“She failed, she dies,” Emmanuel said, his eyes cold like he had no soul. “Kill her.”
“I can't,” Grace sobbed.
“Then I will kill you.”
“No, please, don’t make me.” She had fought so long to stay alive, to win his games, to survive, but she couldn’t take another woman’s life. Especially not one who had fallen victim to the same monster she had.
“Kill her,” Emmanuel screamed.
She should kill him.
But if she did that, she was signing her own death warrant. The metal cuff around her ankle was attached to a chain that was attached to a metal hook embedded in the concrete floor. She had no way out unless Emmanuel got the key from the other room and let her go. If she killed him, she killed herself and the other woman anyway.
“Kill her, do it now, or I’ll kill you. Do it, kill her. Kill her!”
Sobbing, Grace closed her eyes, unable to look at the woman she was about to murder. She pressed the barrel of the gun against the woman’s head and pulled the trigger. She was crying so hard she felt like she was going to shatter into a million pieces.
What had she done?
“Grace!”
“Grace!”
“Grace, wake up. Now.”
The voice was commanding. It allowed no room for anything other than obedience, and somehow, her body managed to yank itself from the dream.
Blinking open heavy eyes, Grace found herself tangled in the sheets. She was on her knees, Matthew was in front of her on the mattress, also on his knees, his hands gripping her shoulders with a near bruising force.
“You back with me?” he asked, smoothing away a curl that was stuck to her wet cheek.
“Yeah,” she assured him in a shaky voice, wanting to wipe away the worry in his eyes. But really that was a lie. How could she ever be okay again after the things she had done? It had been a long time since she’d dreamed about her rape, it was just a couple of months later that she’d been abducted and by then she had other things to worry about, like fighting to stay alive.
Why had she dreamed about it tonight?
Was it because of how her body responded to Matthew’s? Because her subconscious knew it wasn’t a matter of if, only of when that the two of them made love?
Or was it her mind trying to tell her something she didn't know she knew?
Why had the dream of her rape been followed by one of Emmanuel and his sick games and determination to control her?
It definitely wasn’t uncommon for her to dream about the sick, twisted games he’d forced her to play. Or even of him making her kill those other women. But why had she dreamed about all of it tonight?
There was something she was missing, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. It was something important thought, maybe even the key to finding Emmanuel, so she had to figure out what she didn't know that she knew.
“You’re shaking.” Matthew touched the back of his hand to her forehead. “And freezing. Come here, sweetheart.”
Snagging the blanket, she’d shoved aside when she’d gone to bed because she was too hot—because of the warm night and her body’s physical attraction to Matthew and burning need for his touch—and wrapped it around her. Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the armchair in the corner of the room by the window.
“Can you open the window?” she asked after he’d sat and settled her on his lap.
“It’s cooled down outside and you're already cold.”
“Please, Matthew, I just need the fresh air. I feel like I'm suffocating,” she admitted, a slight whimper escaping despite her efforts to hold it in.
“All right, baby.” Balancing her on one knee, he leaned over and shoved the window open then curled his arms around her and snuggled her close against his chest.
As the soft breeze washed over her, Grace felt herself begin to calm, the fear and horror of the nightmare fading. Helping bring Emmanuel down wasn’t enough, there weren’t enough good deeds in the world for her to make up for the deeds she regretted with every fiber of her being.