Page 191 of The Sinner's Bargain

I waited for the tears of frustration, even fear, but fury prickled my throat and loomed heavy in my chest as I met his gaze squarely.

“Then why? I liked you. Thoran adores you. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I realized something, Naya. No matter what, this will never end. Eventually, you would have found out and ... it’s better this way, isn’t it? I’ll make it quick and painless. Unlike the others. It’ll be humane. This will just put you to sleep, and I’ll put you back in your bed. Won’t that be nice? No pain. No suffering. Just peaceful rest. And it’ll be better this way for Thoran, too. He won’t blame himself. He’ll be sad, but you just passed in your sleep, and it’ll be easier for him.”

I stared at him for a long moment. Not believing my ears

“You’re going to kill me to keep me from finding out about your secret cave? I never would have gone into the tunnels, Oliver. I’m afraid of the dark. I have a phobia of small, tight places. You never would have seen me down here.”

He was silent. His head stayed down over the jars and the drops of clear liquid. He seemed to process what I was telling him with a deep V between his eyes.

“Well, that is unfortunate.” He raised his head, his expression truly regretful. “I wish I’d known sooner, Naya. But I don’t know if that would have made a difference even then. It seems to be an unfortunate fate I will continuously have to deal with.”

“You will devastate Thoran,” I warned, refusing to submit quietly. “If you take another woman from his life—”

He shook his head. “No, you’re wrong there. This will destroy him.” His large hands pressed into the wood on either side of the jars. “Your death will kill him. He loves you so much, he won’t bother going on.”

Hot, angry tears prickled the back of my throat and I had to dig my nails into the chair under me to keep from doing something wild and crazy like run at him and claw his sad, pathetic face to shreds with my nails.

“Why would you do that to him? Why would you hurt him like that?”

Oliver frowned and straightened. “I don’t want to do this, Naya. Do you think I like hurting people? Do you think I wanted to kill the only family I had left in this world? But every great person who has changed the world has had to make sacrifices. Being alone seems to be mine.”

“But you weren’t alone!” I exclaimed. “You had so many people who cared about you. I cared about you.”

His face softened. There were tears in his eyes as he lowered them to the jars. “You’re right.”

But rather than walk over and show me how to open the passage door, he returned to mixing and adding different liquids to each of the pots. He stirred and studied. So focused on his task that it gave me a chance to take a closer survey of my surroundings. The room was circular with built in shelves and an alcove in one of the corners with large, tin barrels tucked inside. The spot we’d come through resembled a plain wall with dark bricks and no visible ways of escape.

I glanced back at my captor who was swirling a concoction the color of urine up towards the filmy light.

“Oliver,” I kept my voice soft, helpless. “Can you please check on Thoran for me before ... before...?” I lower my gaze. “I just need to know he’s okay.”

He looked up. “Of course! I understand. Let me finish. I want to make sure you don’t get sick like Anne did. Her system didn’t like it, but that could have also been nerves.”

“What is that?” I asked, trying my best to play the role of someone soft and agreeable.

“It’s a sleeping drought I created. It stops the heart, so you just drift off. It took me years to perfect.”

Years? How long had he been doing this to other women?

“Can I ask what it is you’re trying to do? It all looks so complicated.”

Oliver chuckled. “It can be. I’ve always had a love of science and changing the world. Making it better.” He shot me a bright smile that usually made me smile back but only turned my stomach now. “Abby used to be my lab assistant as kids, and we’d create potions and serums that cured everything. We had so much fun and then our mom was diagnosed with stage four Esophageal cancer, and no one could do anything for her.” His smile slipped. “They gave her six months. She died in four. Mom was never very strong, but she tried. After her death all I wanted was to find a cure to save others. I went to school and studied, but my ideas were too radical. Too unhealthy, according to the board of medicine. But I know I can do it if I’m just given the chance.”

I let my attention drift to the wall of pickled things coated in dust and nestled in shadows. Something about them made my stomach whine. The whole room.

“Tell me about your work,” I whispered, not really wanting to know, but needing him to keep talking.

Oliver shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about that.” From a side drawer, he unearthed a syringe neatly wrapped in its sealed packaging. He tore the paper off and gingerly lowered the needle into the mixture. “We, sadly, don’t have much time left anyway. Thoran would have already dealt with Brixton, and he’ll come looking for you. You need to be in bed. We can’t let him get suspicious, okay? This needs to be as painless as possible for him.”

For someone so clearly unhinged, his workspace was immaculate. Not a pen out of place. Not a single weapon I could use to defend myself as the syringe was filled with the yellow toxin. I could use the chair, I mused. I could throw it at him, but then what? We’d only run around the room until he caught me because I didn’t know how to open the secret door. I could throw the jars off the wall at him, but he would eventually catch me.

Helpless and scared, I could only sit and watch as he flicked the poison and smiled triumphantly.

“Oliver, please,” I attempted one last time. “I’m begging you, please don’t.”

“I promise it’s painless. Just a little prick and you’ll just drift off.”

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