Cold sweat ran down Edmund’s back long after Saint and his men had left. He sat reminiscing on the whole situation, his mind racking itself trying to figure out how to get his daughter out of the marriage he’d signed himself into, an engagement he’d agreed to only because he was terrified the black-haired man knew something terrible he’d done.
He closed his eyes and drained the second bottle of wine on his table, tapping his leg furiously against the marble floor.
He drowned another glass that burned down his throat, though his stomach had long stopped welcoming the excess, he still couldn’t bring himself to stop. This was his only way of numbing himself. Getting drunk.
Before he could sink further into his own spiral, his phone rang. His fingers shook faintly around the glass as he stared at the screen, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He straightened up quickly, clearing the lump that had formed in his throat, not from drinking, but from fear.
"Dr. Hawthorne." A clipped, professional voice spoke on the other end. "We need an update on Project Meridian. It’s been two weeks since you last got back to us. My bosses would like to know how the project is proceeding."
Edmund pressed his palm against his forehead, as though it might drive out the pounding headache he’d started getting from too much drinking and overthinking. "This isn’t the best time for this kind of discussion. What if I get back to you next week?"
"It rarely is, Dr. Hawthorne. The board doesn’t have the kind of time you seem to think it does. If you’re working with twenty-four hours, the board has ten. They want movement on the new strain. We’re behind schedule, not because we want to be, but because you’ve been making us lag behind. And your daughter’s engagement is another problem we’re still deciding whether to deal with, but for now it isn’t our concern, since not many people know what she possesses."
Edmund’s jaw tightened at how casually the caller said it. This was his only daughter they were talking about. He should have felt some sliver of sympathy for her, but instead it was spoken like Aurora being taken from her own home and forced into a marriage she never consented to was nothing more than a footnote in a budget report.
"She’s not just my daughter. In case you’ve forgotten, we both know what’s inside her. Let’s stop acting like this doesn’t matter..."
"If things eventually go south, we adjust. That’s business. We want results before the end of this month, not excuses. You know the consequences of delaying the board." The caller cut him off and hung up immediately.
The call ended before Edmund could argue further. He set the phone down slowly, staring at the dark screen that had just displayed the unknown number. For two weeks now he’d been doing everything he could to keep the board off his back, but they had eyes on him, eyes that seemed to think he was behind his own daughter’s disappearance, as if he were simply finishing what he’d helped them start.
Taking a short, deep breath, he began to understand something he hadn’t fully accepted in all his years as a scientist. He had always been a tool. He still was. And tools came with an expiration date.
Inside the dark room, Aurora curled into herself, pressing her body against the wall as if she could disappear into it. The heat she’d once felt had dissolved into a shrill cold. She jumped the moment she felt a prickling sensation against her foot, certain it was a rodent, and scrambled toward the door, accidentally hitting the light switch. A dim light flickered on, illuminating only half the space she stood in. Just as she reached the door, the lock clicked, and it slowly pushed open. Aurora rushed back to the spot she’d been too afraid to sit in.
Saint stepped inside, two guards trailing behind him. Aurora’s heart dropped somewhere she didn’t know existed inside her, panic flaring instantly as she shifted backward, putting whatever distance she could between them. Her eyes stayed fixed on Saint, who was slowly wrapping a chain around his palm.
"Meet me in my room," he muttered, turning and walking out with the guards following.
He left her sitting there, mouth slightly parted in confusion. For more than five minutes she stayed frozen, trying to process what had just happened.
"His room," she repeated to herself, her hand finding the hem of her gown and picking at it until the fabric loosened.
Aurora stood, staring at the door that was only twenty steps away, though it felt like a mile from where she stood. She wrapped her arms around herself and walked slowly toward it.
She knocked once before stepping inside. Saint sat at the edge of the bed with his laptop open, but the moment she entered, he shut it and pushed it beneath the pillow.
Her eyes wandered the room, taking in a masculine scent unlike the mint she’d been catching all day, something closer to lemon mixed with chocolate. The bed alone looked twice the size of the one in her own room, big enough to hold five people comfortably and still leave space for three more. She’d grown up in luxury, her father being among the ten richest scientists in the world, but even she wasn’t used to something quite this extravagant. The glass wall, the entire room washed in shades of blue. Unaware that Saint was already watching her, she remained near the door, still taking in the size of the space.
Saint tapped his lap. "Are you going to stand there until tomorrow morning?" he asked, raising a brow.
Aurora’s cheeks flushed red as she stepped fully into the room, pushing the door shut behind her without moving any closer. Fear of what he might want from her in this room flared the moment she heard that low, husky baritone of his.
"Jules is safe," he announced, and the breath Aurora had been holding released all at once, surprising even her.
She nodded, murmuring a quiet thank you, eyes fixed on the floor.
"But your punishment." Saint paused, and she could feel his eyes boring into the top of her head. "You’re going to be Alyssa’s personal babysitter, and mine. You’ll do whatever I ask without a second thought."
Absorbing the idea of becoming his servant was terrible, but Aurora didn’t have a choice. She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded slowly.
As humiliating as it sounded, some small, sharp part of her recognized the sliver of freedom that might come with it, though nothing was guaranteed. If she was going to be trapped in this house regardless, at least this version of her cage came with open doors instead of locked ones.
"Get me a drink," he ordered, his voice sliding back into that commanding edge.
Aurora forced a smile and hurried out of the room before he could change the terms of her punishment. She made her way down the stairs to the kitchen, her bare feet silent against the cold floor, the house empty, the staff already retired for the night. Her eyes lingered on the spot where Jules had been chained earlier, relief washing over her when she found the couch empty.
"That’s where they chained her." She whispered to herself, pulling a glass from the cabinet and pouring a drink of water.
Aurora carried it back upstairs carefully, both hands wrapped around the glass like it might slip from nerves alone. When she reached the door, she nudged it open with her elbow. He was still sitting exactly where she’d left him, and he lifted his head slowly. His eyes looked a little red and puffy, like he was on the edge of exhaustion, though nothing about his expression suggested illness.
"Here." She held it out to him.
He took it without a word, without even glancing at her, and drank.
Aurora stood there, unsure whether she was meant to stay or go, watching him swallow like nothing unusual had happened since she’d walked in.
Then his hand jerked. The glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor, the water splattering across the sheets and the tiles.
He doubled over, one hand slamming into the mattress to catch himself as his whole body convulsed. A deep, violent cough tore through his throat, hard enough that his shoulders shook with it, his face flushing red.
Aurora froze, unable to move, her mind struggling to catch up with what she was seeing until he coughed again and blood splattered across his palm.
"Saint!" Aurora screamed, panic climbing up her throat as she stepped closer despite every instinct telling her to run.
He couldn’t answer. Another cough ripped through his throat, dark blood mixing with red as more of it hit the sheets beneath him. His eyes, when they found hers, were wide with something she’d never seen in him before. Fear.
Aurora’s hands trembled at her sides as she stared at the blood soaking into the bed, the space between them transformed in the span of seconds into something entirely different from what it had been only moments earlier.
She had brought him that drink.
And now he was coughing up blood in front of her, and she had no idea if anyone in this house would believe she hadn’t meant for this to happen.