Page 25 of Beyond the Cottage

Jonas perked up. “Speaking of brothels. Have you gotten a read on the new pixie yet? Seven told me you’ve got her chained up in the southern block.”

Ansel tensed. Why the fuck was Jonas asking about Miss Hacker? Until now, he’d seemed to have forgotten she existed, and Ansel preferred to keep it that way. “What do you mean byread?”

“You know. Is she a live one? Game for a fu—”

Ansel had Jonas’s throat against the wall before the word completed. Protectiveness and rage flooded his system, drowning out rational thought.

Nobody touches her. No one goes near her butme!

“What the fuck, man?” Jonas gasped, grabbing Ansel’s arms.

Ansel blinked. Reason flooded in, leaving him unsure how he’d ended up on the other side of the room with his hands around his cousin’s neck.

He let go, wandering to his office chair. He sat and dropped his head in his hands.

Was this some new kind of psychosis? Or an extension of the one he’d been suffering since laying eyes on Miss Hacker?

Jonas massaged his neck, looking more stunned than offended. “Seriously, man. What the fuck?”

“I don’t know.” Ansel pinched the bridge of his nose. He could throttle his cousin anew for bringing Miss Hacker to him in the first place.

In a sack, no less. Dumped on the floor like trash.

Jonas’s grin returned. “Have you staked a claim on her? I’ll happily back off if you’re fucking her yourself.”

“I’mnotfucking her. Neither are you. You’re going to stay away from her entirely.” The words came out more aggressively than Ansel intended. He unclenched his hands and straightened papers on his desk.

“Hey, whatever you say. But she’s cute, cuz. You should go for it.”

Miss Hacker’s charms were irrelevant because neither of them wouldtouchher.

“Get the buckets,” Ansel said. “I want you back inside in half an hour.”

“Bullshit,” Jonas muttered on his way out.

Ansel retrieved a notepad and began scribbling a list of things to do. The facility had survived countless storms, but water always found a way in. It would also get loud and darker than usual.

A new image of Miss Hacker came to mind, this one of her sitting on the pallet, twirling her hair. What would he do with her when the storm came?

The southern block’s thick walls and narrow windows offered adequate protection from the elements, but leaving her to ride it out alone felt…wrong. Not simply from a moral perspective—where she was concerned, he’d long since left integrity in the dirt. Somehow, it felt wrong innately. Like he didn’t want her to beafraid.

Ansel cracked his pencil in half and tossed it on the pad.

The storm wouldn’t come until morning. He could figure out what to do with her later. He had plenty of other things to worry about, and Miss Hacker’s theoretical fear was at the very bottom of his list.

Chapter 10

“Miss Hacker?” Seven called into the cell. “Miss Hacker, is something wrong?”

Gretta curled tighter on the pallet and tucked her knees to her chest with a groan. “I feel sick. Food poisoning, I think.”

Seven set Gretta’s breakfast tray on the floor and peered into the cell. “Nobody else has complained of stomach problems. You’re eating the same food we do.”

“Maybe it’s malaria, then. This place is lousy with mosquitoes.” Gretta swiped hair off her forehead and rolled over. “I think I have a fever.” She squinted at Seven, unsure if she was rousing concern or suspicion.

“I’ll get the director.”

Gretta propped on an elbow and reached out. “No wait, Seven! Please don’t, I… He terrifies me. Yesterday, he said he was going to abandon me in the swamp to die.”

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