Page 77 of Emperor of Lust

I’m not worried about him tattling to the authorities. I’ve checked with my sources, and while the policewereat the hospital earlier to talk with him about the attack after he woke up, Prescott was smart enough to say he thought it was a random attack by a stranger.

That, or someone smarter than him had the good sense to gently let him know who exactly I am and suggest that might be a wise response.

I adjust the mask over my nose and mouth, squirming uncomfortably in the one-size-too-small hospital scrubs I stole from the employee locker room. Nobody pays me any attention as I slip through the halls of the hospital until I get to Prescott’s room.

It’s unguarded. Maybe he’snotso smart after all.

I slip inside the dim room, locking the door before I turn to level a cold glare at the man lying in the hospital bed. He’s asleep, the machines he’s hooked up to beeping and whirring rhythmically as I approach. I turn off the sensor connected to the main nurses’ station.

No need for us to be interrupted when his heart rate inevitably goes through the roof.

The table beside his bed is full of bouquets of flowers and cards: some from his coworkers at Edo Analytics, some from his family back home in the U.S. There’s also a framed picture of him with some girl that appears to be his girlfriend.

I take a picture of it, glancing at the card next to it to see that her name is Sarah.Sarahwill soon be hearing from me, suggesting that she ask her boyfriend about the night he watched and laughed while his buddy tried to rape a girl.

Should make for interesting date-night conversation.

I grab Prescott’s phone from the table, bring it to his face, and pry open one of his eyes to unlock it. The fucker stirs but doesn’t wake.

The phone does, though.

I flip through his recent calls, and my mouth tightens. Yeah, just as I thought. There’s one earlier today, probably right after he came out of his coma, to Edward Radcliffe.

Theothermotherfucker who watched that night: rats, clinging to each other as the ship goes down.

I move closer to the bed, my fingers tightening into fists as I lean over him. Prescott stirs again, and this time his eyes flutter open. His gaze slowly comes into focus, and when he sees me leaning over him, he jolts with a startled whimper, the confusion in his gaze giving way to pure terror. His mouth starts to open, but my hand clamps it shut and keeps it like that as his eyes bulge.

“Hush now,” I murmur, sick satisfaction rolling through me. “This won’t take long.”

Prescott’s face turns the color of rotten milk, his eyes wide and horrified.

“I’m going to ask you a question. Then I’m going to release your jaw so that you can answer. If you scream, call out, or otherwise bullshit me, I’ll kill youlongbefore any help arrives. Nod if you fucking understand.”

He nods emphatically.

“Good boy,” I growl, leveling my gaze at him. “Did you send Hana an iPad the other day?”

I lift my hand away from his mouth.

Prescott’s brow furrows, then he quickly shakes his head. “No!” he blurts. “No, I?—”

“One with thevideoone of you little fucking ghouls took of her that night, when your dead pal Josh tried to rape her with his limp whiskey dick?”

Prescott shakes his head again. “No. I swear to you?—”

My hand clamps down over his mouth. “Next question. Who all knows about that night? Be specific, and don’t youdarefucking lie.”

He gulps as my hand comes away again.

“There…there was me?—”

“No fucking shit,” I growl.

He shrivels under my gaze. “And…and Josh. And Edward.”

“Who you called earlier.”

He swallows heavily, his throat working. “Yeah, just to check in and?—”

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