Page 77 of Snitches and Serpents

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, her brows furrowed. “To sell it?”

Frustration suddenly tears through my soul, and something snaps inside me. “Sell it?” A cold laugh rips from my lungs. “Is that what you think?”

“What else would it be?”

“I needed the equipment so that I could practice for the final exam!”

She jerks back in shock. “What?”

Raking a hand through my hair, I shake my head as years of pent-up pressure and exhaustion washes over me. “I had gotten a scholarship for the engineering program here, but I needed to keep up my grades. I needed an A in chemistry, and I was barely keeping it. All the other courses, I could study for with books in the library. But the final exam in that class was a practical lab experiment. Which I couldn’t practice for without the actual equipment.” Another humorless laugh rips from my chest. “So I stole a set of equipment so that I could use it to study.”

Her mouth is slightly open as she stares at me with wide eyes. “You… You stole it so that you could… study?”

“Yeah.”

“God, I didn’t… I didn’t realize…” Sorrow and empathy shine in her eyes as she looks at me. “Living like that, you must have felt so trapped.”

Pain stabs straight through my heart. It’s so intense that I think I actually flinch. How could she have known that? How could she possibly have known that that was how I felt? Not angry. Not sad. Trapped. She knows that I felt trapped. How is that even possible?

The emotions inside me turn into a twisting nest of pain and panic and anger. Letting out a harsh breath, I shake my head and stalk over to where the knife is lying on the floor next to the desk. After snatching it up, I shift both utensils into one hand and then turn to face Elle again.

“Yeah,” I reply, bitterness coating my voice. “And yet, you still decided to rat me out.”

She flinches. Then desperation washes over her features. “That’s not what I… I didn’t mean to…” A miserable breath escapes her as she looks at me with those big sad eyes. “When the police officers came to our school, they called me in because the teachers knew that I had been outside, waiting for my dad when it happened. So they asked me if I had seen anyone leave the science building around that time too. And well, I told them that I saw you. Because I did. I did see you.” Her expression turns pleading. “But I didn’t know that you… I didn’t realize why you had stolen them and…”

She trails off. Swallowing, she watches me as I walk over to the nightstand and grab the empty plate from it. I say nothing. It feels as if strangling vines twist inside my chest.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

The words are a stab right into my heart. Because I can tell that she means it. She isn’t saying that because she’s hoping that it will make me release her. She actually means it. She truly is sorry.

Anger crackles through me, drowning out the pain.

I don’t care if she’s sorry. She still ruined my life. One careless sentence from her destroyed my future. Nothing else matters.

Straightening, I turn to face her again. She looks absolutely miserable. It only makes me angrier. She has no right to feel miserable. I’m the one who’s miserable.

Gripping the plate and utensils hard, I level a merciless stare on her. And when I speak, my voice is cold and bitter.

“Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t change anything, sweetheart.”

27

ELLE

When he showed up with my breakfast the next morning, there was nothing left of that heartbreaking pain I saw in his eyes the day before. He was simply silent and indifferent as he handed me another sandwich and some fruit.

And then when he returned later to give me some lunch, he was back to his usual self. Smirking, trying to bait me, purposely doing things that make my heart skip a beat. As if our argument and the truths he shared with me yesterday never happened.

His switch from hot to cold to hot again is honestly starting to give me whiplash. But it did also give me an idea.

Since he apparently has no plans to let me go yet, I need to escape on my own. And to do that, I need the key to the manacle around my ankle. He no doubt has it in his pocket, so I need an opportunity to search through his clothes without him realizing it. Which means that I need him to take his clothes off.

Heat rushes through me at the thought, and a throbbing sensation starts between my legs.

I groan and thump my forehead against the mattress.

Jesus Christ. The guy literally kidnapped me and shackled me in his basement, and I’m still fantasizing about having sex with him. What on earth is wrong with me?

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