Page 116 of Irreversible

I’m pissed, but I’m not an idiot. I know better. And to be honest, it would kind of make her a shitty person if she didn’t choose him.

On the other hand,I’d stopped thinking of her as a stranger a while ago. I told her everything and sensed her acceptance. I fuckingcame back for this woman.

I couldn’t leave her, even though I knew I should, and she thanked me by practically tossing me into the incinerator herself.

I’m livid…and I know how utterly stupid that is.

I also knew none of us were ever going to be set free, no matter what choice she made, but still.

She sentenced me to death.

This is what I get for letting myself care about someone. I was so much better off when I cared about nothing.

This whole no-win situation is shit.

My chest heaves with more than labored breaths.

If the long stretch of silence is to be believed, Dolph has gone off to torment someone else—though I’m his obvious favorite—and I’m left to simmer for what could easily be a year, or two, or ten.

Maybe I’ll die here, tied to this chair.

Maybe I don’t care.

No, a nudge of conscience whispers.You still owe them.

And they owe me. They owe me for Sara’s life. And they will pay.

To keep my sanity, I allow myself to drift through daydreams ranging from impaling my captors on the cattle prod, to lockingthem in their own rooms and throwing away the key. Flirting with a dozen possibilities of ways to make them suffer.

But the mumble of distant voices hurtles me into the bleak reality. I open my eyes to the cloying darkness. I can’t see a damn thing, but I can hear them.

People. A group of them, from the sound of it.

“Thank you for being willing to meet at this hour.” The unfamiliar voice of an older man rumbles somewhere above, growing closer by the second. “Between me and the boys, our schedule is difficult to coordinate, as you can imagine. But we’ve been anxious to see this acquisition of yours in person for a long time.”

“Naturally, I’m at your service, day or night.”Thatvoice I know all too well. My fists clench, tingling from their awkward position behind my head. The mere reminder of the motherfucking Timekeeper makes my teeth grind, and he’s coming this way.

Footsteps thunder on the stairs.

“Of course, we’re happy to have him shipped to the location you’re planning to hold the expedition. For the price you’ve so generously offered, I’ll even have him gift-wrapped, if you like.” The hourglass-wielding psychopath panders to his clients like a pathetic kiss-ass.

My body tenses. I guess it’s that time.

“Delightful that you’ve made this a family affair,” he says. “I wasn’t aware you had more than one son.”

“Yes, Langford is my oldest from my first marriage.”

The billionaire, I assume.

“He spends most of his time managing my businesses in Asia, but since he shares the family affinity for big game, he made time to fly in for this occasion.”

Another man responds in a low voice I can’t make out. The air in the room changes as a handful of people crowd in. I feel them there, evaluating me from a safe distance.

Come a little closer, motherfuckers. Idareyou.

“Well, here he is.” Excitement practically oozes from the voice of my seller. It makes me wonder how much money he’s getting from this deal.

I stay quiet, assessing what I can from beneath the bag.

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