Page 28 of Cinder
“Then start fucking acting like you do.”
He raises his hand to strike me again, but his mother’s voice stops him. “No man wants to pay for a bride with another man’s bruises all over her skin, son.”
Through the stinging pain, I see Carolina appear from the shadows. She’s dressed in elegant evening wear and holds a long cigarette holder in her gloved hand. She walks over to us, her heavily made-up eyes sweeping over me with cruel delight. But she doesn’t smile. Her ruby-red lips remain thin and unmoving until she takes a deep breath of smoke and then slowly blows it in my direction, her cold eyes still very much on me. She hates me probably more than she hated my father. Because I am the result of his love for the woman he loved more than her.
“Let him make his own marks on her flesh. Let him bruise her with his own fists or whatever instrument he chooses.” She turns to her son. “Don’t damage the goods.”
Luca is tempted to hit me again, but he realizes Carolina is right and drops his hand.
He kneels down until he is eye level and in a very dangerous, low voice says, “You have until the morning to tell me how you are going to get that fucking recipe, do you understand me?”
I taste blood in my mouth, and it takes all I have not to spit it in his face.
But one day, I’ll make him bleed, and I won’t stop until he is dead.
I sitin my dark bedroom and stare into the shadows and wait until I know the coast is clear.
I know what I am going to do. I’m going to use the secret passageways to sneak out of the house, and once I’m clear of the property, I’m going to call a cab using the burner phone Santo gave me. Then I’ll sneak into the clubhouse. I don’t doubt the party will still be in full swing because the Knights of St. Boniface parties are legendary and can go on for days.
It’s just before two a.m. when I leave my room via the passageway and follow it down to the ground level. The house is quiet except when I near my father’s den, I hear muffled voices. The door is ajar, and as I get closer, I hear my brother’s distinctive voice. “That’s it. Suck it like you fucking mean it.” Through the ajar door, I see a man on his knees in front of him, his head bobbing back and forward as Luca pushes a hand through his hair. I don’t recognize him. But he’s young and in a suit.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen my brother with someone. Both men and women. The more people to dominate the better.
“I said suck it harder,” he growls, twisting the man’s hair and thrusting his cock in and out of his mouth. “Fuck my cock with your filthy fucking mouth, you cocksucker.”
Feeling the bile rise in the back of my throat, I move on quickly. It’s good he’s preoccupied. Because it will make it easier to sneak away.
Outside, it’s cooler and my skin tingles with goosebumps and anticipation. I know where all the CCTV cameras are, and where the guards are positioned, but every step has to be precise so I don’t trigger the sensor lights because the only way I’m leaving this property tonight is if I stay in the shadows and get to the part of the fence where some of the brickwork has fallen away. Nobody knows about it because it is hidden by creeping vines and the hedges that line the lawns.
But I know about it. Because I know every inch of these grounds.
I take the same route I plan to take with Lucretia when it is time to flee. When I’ve found the money I need for us to escape.
Pausing in the shadows, I wait for the cameras to move in the opposite direction, then I bolt across the lawn to the perimeter fence.
Once I’m outside the tall walls, I’ll run to the end of thestreet, then along another until I’m in the park where I’ll call a cab.
Yes, my escape from my prison is as easy as a cab ride. But it’s not really an escape at all. Because I am still tethered to my fate by invisible chains.
One day soon, I’ll get Lucretia and I away from our violent and vicious half-brother.
But until then, my hands are tied, and I am at his mercy.
CHAPTER 13
Lars
“So what you’retelling me is there is absolutely no trace of her online?” I stare at Bram, our tech wizard, in complete disbelief.
We’re in the security room at the front of the clubhouse. In here, it’s pretty high tech, with rows and rows of monitors live streaming from all the cameras set up around the property.
Beside him, Gambit, our head of security, sits with his arms crossed, constantly monitoring the screens. In a few minutes, the prospect will relieve his post so Gambit can go back to the party.
Bram’s fingers fly over the keyboard in front of him as he talks. “Using the CCTV footage we have of her, I ran itagainst our face recognition software but couldn’t find one thing about her online. No social media. No articles. No nothing.”
“Well she’s not a fucking ghost.”
“According to the internet she is,” Bram says.
