Page 75 of Eternal

Serena and I stare at each other.

"Why would he call us here, only to have it be so brief? Plus, why is he going over this information all of a sudden?" Serena questions.

"I don't know," I whisper, staring at the door they just left out of.

He did it with purpose, that much I do know. But it certainly felt like he is anticipating his demise any day now.

Chapter thirty-two

Freya

It’sbeenaweeksince my meeting with my father, and one week since I exposed the truth of Soren’s obsession. With everything else that had been going on, I forgot that there was still one simple question I need to answer.

Where is he disappearing every night?

I sit in my library with the lights off, waiting for him to appear. If he exited this door once, he’s bound to do it again. I hear a creak and the bookshelf reopens. Soren steps through the doorway and freezes spotting my silhouette in the armchair beside the fireplace. He stands taller and holds the bookcase open.

“What is down there, Soren?” I question, holding my ground as I demand an answer from him.

“It’s not what is down there, but who is down there,” Soren replies casually.

My blood runs cold as his sentence washes over me. “Who is down there, Soren?”

He exhales deeply. “Freya, you will never come back the same. Just drop it.”

I stand, rushing at him. “No. You do not get to do this to me. Who. Is. Down. There?”

We stand off with each other, waiting for one of us to budge. “Fine. I’ll show you,” Soren grunts, turning back and leading me down the staircase.

As we start to descend, I hesitate momentarily.

“Are you sure?” Soren asks again.

I stare at him. “Just show me who the fuck is down here.” I huff and continue walking.

He moves out of the way, allowing me to walk down the hall first.

“It’s the door at the end of the hallway.” I take larger steps, my fingers itching to reach the door knob. And when they do, Soren’s voice echoes again, “Just remember. I’ll never hurt you.” Then the door swings open to a gruesome, bloody scene.

But my eyes are drawn to the figure slumped over in the chair.

“Already back for more?” The bloodied, beaten figure says. He’s missing fingernails, teeth scattered across the floor, and deep cuts run along his skin. My hands fly up to my mouth as I gasp, taking a step back. I cannot move as Soren stands behind me, pushing me further into the room so he can shut and lock the door.

“I brought a guest this time,” Soren answers, almost amused with the sight in front of him.

“Ah, you brought back your bitch boy?”

“No. Someone else.”

The figure lifts its head, and they take a moment to look at me. But I’m immediately slammed with horrific memories. It’s been a year since I had seen those eyes. A year since those hands have hurt me. The whites of his eyes are blood red like blood vessels have been broken, similar to how mine looked after he hit me in the temple, his teeth missing as he grins like the cat who ate the canary, just like how he smiled at me as I was being raped by his coworkers. His cheeks were battered with bruises, just like how I looked when he threw me down the stairs when I told him I was leaving him. The first time. His neck resembles something like he’s been strangled a few times, just like how he made me look when he fucked me with such violence; it would make Ted Bundy proud.

Tristan. In the flesh.

Tears start to well up in my eyes, but I turn to look at Soren, who is devoid of all emotions. He’s never looked like this before. Soren’s eyes meet mine, and they shift to seek approval. From me.

“I found him,” He says.

I swallow down the lump forming in my throat, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I feel his gaze on me. Soren sees my visible discomfort and turns his attention back to Tristan.

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