Page 194 of Brutal Prince

Indi

Soot-covered stairs creak alarmingly under my shoes. This is all too surreal, like a nightmare I can’t wake up from; the feel of late-afternoon sun on my arms as I’m forced up the stairs of the house I’d lived in for years; the sound of birds, too loud now that the roof’s caved in.

How many times have I skinned my knees on these steps as a kid while rushing to get upstairs? Now I’m moving through molasses, every cell in my body protesting.

But what am I supposed to do? There’s a gun trained on me — Marcus follows us up the stairs like a predator stalking prey — and I’d break an ankle trying to jump off.

A maimed girl is a dead girl.

Look what happened to Addy.

I realize Briar was trying to protect me earlier, but he shouldn’t have bothered. Addy’s body is off to one side, in clear view as we head up to the landing.

After I caught sight of her, I nearly threw up. Now I’m keeping my eyes straight ahead.

Not daring to look. Not daring to disobey.

If I’m a good girl, maybe he’ll let me go.

If I behave, maybe he’ll drop his guard long enough for me or Briar to overpower him.

Chances are slim, but it’s all I have.

So up the stairs I go, one foot at a time. By the time I reach the landing, I’m numb with dread anticipation.

There’s a gaping doorway ahead.

My room. It’s still standing. It’s the only thing still standing up here. Some of the wall against the hall has fallen in, but the other three are still there. Blackened, cracked, but still there. Roof’s caved in, but there’s even a window frame left, a few shards of glass poking out of that wood like teeth.

It’s the mattress on the floor, however, that makes me stare.

It’s not mine. Mine was a twin. This one’s gotta be a queen. And it’s completely untouched by the fire, except for a few streaks of soot.

Brand new and bare.

“See?” Marcus says.

I jolt and hurry forward a step, my skin crawling with the realization that he’d been close enough to whisper in my ear.

“Look how nice it looks.”

* * *

“Just take the money,”Briar says. We’re standing a few feet apart facing Marcus, who’s taking up the doorway to my old room.

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Quit it about the money, already. I told you. I found my calling.” He steps inside the room and heads for my dresser. It’s pitch black, one leg eaten away by the fire. Marcus takes a phone from his pocket, plays around with it for a second, and then puts it on the slanting surface.

Facing us.

No — facing the mattress.

“Undress her.”

Briar shakes his head. Lifts his hands. “I can get more money. Tons more. Just tell me how much—”

“Get her naked!” Marcus yells.

I jerk, my hands closing instinctively into fists. Briar’s jaw bunches, but he turns and does as he’s told.

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