She grasped the ring and worried it between her fingers. “They wouldn’t let me put it in my car and come back without it.” Anger swelled in her voice. “They said I was trying to bring in contraband, and I could try my visit again next month. The guard wouldn’t even let me tell you what happened, the asshole.”
A different kind of pressure built inside me as I recalled the memory. Violent and dark. I’d waited for hours, worried something had happened when she hadn’t arrived for the visit. I’d had no way to contact her or Royce. No way to know if she’d been involved in a car accident on the drive down, or simply forgotten her promised visit. All my freedoms had been taken away, and the powerless sensation was the cruelest form of torture during my two years of incarceration.
“You knew, though?” she asked, relief streaking across her expression.
“One of the guards told me eventually.”
He’d bragged about it, hoping to provoke a rise out of me. Every person in the Norfolk prison thought they knew how much I was worth, and the guards often enjoyed flexing their power or reminding me of my lack of status while I was incarcerated.
What they didn’t understand was the amount of patience I was used to exercising. My situation was temporary, my time under their rule finite. I was built to outlast because my focus never wavered from the finish line.
But the woman in front of me was no longer my goal. She never should have been in the first place.
Marist subtly pulled her chin down to her chest. It was her ‘tell’ that she was considering something. Thoughts were weighed inside her mind, and it was obvious when she’d made her decision.
“How about we play now?” she asked. “If I win, Lucifer gets to stay.”
Satisfaction rolled through me at her offer. I thoroughly enjoyed playing chess, and winning, and it was even better when stakes were involved. We’d played nearly a hundred matches together, and by my count, Marist had bested me only five times.
This would be easy.
I didn’t give her an answer with words because it was unnecessary. She knew well enough I’d accept, and she followed me into the library where the mythology chess set I’d had commissioned for her was on display.
Also on display was the black cat, coiled in a ball on the back of the leather reading chair beside the fireplace. A patch of sunlight from the window lit the creature like a spotlight, but otherwise the room was dark. The animal didn’t lift its head when we entered the room, but its vivid green eyes opened and peered at us like we were intruding in its dominion.
Perhaps that was what bothered me so about the cat. It exuded an air of superiority, as if it tolerated my presence and it wasn’t the other way around. This was my house, and I was its master. Yes, one could argue it was just a simple animal and elitism was the general culture of cats, but this particular one seemed smart. Cunning. As if it had personally judged me and found me unworthy.
I turned on the lamp on the desk, making light spill across the spines of the books my family had been collecting for a century, and watched as Marist strolled to the chair. She set her fingertips on the top of the cat’s head and ran them down along its back, causing the animal to stretch out its legs in contentment.
Bare patches of skin dotted the cat’s usually glossy black fur, and I didn’t care for the way that looked. Even if the thing was irritating, I could recognize it had been a beautiful creature. This version of it made a foreign sensation creep through me. Dissatisfaction?
It grew worse as Marist continued petting the animal and gazed down at it with a smile tilting on her lips. It was a look she’d never given me. One that spoke about how much she loved the animal.
She’d brought it to my house hoping to ease its distress, willing to put its happiness above her own. When was the last time I’d done that?
Not since Julia died.
My wife’s sudden death had taught me how fleeting life could be, and I realized I was in charge of my own happiness. Whatever I wanted, I’d reach for it, and take it by force if necessary. But my ambition had come with side effects and collateral damage.
It was time to reevaluate my goals.
I strode to the side table, retrieved the chess set, and carried it to the desk, depositing it there with a quiet thud while Marist continued to dote on her pet. The cat’s purr swelled when she scratched its cheek, and I convinced myself the sound was irritating and not at all pleasing.