Lib Novel Page 48
I didn’t want her to see this.
Didn’t want her watching when I could barely watch myself.
I stopped looking at her to protect her, but I couldn’t bear to see how she looked at me in return.
Did she see a broken man who’d failed her?
A worthless beast who couldn’t save her?
I’d never forgive myself for bringing her here, but I’d never forgive her for making me this weak.
If I didn’t love her, I would’ve been free by now.
He would’ve killed me because no way in hell would I have submitted.
It was comical really. The hardest lesson I’d ever learned, and it wasn’t Victor teaching me but Ily: be careful what you wish for.
I’d longed for love and devotion my entire life.
I’d believed such gifts would free me from the black filth inside me.
Yet the opposite was true.
Love fed me to the darkness, and devotion kept me shackled.
I became nothing more than this thing kneeling at Victor’s feet.
I hated him.
I despised him.
Yet when he fed me morsels from his own plate, I was grateful.
Fucking grateful.
Those nights, I threw up.
I purged the meagre contents in my stomach and slipped into yet more nightmares where I woke up screaming.
But the next day, the sun would rise, the guards would come, and hell would demand another piece of me.
* * * * *
“Stand on the stage, Henri.”
Hauling myself to my feet, I stepped onto the podium and waited for a guard to strap me to the pole like usual.
Only…no one came.
Crates appeared, carried in by long-suffering staff. Crates I’d seen before.
I stiffened as Victor smirked. “Friends…please, help yourselves.” Marching to the nearest crate, he pulled out a familiar paintball gun. Cocking it, he faced me squarely and grinned. “You’re not bound. You can run if you want.”
I flinched and looked around the ballroom. My gaze landed on Ben and Stewart. They’d flown back in this weekend and hadn’t touched their dinner. Ben gave me a horrified look, and Stewart looked green.
At least they had the decency to care about my downfall.
At least they hadn’t been caught up in it.