Page 33 of Hell Breaks Loose

Neither of us says another word as she helps me dress, does my hair and a hint of makeup.

I don’t bother looking at my appearance in the mirror as I walk past, out across the wing’s long hallway and down the steps. The formal dining room is on the far end of the house, closer to Marco’s quarters, his office.

“Deep breath,” I whisper right before I step into the ballroom-like space.

Seeing him sitting there at the far end of the table is more of a shock to my system than I thought it would be. Not crippling. Not world-shattering.

He was right the other night.

He broke that out of me. Now, it’s just a dull, buzzing hum of apprehension in my bones.

Like a presence watching over my shoulder, keeping me poised. Tense.

“Hellena. You look well.”

“I’m fine.”

“So said the doctor. I regret the steps we had to take to get here.”

Does he, now?

I bow my head just a bit as I cross to my chair, placed at the opposite end of the long table. At least I won’t have to sit beside him.

“We are here, though. I’m ready to… behave.” The words hurt coming out.

“It will all be for the best in the long run. You are a strong woman, Hellena. I needed to hone you, sculpt you into the woman you need to be to rule at my side. To cut away those foolish feelings you held so tightly. They only hold you back.”

“I agree.”

In a way. It feels easier than ever to imagine biding my time, now. Until I have a chance, whether tomorrow or in five years, to end his life.

“Then we are of an understanding? What a relief. Now you may indulge yourself a bit, if you like. We have time before we make another move, to plan, to rest. I have business down south to attend to the next few days. I trust you will take advantage of that time to pamper yourself.”

“Thank you. I was thinking I might do more than that, though.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“I want to learn more about your operation. Your plans for Sanctum. While I am resolved to joining you, I still care about the people there.”

“Of course you do. And I would be a fool to try and keep you from assisting them. All in due course. For now, do not worry yourself with those things.”

The finality in his tone tells me to drop it for now.

Dinner is served, along with wine, bread. Several courses, all spread out between us. It’s a feast.

Marco waits until we’ve had a chance to take a few bites, to sip the dark red the butler poured us. It’s decadent. Perfectly prepared.

Marco always had a taste for elegance.

“What do you think?”

“Spectacular.”

“You used to throw a fit when you were little if there wasn’t macaroni with every meal,” he comments, smiling like we’re actually family. Like the memories aren’t fucking horrible.

Maybe they weren’t for him.

“Well, I’ll never turn down a good bowl of mac and cheese. But this wine is phenomenal.”

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