Page 105 of Entombed In Sin

Not that there would be anything for the police to find even if we did give them the exact location of Angel Eyes’ house.

“We burned down his house after they kicked us out of here the first day,” Thatcher had whispered into my ear as he laid onthe hospital bed with me. “Whatever he had on us is burnt to a crisp. Any evidence that you or Knox were there is gone.”

I took great comfort in that news.

When the police realized I couldn’t help them with their investigation, they decided to run the samples from the rape kit they’d collected from me. It proved just as fruitless. I can still see the befuddled look in the detective’s eyes as he stood at the end of my hospital bed yesterday when he’d returned with the results.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there must’ve been some sort of mix up at the lab.” His white mustache had twitched, just as perplexed apparently as the man sporting it. “It matched the DNA of a serial killer that died years ago. Clearly that’s not possible, so there must’ve been some sort of cross contamination.”

I couldn’t tell them that he had it right—that Chicago’s infamous serial killer had me in his clutches. That would’ve indicated I knew more than I was letting on. So, I kept my mouth shut.

I should feel at ease now that everything is over.

But I can’t. While no one questions me about my experience and I have one of the guys to keep me occupied during the day while the others tend to Bright Starr, at night Ronald and Shannon are there to haunt me. I hate how much they still affect me.

“Look at me, Little Viper,” Sagan demands in a deep growl that demands my obedience.

I peer up at him through my lashes, even as shame makes me want to just squeeze my eyes shut and curl into a ball.

“They can't touch you anymore.”

My knee-jerk reaction is to agree, so I let my head bob once before I mutter, “I know.”

Nervously, I reach up and play with the end of my braid. Knox had re-braided my hair before he left early this afternoon, which I appreciate since I know I’ve been looking a little rough.

“Do you?” Sagan’s skepticism is near impossible to detect. If I didn’t know him better, I wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

“I...” I hesitate a moment.

Sagan and Thatcher both know what happened. Knox had given them the details at some point. None of them have discussed what transpired in that basement around me during their visits, though. A part of me is relieved about that. Without speaking about it, I can pretend that nothing's changed. That what brought me here was simply an accident, and I'll be home where I'll be safe and sound soon enough. If we talk about it, about the horrible things I'd endured, that Knox had suffered through… It makes it too real.

Itwasall real, though. There’s no escaping that truth—whether we ever speak about it or not, that experience will live with me forever.

“I can still feel him, Sagan. In my dreams, he's as real as you are sitting there,” I admit, forcing myself to hold his intense gaze. “He's like an invisible hook that won't let me go. I know he's not really here, but it's hard to wrap my head around that reality when I canfeelhim.”

I squeeze my thighs shut, as if that could banish the sensation.

The smidgen of warmth in Sagan's eyes is blanketed, snuffed out by a cold breeze that I swear I feel wrapping around me. I shiver. Not in fear. In desolation. He doesn't want to hear this. Of my failure to be the vicious woman he’d taught me to be. I should’ve fought Angel Eyes harder and found a way to free me and Knox sooner. My heart shudders as I finally look away. I can't watch his detachment slide into place after my confession. Needing some comfort, I drag the stiff sheets up my body.

The sheet is abruptly ripped completely off of me. I watch in surprise as it flutters to the floor.

“Look. At.Me,” Sagan commands, his words bulleted.

I do. As my eyes land on his face, I’m surprised to find a hint of red climbing up his neck and into his cheeks. At his sides, his hands curl into tight balls. His anger is like dark, shadowy tentacles, reaching out and wrapping around the items in the room. Those tentacles find me, enveloping me until I feel like I’m being dragged toward the man who looks ready to murder. I can’t breathe when he looks at me like this. With fire in his eyes and the promise of death crackling around us—he’s painfully attractive.

“We’ve become cocky and complacent—a deadly combination in our line of work. I didn’t even realize it until it was too late. But how could I have seen those flaws in this mess? There were four of us versus one man. A man the world thought was dead. We were playing a game with aghost.” Sagan shakes his head. “We should’ve taken the subtle threats he sent us seriously.Ishould’ve taken them seriously. If I had, none of this would’ve happened.”

His lips snap shut. The tension in his body keeps him rigid and rooted to the spot. The flames from hell that this devil,mydevil, dragged up to this world with him from when he ascended to this plane, flare up in his gaze.

I frown, trying to understand. “Sagan, don’t tell me you think this was your fault? How could you have possibly?—”

“Did you not hear me?” he snaps. “I should’ve taken care of the threat to you and the others.”

“How would you have even gone about doing that?” I shake my head slowly. “The only reason you found us was because of that weird tracker in Knox’s butt.”

“Weird or not, don’t think you’re not getting one once you’re out of here.”

Despite the situation and the heavy topic of our conversation, I can’t help but giggle. “Can it not be in my butt?”

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