Page 37 of Slaughter

I open the door to step out of the office but jump back when I run into a man dressed in a black and white three-piece suit. He smiles at me kindly. “Hello, Miss Clarke.”

My eyes widen. “Marvin. You have to help me,” I say in a rush. His smile falls.

“I’m sorry, Miss Clarke, but I cannot …”

My hands ball into fists. “I’m not here because I want to be,” I snap.

“That is not my concern,” he says, unaffected by my anger. “I work for Mr. Decker, and he has instructed me to make sure you are taken care of. Now would you like something to eat?”

I stare up at him wide-eyed. I’ve known this man all my life. He worked for the Decker’s long before I can remember. His brown hair has now turned gray and his skin has wrinkled, but he still has those kind brown eyes. I open my mouth to tell him I’d rather starve, but a man pushes his way through the office door.

“She’ll have dinner up in her room.”

I glare at the man. He’s the same one that I stabbed with a fork only hours ago. God, that seems like so long ago. My stay here is going to be like prison time—long.

“I said I’m not hungry.” I glare at him.

“You’ll either eat it on your own, or I will force-feed you,” he declares and then spins around and walks out of the room.

Marvin nods his head once. “Very well. I will have your dinner served to you up in your room.” Then he, too, turns and walks away, leaving me alone with the bottle of scotch.

I let out a huff and storm up to my room. Slamming the door shut, I plop down on the bed and tip the bottle back. If I have to be here, I’ll drink my dinner.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AVERY

I ENTER THE HOUSE AND head straight to my study. It’s where I spend most of my time if I’m not in the cellar or at the warehouse my brother Tristan and I own.

“Sir—” Marvin calls out the moment I walk through the front door.

“Not now.” I interrupt whatever he was about to say and make my way down the long hall. Entering my study, I slam the door behind me.

I sit down on my chair and lean back, running a hand down my unshaven face. It’s been a long fucking day. And night. But that’s nothing new. I’ve never been one who gets much sleep. Even as a kid, I never slept. Too many noises. Screams.

The door opens, and Marvin enters. “I said not now.”

He closes the door, ignoring me, and places his hands behind his back. “Miss Clarke did not eat her dinner.”

“Then she’ll starve,” I snap

He nods. “Very well.” He gives me his back and walks toward the door but pauses. “It’s none of my business, sir, but I don’t think you brought her here to die.”

I glare up at him. “You’re right. It’s none of your business.”

I reach over and put my password into my computer. Pulling up my security cameras, I look in on her in her room. She lies on her left side, her back facing the camera. The covers pulled up to her neck as if they can save her from the monsters. From me.

My cell rings in the quiet study, and I answer when I see it’s Tristan. “Hello?”

“We have movement at her house,” he informs me.

“Perfect.”

“And I’ve followed up with the local hospitals in New York. Preston hasn’t checked in at any.”

“He won’t.” I sit back in my seat. “He’ll seek treatment under the radar. Too many enemies looking for him to be out in the open.”

“What do we do?”

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