Page 28 of Brutal King

“What are you hiding in there, Mr. Black? Dead bodies?” I scan everything within sight—the huge antique desk and the files neatly stacked on top of it, the wall of shelves containing books and sculptures, and the cabinets lining another wall.

There’s a huge fireplace too. Above it, a portrait of a man, but it’s too dark to fully make out. Except for his eyes. They seem to glow eerily and I swear they’re focused on me.

The already cold temperature in the room seems to plummet farther.

“Who is that?” I ask Winter as he slides between my feet. “Creepy.”

The painting might give me a sense of foreboding, but it won’t deter me. I’ll be back. Once I have gathered more information, this will be the first place I hit. I bet I could find a lot of incriminating evidence to take to the police on my way out. I’d hand it over to Luca of course. God forbid there might be stuff on him in there too and I unwittingly send him to jail.

A few more turns down narrow hallways, I come to the kitchen. It’s old, like the rest of the house, with cement floors and white subway tile on the walls. Pots, pans and dried herbs hang from thick rafters, and butcher block tables serve as counters. A deep white farmhouse sink is set against one wall, and a modern eight-burner gas stove and open shelf pantry on another.

Winter makes a strange chittering sound, and rushes off through an open doorway.

“Where are you going?!” I whisper-yell. I follow him to a narrow stairwell that spirals both upward and downward, the kind that would have been used at some point by staff. “Winter!”

I’m not going in there. Not tonight anyway. He’ll find his way back to me, I’m sure.

My stomach rumbles and burns, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Of their own accord, my feet move toward the stand-alone fridge set in a corner. I open it and discover that it’s not just well stocked, but a plate has been left covered in plastic wrap. A white post-it is attached to it that reads,Eat Me, in neat writing.

He knew. That monster knew I’d come down.

I slam the door shut.

Acid creeps up my esophagus. I grab an apple from the pantry shelves and rearrange the remaining ones so it doesn’t appear it’s missing. I’ll eat; my mission is to find a way out, not to die here. But I won’t eat anything he’s offering.

That’s when something in my peripheral catches my attention. The glint of steel sticking out of a knife block.

My lips pull up as I reach for a paring knife and tuck it into my back pocket. It’s little, but I bet it can make someone bleed just the same as any other.

With one last glance out the window that confirms there isn’t anything different on this side of the house, I head back to my cage.

7

GIDEON

The stables at Kingsbrook Manor had stood empty for as long as we’d lived here, except for the stray cats that called it home. I begged my father for a horse, assuring him I’d take care of it myself.

“When we have pets, we have something else to care for,” he said for years. “We cannot afford the distraction.”

“It would keep me company while you’re gone.” I begged him to the point of annoyance, and still, he refused. Until all of a sudden, he had a change of heart.

On my fifteenth birthday, he asked me to follow him outside. When we reached the stables, he extended his hand toward the pen. “Look at what I got.”

I stared at the magnificent mare that circled the enclosure, neighing and tossing her head from side to side, her mane cascading down her back. My hands twitched as I imagined the feel of it through my fingers.

She was black as night and powerfully built, the biggest horse I’d ever seen.

“She’s beautiful,” I said. “Where did you get her?”

He turned his face from me and watched her. “She belonged to an acquaintance.”

I knew better than to question him further. He’d given me a gift I longed for, and he could just as easily take it away.

“Can I ride her?”

“I don’t know. Can you?” was his reply.

“Yes.” I jumped over the wooden fence and made my way to her, confident in my determination.

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