Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
Daisy removed the sharp metal nail file from the nail kit and shoved everything but the file and syringe back inside the leather case.
Wandering back to the sitting area, she swiped a hunk of cheese without ceremony. Biting into it, her eyes bulged at the sharp flavor. She pressed her fingers to her lips, unsure what to make of it as she chewed.
Ripping open the packet of Paracetamol, she swallowed the two pills and chased them down with water and another piece of cheese. She left the syringe and file hidden under the edge of the tray and moved toward the balcony doors, her feet slowing at the threshold.
Beyond the glass, the grounds stretched in silver and shadow, lit by scattered torches and the cold eye of the moon. And there, far below, the hunt continued. Women darted from the tree line like startled deer, their gowns streaming behind them as men gave chase. Shadowed bodies clustered in alcoves and open fields, moving in hedonistic rhythms that should have shocked her, but the distance allowed her to watch with cold detachment to what others felt below.
Music drifted to her ears. Moans. Laughter. The wet percussion of flesh. A bell tolled loudly from above, and Daisy flinched—not as desensitized as she thought.
Was he out there? Was that where he ran off to?
She searched the shadowed figures again, but none of them resembled him. How was it she could tell him apart from the others so easily? Even before she saw the scars that marked him in a way no other body could mimic, there was something unique about him, something that radiated from his silence and set him apart.
A woman’s scream pierced the night, sharp and sudden, then dissolved into something that might have been pleasure or terror or both. Daisy couldn’t tell the difference anymore. Wasn’t sure there was one.
She backed away from the glass. The balcony held nothing for her but nightmares made of flesh and terrible memories. What if he sent her back out there?
She pulled the door shut and turned the lock with trembling fingers, adding one more barrier between herself and the chaos below. For now, she was safe. And alone.
The bar gleamed in the firelight. Crystal decanters lined the surface, their contents glowing amber and gold. She approached slowly, lifting each stopper, sniffing carefully. Wine. Something clear burned her nostrils. And a half-empty one that looked favored more than all the rest.
She poured a finger into a heavy glass. The scent rose sharp and smoky. She took a tentative sip and sputtered. It tasted like burning leather and regret. She set the glass down with a grimace, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.
Her gaze drifted upward, catching on the brass bear mounted to the wall.
He’d touched it. Why?
Daisy stepped closer, her head tilting as she studied the fixture. Just a bear. Brass and without purpose. Just a decoration. Unless it wasn’t just a bear.
She turned, standing directly below it, and scanned the room with new eyes. She could see every corner and every doorway. She looked back at the bear, waving her hand in front of its eyes. When she turned again, she sucked in a breath and then rushed to the table where his phone sat abandoned.
She hurried across the room and snatched it up, her heart hammering against her ribs. The screen blazed to life at her touch, demanding a passcode she didn’t have.
“Damn it.” She tried his initials. R.A. again. Random numbers. The phone locked her out after three attempts, its screen going dark with engineered indifference.
She tossed it aside, frustration burning in her chest.
Then her gaze fell on the leather box.
It sat on the side table where he’d left it, the lid sealed snugly on top.
Daisy rummaged through the contents, searching for file 1922. When she found it, she yanked it free from the box and opened it on the table.
She recognized some pages from what she read at the doctor’s house. Cringed at his clinical notes in cramped handwriting, taking offense again to the terms she’d read before. Submissive tendencies. Virgin Level II. Low risk.
It felt like a lifetime ago, but it had only been yesterday. She flipped to the back of the file and found her essays.
Jack… J.T. Was he the one behind all of this?
Flipping another page, she stilled. Her government ID stared up at her with her full address. But that wasn’t all. Her mother’s death certificate. Details about family members she’d never mentioned, never shared, never offered to anyone.
How did they know? How could they possibly—
The next photograph stopped her heart.
Large and unflinchingly naked, her body filled the page. Arms at her sides, chin lifted, face captured in frozen mortification. The clinical lighting of the examination room rendered every flaw, every rib, every shadow in merciless detail. Daisy touched the locket hanging from her neck in the picture, her mind flooding with heartfelt apologies no one would ever hear.