Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
The only reason I’m not freaked out about being led to the cellar among some of the Van der Horns is Damen’s presence at my side. I’ve never experienced such trust for another person before, and it’s especially strange given how short our time together has been, but it’s been so intense. From the night we met, we were rarely apart, even to the point that I don’t miss my phone because the man I’d want to message is at my side anyway. Damen sometimes shows me photos of Whiskers with our mafioso cat sitter, who dresses my pet in a new hat every day.
As soon as we go down the stairs and I meet the stern gaze of Damen’s great-great grandfather, all thoughts of Whiskers are forgotten and I’m thrust into a reality where “Jingle Bells” is no longer playing in the background, and the scent of cold concrete persists instead of pine and cinnamon.
I now regret stuffing myself full of various delicacies, because the anxiety is making me nauseated.
Damen leans toward me and squeezes my hand. “I’m here. Sorry Dad’s making you come see the prisoners again, but he claims it’s necessary.” I can guess Damen’s opinion about that from his voice.
But I’m also aware how much he wants to take part in this hunt, how long he’s waited, so if a tour of the cellars is a step I need to take to make that happen, so be it.
Yesterday, we never reached the end of the corridor, since I’ve seen enough of this prison to understand its contents. Today though, we go all the way in this silent procession including only one woman—Alexandra, Damen’s sister. I’m guessing it’s because she takes part in the hunt and is involved in the illicit family dealings.
At the very end, Karl leads us into a tiled room, which reminds me of the well of death I fell into in the maze, but it’s much bigger. I hate everything about it. With everyone walking in, it becomes claustrophobic. I feel surrounded, and I swear the people gathered are stealing glances at me, which makes some sense. I’m the new person here. The fresh initiate who might start freaking out over nothing.
It takes me a moment to realize that this space is some kind of shower room, which makes me wonder how long the prisoners are kept in the basement to need showers, but I’m not about to ask.
Karl turns to me, making my heart rise to my throat. “Pick a number between one and eight.”
Damen groans and puts both hands on my shoulders, standing behind me. “Dad. What is this about?”
Karl’s gaze moves from me to his son. It’s unnerving how much they resemble each other, though on the other hand I can anticipate that my man will be hot late into his life too. “It’s time to find out whether you made the right choice of husband. If he is to be a part of this family, if he is to know all our deepest secrets, he needs to prove his loyalty. So, Killian. A number between one and eight.”
“S-six?” I clear my throat, intent on not stuttering next time he asks me about something.
Karl gestures at Titus. “Bring number six.”
Damen’s fingers clench on my shoulders, and I get the sense that nothing good will be happening in this room. But I can’t prove those people right by being a weak coward unworthy of my husband.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Damen asks through gritted teeth. “He’s not the one taking part in the hunt.”
“But if he is to become part of this family, to bear the weight of what it means to be a Van der Horn man, he needs to commit!” When Karl pulls out a gun, I recoil and hate myself a little when Titus sniggers behind me.
He’s dragging in a man in jeans and a ripped T-shirt. He must be one of the prisoners I didn’t get to see. And I chose him. A random number. I won’t be deluding myself by looking for alternative explanations for this. I already know that I’ve marked this man for death.
All that keeps me going is the belief that the prisoners all did terrible things before ending up here.
“You’re telling me Bree did this too? And Victor?” Damen sneers and points to his brother as Titus hauls the man to his knees in the middle of the room. His brown gaze skitters over every person surrounding him but while he doesn’t even try to run, his eyes beg me for mercy.
Karl stretches his shoulders. “Bree did not. She’s a woman, and not my daughter at that,” he gives Alexandra a gentle nod, as if that’s supposed to justify the sexism of the ritual to come. “So Bree will never carry all the Van der Horn secrets. But Victor? Yes, he did. I would not allow a man who can’t kill when it’s necessary to father my grandchildren.”