understandable." He sets the mug on the bedside table within my reach, close enough that I can smell the rich chocolate and something else… cinnamon, maybe, or vanilla. It’s vanilla. "It's natural to feel overwhelmed when you’re going through so many changes all at once."
I reach for the hot chocolate, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic cup. The heat feels good against my cold fingers, and despite everything, I'm grateful for the gesture. Which is exactly what he's counting on, I'm sure.
"Thank you," I say, taking a small sip. It's perfect, of course. Rich and sweet with just a hint of vanilla that makes it special.
"I picked up a few other things when I was in town," he continues, settling into the chair beside the bed. "Some books, magazines, puzzles. I thought you might get bored."
Bored. Like I'm here on vacation instead of being held against my will.
"That's... thoughtful." I force the words out, trying to sound genuinely appreciative rather than sarcastic.
His smile is warm, almost boyish. "I want you to be comfortable, Sloan. I know this is an adjustment, but I'm hoping you'll start to see the possibilities here. The freedom from all the expectations and pressures of your old life."
Freedom. The irony would be funny if it weren't so terrifying.
"It's hard to feel free when I'm chained to a bed," I point out gently, testing the waters.
"That's temporary," he assures me quickly. "Just until you understand that running would only hurt you. Once you accept that your home is with me now, you'll have much more freedom to move around."
"And when will that be?"
"When you stop looking at me like I'm a monster." His voice is soft, almost vulnerable. "When you stop planning escape routes every time I leave the room."
The honesty catches me off guard. He knows exactly what I've been doing, exactly what I'm thinking. But instead of being angry about it, he sounds almost... sad?
"You killed your brother," I say quietly. "How am I supposed to look at you?"
"Alex was going to destroy you." The warmth disappears from his voice. "He was weak and selfish and he would have broken down everything beautiful about you until there was nothing left."
"That wasn't your choice to make."
"Wasn't it?" He leans forward, his eyes intense. "Who else was going to protect you? Who else saw what he was doing to you and cared enough to stop it?"
There's something almost desperate in his voice, like he needs me to understand his logic. Needs me to validate his actions. And that desperation is exactly what I need to exploit.
"I understand that you thought you were helping," I say carefully, "but killing someone... that's not protection. That's not love."
"Then what is love?" The question comes out raw, unguarded. "Is it letting someone hurt the person you care about? Is it standing by while they slowly destroy everything that makes them special?"
The pain in his voice is real. Whatever happened in his past, whoever failed to protect him when he needed it, the wound is still fresh. Still bleeding.
"Love is trust," I say softly. "It's believing that the person you care about can make their own decisions, even if you don't agree with them."
"And if those decisions are destroying them?"
"Then you talk to them. You support them. You help them see other options." I set down the hot chocolate and meet his gaze. "You don't murder people."
He's quiet for a long moment, studying my face like he's looking for something specific. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.
"You don't understand what it's like to watch someone you love being hurt and not be able to stop it."
The raw honesty in those words hits me hard. For just a moment, the mask slips completely, and I see the broken person underneath all that control. Someone who's been hurt so badly that murder seems like a reasonable response to perceived threats.
It doesn't excuse what he's done. Nothing could excuse that. But it gives me a look into his mind, into the twisted logic that brought us to this moment.
And insight is power.
