Page 72 of Cruel Master
Hadrian barks, “We have to go.”
Ophelia snaps her mouth shut at Hadrian’s sharp tone, and Sebastian slides his hand onto her knee in what looks like a comforting way.
“Don’t worry, pet. I’m sure you’ll get to know her soon.” He gets to his feet and nods to Hadrian. “If you need anything, give Gabriel or me a call. Maybe not Jacob right now.”
Pain flits across Hadrian’s face, brief but unmistakable. “I know. I appreciate it.”
He tugs on my hand. Whatever the fuck “the gate” is, I’m about to see it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hadrian
Iunderestimatedhowdifficultthis would be. Safely tucked away in Juliet’s cell, I can be as cold and Saldar-like as I need to be. Out here, though, in daylight, it feels like there’s a big flashing light saying “FRAUD” right above my head, and Juliet is going to see right through me.
And I should have considered how Juliet’s appearance would affect people who knew Candice. Sebastian and Ophelia did well to cover their shock, but they didn’t manage it completely. All I can hope is that Juliet was still too dazed by leaving the cell to notice.
Bumping into Sebastian and Ophelia was a stroke of luck. She’d been on the verge of making a run for it until she saw Ophelia. I could tell by the way she watched the couple with the dog. She’ll run, of course—all Wards do at least once—but I didn’t want it to happen right away. It will be better if she sees some of the Compound before I have to take her back to her cell.
I set a slow pace, giving her plenty of time to take in the scenery as we head along the main street. Her eyes are saucers, head swiveling left and right as she takes everything in.
I keep up a steady commentary, pointing out the buildings just to keep my nerves at bay. She follows along quietly until we reach the coffee shop. Then she stops dead. “No. This can’t…” She turns her face up to mine, then back to the shop, watching two middle-aged women laughing at a spindly table.
“They can’t be…sex slaves. Look at them.”
I do. It’s strange, but not as strange as it seemed when I first entered the Compound. Once I learned what I had to do to pass my initiation, I started researching the psychology of captivity. Humans, it turns out, can make for happy prisoners as long as Maslow’s hierarchy of needs are fulfilled.
Wards have five-star accommodation, excellent food, a wide range of activities, and opportunities for friendships, growth, and employment. Learning what I have about people, it no longer surprises me to see Wards making the best of things.
It’s a conversation I’ll enjoy having with Juliet one day. But for now, she needs clear, calm instruction.
“They’re happy. You will be too. You need an owner, doll. You’ll never be truly happy without one. Look at the risks you were taking.”
Her lips tighten, and she turns away, but she doesn’t deny it. Is it just that she’s afraid to argue? Or has she accepted the truth? I start walking again, leading her toward the forest. I’m taking her the scenic route to the gate.
We pass out of the populated part of the Compound, heading toward the outer edge. Neat paving stones give way to bare concrete and then to packed earth. Some Brothers, like Jacob, leave the Compound a lot, but I rarely do. My work is allhere, and one painfully awkward Thanksgiving dinner a year is enough time with my family, thanks very much.
It’s been over six months since I set foot outside the Compound. If I’m not careful, I’ll forget how to behave on the outside and get arrested for something stupid like walking out of a shop without paying.
We walk through the forest. Juliet hasn’t seen anything green in weeks, and her chest rises and falls as she takes in deep lungfuls of the fresh air. She always did love nature and would drag me out into it whenever she got the chance. She even managed to get me into a tent a couple of times a year.
We’d toast marshmallows, drink warm beer, then go to bed, where I’d complain endlessly about the bugs and the lumpy mattress. The only way she could shut me up was with a kiss. Does she still enjoy camping, or has she come to love comfort more as she’s gotten older? I can’t wait to spend a night with her in a real bed.
Woah. Hold up. Baby steps.
The trees press in, branches so close together overhead that it feels like dusk. I pause as we reach a split in the path. Left or right? Shit. I stare between the two, and beside me, Juliet lets out a giggle.
I stare at her, and she stifles the sound with her free hand, looking as shocked as I feel. I wish she hadn’t. I haven’t heard her laugh in such a long time. I grasp at the edges of my tough persona, willing it not to slip. It would be so easy to smile down at her. To try and make her laugh again.
Instead, I raise a brow. “Something funny?”
She looks away, focusing on the trees ahead, but shoots me a sly glance, and for a second, it’s like we’re just us again, on some hike she pushed me into doing. “No. Nothing. I just hope thisplace has a good search-and-rescue team if we’re relying on your sense of direction to get us out of these woods.”
I have no idea how to respond. I should punish her for disrespect. Shouldn’t I? But biting her head off for a joke seems petulant and pathetic. She watches me expectantly, and I keep my face blank as I flounder internally.
Fuck it. Becoming Juliet’s master doesn’t mean I have to turn into a miserable prick who can’t take a joke. “Don’t worry. I have their number saved.”
She smiles at me, just a quick flicker, but it’s the first one I’ve seen. God, I’ve missed it. I choose the left fork at random. If this walk takes longer than it should, that’s fine with me.
