Page 27 of Descent

“Do what you need to do. Just…”

Use him.

Do the job. Means to an end. Cliché, blah blah.

Rushing out of my room in the upstairs wing of the manor house, I hurry down the steps. Through the ballroom, I find the sliding panel, press the code. A loud thunk announces the security door opening to my left. Stone steps from a time when this house was as much a fortress as it was a home vanish down into the cold modern fluorescence of a tunnel.

Guards nod me along, taking a few turns once I reach the first level of the catacombs. I only occasionally meet with Ananke down here in her conference room. Thank the goddesses. The whole place feels like a tomb.

My steps echo down the last hallway, the holding cells. As far as I know, there’s never been anyone in any of them as long as I have known Ananke, but ghosts still linger, an oppressive aura that leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

But the only ghost haunting these halls is his. Or maybe he just haunts me.

“Ero?”

The shadow huddled in the corner of the cell doesn’t look up as I approach the window in the door. Somehow, I know he’sawake. If not, the buzz and clunk of the door unlocking is too loud to sleep through.

I stand there for a few moments, struggling to find words.

“Are you…real?” His voice sounds groggy, disconnected. “I keep dreaming about you. The way your body moved when we fought. When we danced at our wedding. Always dreams, someone else’s dreams. It’s a trap. And I always fall right into it.”

“This wasn’t a trap. Ananke wanted to speak to you, and I just needed to?—”

“I’m not talking about this cell, or your boss. I’m talking about you.”

My spine tightens, my mouth going dry.

A gleam of his onyx eyes glints in the dim of the hall lights cutting into the gloom. Images of a caged panther rake my mind, hinting of shame and fear, primal aggression. And I am alone in this cage with him, no chains or cuffs to prevent him from attacking me.

Still, I take a step forward, then another. Crouching down, I tilt my head, lowering my gaze to meet his as he watches me move. Only a tiny flinch in his cheeks shows me his pain. His desperation.

My hand is on his cheek before I can stop myself. The edge of my thumb grazes along the soft skin beside his eye, down across week-old stubble. My assessment drifts, taking in his appearance, his well-being. They must have cleaned him up before they put him in here last night. He’s showered. His clothes are clean. And not his.

Still, he makes the simple linen pants and shirt look fantastic.

Foolish girl.

Stuffing down the longing in my chest, I settle into a calm mask. I can’t let my desire for comfort get in the way of my orders.

“Are you ready to get out of here?” I keep my tone soft, smooth, even.

“And go where? The cage out there is just bigger,” he half growls, half whispers.

“Rules and purpose aren’t cages, Ero. They are protections against the things wrong with us. They give us direction and keep people like us from causing chaos.”

“Sounds like a quote from Ananke’s self-help seminar. You’re a pawn, Circe. A tool.”

“And if I am? At least I have something to live for. What do you have?”

“My anger … my pain. They’re mine.”

“What good has that done you? You can’t seem to give up. You won’t stop fighting. At least fight for something worthwhile.”

Don’t beg. Stay firm. He’ll break.

“Why don’t you justmakeme? Like she did.” He’s fishing, his eyes uncertain. But he hit the nail on the head. I just can’t show a hint of surprise or nervousness.

Ananke employs…unorthodox methods. I’ve seen things, mostly odd behaviors from her guards, her staff. She knows how to get into people’s heads.

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