Page 79 of Ruthless God

I stare at my phone. I don’t think the person who watches me like they’re tracking me is Gabriel. I don’t even think it’s Claudius. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I think it’s Agnes.

Agnes isn’t just a housekeeper. She’s something more. Something darker.

A thought crosses my mind. I’m not just trapped in this house with Claudius. I’m trapped with her. And I have no idea who the real threat is anymore.

Why are the only people on the island women?

Because Claudius bought them.

Bought them? Like a prostitute?

Bought them at a trafficking sale.

My blood turns cold.

What?

Agnes is the one in charge of his purchases. It’s why they fear her, and why Claudius allows her so much free rein over the house.

Why does he buy women at trafficking sales?

Do I really have to spell it out for you?

My mouth is dry, and I feel sick.

Good night, mama. Sleep tight. And if I were you, I’d find something to use as a weapon.

I rush to the bathroom, feet stumbling over themselves as I barely make it to the toilet before my stomach heaves. The acid burns, my body betraying me as I clutch the cool porcelain, retching until there’s nothing left.

When it’s finally over, I slump forward, pressing my forehead against the toilet seat. The coolness is a relief, but it does nothing to stop the swirl of nausea, of fear, of realization.

What in the hell am I going to do?

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the answer to come, willing anything to make sense. But all I feel is trapped. By Claudius. By Agnes. By whatever the fuck is happening in this house.

And now? Now, I don’t just have to survive this.

I have to survive it for two.

17

Claudius

I grip the phone in my hand, watching the messages unfold in real time. Watching her on the security cameras at the same time…

I see Cecely in the hallway with Rose, the way she tilts her head, studies the girl like she knows something isn’t right. I see the casual, too-calm way she plays off being around Agnes. I see the way her face drains of color when Gabriel—or whoever the fuck he is—tells her about the trafficking.

And when she disappears into the bathroom, I don’t need cameras to know what happens next. She’s throwing up. It’s what any sane person would do.

I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders, processing. Because tonight? Tonight, I’ve learned a few things.

One, whoever is watching Cecely is good. Too good. He hacked my security system, keeping tabs on both her and Charles Blanc without leaving so much as a digital trace.

Two, Charles is still in danger.

Three, I have no choice. I’m going to have to do something I never wanted to. I’m going to have to exhume my brother’s body. Because until I see him…until I know for certain what’s buried beneath the earth…I won’t know if the man who’s taunting Cecely is Gabriel… Or a ghost wearing his face.

If I don’t figure it out soon, I won’t be able to keep Cecely safe. And that? That is unacceptable.

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