Page 41 of Vengeful King

Lachlan. I know he’s coming back. I don’t know if he’s coming to kill me, or if he’s going to follow through with his threats. I try to see if he’s carrying anything, but in the darkness, I can’t tell.

He looks the same as he did when he first left. His face is cold, his movements contained. There’s no energy or wildness in the way he steps across the room toward me.

But the closer he gets, the more I can see the anger simmering beneath the surface.

It’s hiding in his eyes, in the tight curl of his hands. He looks like he could kill a man right now. Or he could killme.But he doesn’t, at least not immediately. He just walks up to me and pauses, shoes scuffing as he stops.

He’s thinking. Calculating. I don’t know what he’s looking for but I try to stay absolutely still, hoping maybe he’ll figure I’m not a threat and let me go. Maybe he’ll have some kind of pity and offer me a deal.

Instead, Lachlan walks around behind me and snaps away the restraint circling my chest. It feels like freedom when it opens, and I take a deep, slow breath. I watch him undo the other restraints and hope soars in my chest.

Is this it?Is he about to let me go, maybe say it’s over? Maybe he found Mr. V, took him out, and it’s all over now.

I try to look at him and figure out what he’s thinking, but it's impossible. I can’t say anything, too scared to break the silence and somehow anger him enough to tie me back up. I just follow his lead as he takes me by my wrist, his hand on the tie there, pulling me through the basement.

My heart pounds as I follow. Suddenly, being untied doesn’t seem like such a good thing. Is he actually letting me go? Or is he just taking me to my death? I can feel my palms becoming clammy, sweat beginning to prickle my forehead.

Maybe I was stupid to hope. Maybe this is it and I’m just walking right to my grave.

But then Lachlan reaches for a door and when it swings open, light blinds me. I squint, pulling back a little as I look into the room. Part of me expects to see a morgue.

But it’s a bathroom.

It hits me in a rush how full my bladder is. I hadn’t realized it before, but as soon as I see the bathroom, I realize how badly I need to pee. There’s a rush of relief in my chest as I step into the room, and I turn around to close the door behind me.

But Lachlan’s foot is resting against the door as he stares down at me, impassive, the lines of his face unmoving.

He’s not going to let me close it. He’s not going to give me privacy.

I can feel my cheeks burning. He probably isn’t doing it to humiliate me, but just because he doesn’t trust me. Still, the humiliation works in his favor, too. The more uncomfortable I am, the more likely I am to break.

Part of me wants to refuse, to ignore this opportunity just to spite him, to refuse to give him this one other thing that he’s trying to take from me.

But I don’t know how long I'm going to be here or if he’ll let me go to the bathroom again. I can’t ignore this; I'll just end up hurting myself even more. So as much as I hate it, as much as I’m embarrassed, I try to force it down and pretend I'm alone.

Lachlan doesn't turn away. He just looks through me, not truly looking but watching, making sure I don’t do anything. I finish, my face burning, and pull my underwear back up as fast as I can.

I’m still in the dress I wore to the club. It feels inappropriate now, almost forced. Like I'm wearing it just for him to look at me while I'm captive.

But I know he doesn’t care about me or my body. He’s focused on figuring out what I know. Why I tried to kill him.

When I finish, I wash my hands. Lachlan speaks again as I turn. “This is a privilege. You could have more, if you talk.”

I don’t answer. I stand at the sink, my hands still wet, and feel my limbs go rigid. I want to leave the bathroom; I feel trapped in the small room now, stuck between him and a wall. There’s nowhere to turn. I can only face him and choose to answer or not.

And I'm not going to answer.

“I’m not asking for much,” he continues, voice low. “But I could be.”

It’s a threat. I can feel a chill run down my spine; I know this is the real reason for him bringing me to the bathroom. He’s giving me something good so he can show me what it would be like if I cooperated. So he can remind me how bad it could get if I refuse.

If I keep my mouth shut, I'm sure I’ll end up peeing in a bucket next.

But I still can’t tell him anything. I keep my lips pressed together, my heart pounding and my pulse rushing in my ears.

Lachlan’s jaw twitches. The anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface. But he doesn’t make a move, doesn’t even speak to me again. He just pulls a phone out of his pocket and taps on the screen.

It’smyphone. The thought sends an uneasy shiver through me. I can tell he’s really going through it, and I also know he must have unlocked it when I was knocked out. He pressed my finger to the screen and got it to open.

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