Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3) - Page 53

But Midas shakes his head, and I tear my eyes away from the pin to look at him. “No. Digby.”

My free-falling mind slams to a stop. Dots of black appear in my vision like a starless sky ready to swallow me whole. I physically stumble back, barely catching myself on the bedside table as my knees threaten to give out.

“Digby?” It’s a whisper, a plea, a bewildered breath. “What...I don’t...I don’t understand.”

Something glimmers behind the depths of his muddied eyes. “I have him, Auren.”

The gut-wrenching gasp that rips out of my chest leaves my heart to gape out in the open. My lip quivers, ribs squeeze, fingers dig into the table to keep myself standing. “What are you talking about?”

He’s cool and calm again. Calculated. Just that look alone fills me with dread.

“It was meant to be a gift, you see.”

I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment, my head shaking as I try to comprehend through the shock. “Wait, wait. Are you...are you saying Digby is alive? He’s here?”

“Like I said, he was going to be a gift for your return. I knew you were fond of the old man. Although, he had to be punished, of course.”

Digby. Alive. He’s actually alive? I can’t—

“Wait,” I rush to say, shaking my head. “What the hell do you mean punished?”

Midas shoots me an annoyed look at my curse word. “He allowed the Red Raids to capture you, and then subsequently, Fourth’s army. I couldn’t let that go unanswered.”

Horror crashes over me like a sudden flood to knock me into its violent path. “He’s alive and you’ve kept that from me this whole time? You’ve punished him?”

His eyes flicker knowingly. “He didn’t do what he was ordered to.”

My teeth gnash against the double meaning. The threat. That I’ll be punished if I don’t follow his orders too.

I cross my arms in front of me. “I want to see him.”

Midas clicks his tongue. “Therein lies the problem. I was going to let you do just that, but in your current state of mind and overemotional hysterics, I simply can’t allow it.”

Can’t allow it?

Fire flares in my chest and sears through my eyes. “Let me see him. Right. Now.”

The dark warning in his face sharpens against an edge of satisfaction. “When you improve your behavior and your mood, I will.”

My lips pull back in a sneer. “You son of a bitch.”

Again, with his clicking tongue, a sweep of reprimand like I’m a child to be disciplined. “That’s certainly not the way to go about it, Auren.”

Hot tears fill my eyes, but I hold them back. “You’re lying. You don’t have him.”

Midas looks at me with pity. “I do. But even if you think I’m lying, are you really willing to bet his life on it?”

I go still, like a fierce gale that suddenly died. Sucked away until every particle of air is depraved with stagnancy.

“Don’t you dare hurt him.”

Midas gives a shrug. “That’s entirely up to you.” He grips my hand and drops the pin into my palm.

I stare down at it and see it for what it is. His best bargaining chip to make me complacent. How can something so small feel so damn heavy?

When a tear drips into my cupped palm, Midas’s eyes soften. That gesture probably would’ve fooled me before, would’ve made me doubt myself and had my emotions braided with confusion and heartache.

But the eyes of liars are tricky things. They can show you what you want to see without ever reflecting the truth. It’s best not to look a liar in the eye. They’re so good at their own compulsions that their gazes hold steady, and then you’re the one who loses sight.

Tags: Raven Kennedy The Plated Prisoner Fantasy
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