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“Go get some,” Gerda said.

Nicolas didn’t move. Maybe he was in a different world somewhere in his head.

Gerda cursed again. “Watch her,” she said, pushing her thumb on the fingerprint scanner of the door before disappearing down the hallway.

Kat jumped at the opportunity. “Nicolas,” she said softly.

At first, he didn’t react. When she repeated his name, he shook his head. “No talshking.”

She motioned at the vial with the serum. “You’re proud of this.”

A soft light twinkled in his good eye, but he said nothing.

“Please talk to me, Nicolas. I’m so lonely in here, all by myself.”

When she said lonely, his eyebrow twitched. Lonely triggered something in him.

“I’m very lonely,” she said, letting her emotion show. It wasn’t a lie, after all. “It’ll help me if you just talk to me a little.”

He shook his head. “Dadjy angryish.”

Daddy? Daddy was angry? Daddy would be angry?

“No one needs to know,” she said.

Nicolas glanced up at the cameras. She understood. They were always under surveillance. Gerda came back into the room with a box of syringes. She performed her task wordlessly. Nicolas wasn’t staring at Kat any longer. He was facing the corner of the room, twisting his fingers together. Had she screwed it all up? Was Nicolas even sane? And who was his daddy?

A month had passed, and Lann had seen all sorts of feeds of Katherine eating lunch, reading a book, and even walking in a garden. What had driven him to the point of insanity was the video clip of her sleeping. By now, he’d concluded, or rather hoped, there were no cameras in her room or bathroom, because he never saw her in that domain, or God forbid, in the privacy of her bathroom undressing. If anyone witnessed that, he’d kill that man. But the clip of her sleeping had been taken with a handheld recorder. Someone had gone into her room, at night, had invaded her privacy while she’d been fast asleep, and filmed her. It had been made to remind him of how vulnerable she was, and it worked. It was a clever message not to try and go after her. It said her wellbeing depended on her captors.

Whoever held Katherine captive, was mind-fucking him. The team was moving too slowly. Eve wasn’t near cracking the culture code.

Kat hadn’t seen Adam in two months, but she sometimes had the strange feeling he was watching her, maybe through the cameras. She suppressed the urge to gaze up at them. Pretending they didn’t exist wasn’t easy. She missed Lann so much she cried herself to sleep every night. In her head, she wrote him long letters, telling him of her and Thomas’s slow days and progress. At least she was resting. Margaret made her eat, even if she didn’t want to, and the guards took her outside for exercise every day. It only consisted of an hour-long walk in the garden, but by the time she got back inside, she was relieved. The heat and humidity were exhausting. She had to be in some tropical place.

It was during a walk outside that Adam appeared.

“Not happy to see me?” he asked.

He took her arm to continue the walk, but she pulled away. She was hoping she never had to lay eyes on him again.

“I haven’t abandoned you, you know,” he said with a casual air. “I have visited you a couple of times.”

“The cameras?” she asked, feeling anger despite her resolution to remain unaffected.

“Sometimes.” He gave her a piercing look. “Sometimes I come into your room while you’re sleeping.”

She stopped dead.

Satisfaction at her discomfort washed over his face. “I had to. I was making a film for your husband, you see.”

This time, the lance drove deep into her heart. She knew exactly how Lann would react. It would make him feel helpless, vulnerable.

“You bastard,” she bit out.

His hazel eyes filled with glee. “The only pity is that I couldn’t see his face when he watched it. He must be wondering what else is happening in your room at night.”

As he spoke, her abdomen contracted with a dull ache. A band tightened around her waist, the pressure pulling her muscles to one point in the region of her navel. It doubled her over, not so much with pain as discomfort. It lasted for several seconds, making it impossible to walk. She dragged in long breaths that did little to relax her body. Every muscle tightened like a string.

Adam took her arm to steady her. She tried to shake off his touch, but she didn’t have enough energy to fight both him and the contraction.

“Here,” he said. “Lean on me.”

Hating herself for it, she did. It was either leaning on him or falling to the ground on her knees. Perspiration beaded on her forehead. She was abstractly aware of Adam stroking her hair and making soothing sounds. By now, she couldn’t care what he was doing.


Tags: Charmaine Pauls Seven Forbidden Arts Fantasy