Page 25 of Cruel Master
One of the benefits of having a hippy mum was the freedom to chase whatever weird ideas took my fancy as a kid. For reasons I can’t remember—probably the ancient Enid Blyton mysteries Mum read to me growing up—one obsession was Morse code. She joined in, and for a while, we had fun tapping messages to each other through walls.
It’s been a long time, but once I learn something, it tends to stick. I watch the repeating pattern of the light and gradually piece it together.
Stay strong. Help is coming.
Chapter Ten
Hadrian
Whenthedoorshutsbehind me, I fumble with the mask, panicking when my thumb fails to undo the catch right away. I press it again—same result. My heart picks up, chest constricting. I’m trapped in the mask. It won’t—
Sweat. My hands are clammy, and it’s interfering with the sensor. I hold my thumb on my cloak for a second, then try again. The catch clicks, and I pull the mask off, clutching it in a death grip as I gulp in air. I have to get better at this. If I fall to bits every time I leave Juliet’s prison, how will I cope once she’s with me full time?
In my room. My bed. Back where she always belonged.
I take off the heavy Saldar costume and hang it neatly outside Juliet’s door. As I dress in my jeans and Iron Man T-shirt, my mind starts to calm, slipping back into its usual orderly state. Something happens to me when I step through that door and become Saldar, and I can’t decide if it’s terrifying or wonderful.
I thought this would feel fake, like playing a role, but it doesn’t. It’s like stepping through a portal and becoming someone else. Someone savage. I hurt her. I forced her. I made her obey, and she loved it.
There’s no doubt in my mind that she loved every single second of it.
I’m drawn like a moth to the monitor. Juliet hasn’t moved, tucked neatly into her blanket, and her vitals show she’s already asleep. I have no idea how. But Juliet was always a solid sleeper—the exact opposite of me. Whenever we took a long flight together, I’d watch, envious, as she tucked herself against the window on take-off and woke when the wheels touched down.
Sometimes she’d drool in her sleep, and once, I took a photo. She squealed at me and made me delete it.
My heart gives its familiar, sad lurch at the memory. I missthatJuliet. Will I ever be able to laugh with her again? It doesn’t seem possible, not given the monster I have to become. The monster she’s already falling for, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
But I have her. That’s the main thing. I flick off the monitor and turn away. Now that Juliet knows about the provision chest, I can leave her alone for a while to stew. She has food, water, and a warm blanket, so I can give her time to miss me. Boredom and isolation are Juliet’s worst enemies. After a day by herself, she’ll be desperate for me to return.
The tricky part will be forcing myself to stay away.
It’s getting close to dinner time, but I’m far too wired to eat. Energy zips through my veins, and I need an outlet for it. The good thing is, thanks to my transformation, I have one. Before I started bulking up for my role as Saldar, I’d never set foot in a gym. I’m naturally skinny, and until a year ago, it never bothered me.
Now, though, I’ve come to enjoy working on my own body. Just like my creations, it’s something I can try to perfect. Staring at the walls in my apartment would be unbearable, so instead, I head to the fitness center.
Like everything else here, it’s overstocked with technology—ice baths, altitude training rooms, even a hyperbaric chamber. As a relative beginner, I haven’t felt the need to try anything too advanced yet. I mostly just use the weights.
The gym is mercifully empty, so I get to work. An hour later, my head feels a bit clearer. The madness I succumbed to in Juliet’s prison was understandable, but I can’t let myself get swept away like that again. This is too important to let random impulses take control.
I pull up Juliet’s feed on my phone before I hit the shower. No change—still fast asleep, and her vitals are healthy and strong. All I can see is her bright red hair tumbling out of the blanket. Back when we were in school together, some stupid girls used to make fun of her for her hair. I told her to draw ugly caricatures of them to cheer herself up, and she did. On the last day, we stuck them to their lockers.
I spent forever getting the shade right when I created Candice, but even then, it never quite lived up to Juliet’s beautiful hair.
I strip and get into the shower. The hot water hits my skin, and I picture Juliet washing herself with the freezing cold bucket. Once she’s allowed modern luxuries again, she’ll be grateful for them. The pleasant image of Juliet’s naked form entertains me through the shower.
Just as I’m about to turn off the water, all the lights cut out.
I freeze for a second, then fumble for the tap in the pitch black, stopping the flow of water. The power must have died. The emergency generator will kick in soon. It doesn’t, though, and after a moment of indecision, I feel for the towel.
The blackness is total. As dark as the inside of Juliet’s cell when I turn the lights out. An uneasy prickle runs up my spineas I find the shower lock and slide it open. She must have been petrified, trapped in the dark and chased by a monster.
Chased by me. Not some beast. Me.
I push the cubicle door open. Still pitch black. Shouldn’t there be emergency lights out here? What the hell is going on? I start to feel my way toward the exit, when a single point of light springs to life.
It’s tiny—maybe attached to a smoke alarm—not enough to pierce the darkness. But it flickers in a way that gives me pause, and I stop to watch it. There’s something deliberate about the way it pulses that draws me in.
A low, swooping sensation hits my stomach. Am I really seeing this? Or am I so tired and stressed that I’m jumping at shadows? It has to be a coincidence. Just my tired brain twisting a flickering light into something else.
