The Camp (Chateau 2)

“Where did you hear that?”

“Does it matter?”

I drank from my scotch.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but Raven doesn’t hold a candle to Stasia, so I have to ask…what’s wrong with your dick?”

Nothing. It’d never been better. “I don’t think Melanie is as remarkable as you claim.”

He grinned slightly, like he didn’t believe me.

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

He ate again. “I don’t think prisoners go to fancy parties.”

“Melanie would be happy to see her.”

He gave a slight nod. “True.”

I could go alone, but I’d rather bring her along, give her a chance to talk to Melanie.

“Do whatever you want.”

I looked into my glass before I took a drink and listened to him finish his dinner. I waited until he was completely done, full and comfortable, before I said something I wouldn’t have dared to say before. “I will pay for Raven…if you let her go.”

He was about to grab his drink, but my words made him pull back his hand, made him sit forward with his hands together between his thighs. He stared me down with that stony face, like a slab of concrete that didn’t have a story to tell. “No.”

“I will pay you whatever you want—”

“No.”

“She would still be a prisoner, but she would be my prisoner. When I’m here, she’ll stay in my home until I return.”

He rubbed his palms together as he studied me. “What part of no don’t you understand?”

I kept my anger in check so my previous gratitude wouldn’t be forgotten. He had already done more for me than he should. He should have killed me for releasing Raven in the first place, but he didn’t. He should have denied my request to take her with me every time I left the camp, but he didn’t. He should have let Alix do whatever he wanted and continued on his way…but he didn’t.

“I can’t let her go, Magnus. Not after what she did. I’ve been lenient with her because she pleases you, but her freedom is something I will never allow. Her punishment is to work in this camp until she dies. She must fulfill her debt. You said you don’t want the guards to see special treatment, but if I let her go—after she killed their comrades—that would be the biggest display of special treatment ever seen. And more importantly, I don’t want to let her leave. I want her to serve her punishment for what she did to me. She wormed her way into my brother’s bed and turned him soft. Not only did she spite my authority by leaving, but she had the nerve to come back and burn this place…this place that I built with my bare hands. If she wanted to be free, she shouldn’t have returned. But she did return, and now she’ll never leave. She made her decision—she has to live with it.”

The door was on the ground because Alix had chopped it down with a fucking ax.

There were holes from the blade where he’d chopped it free, shards of wood protruding. I couldn’t return it to the hinges because it would serve no purpose. When I looked through the open doorway, I saw her sitting on the bed, still in my shirt, her knees to her chest and her eyes still afraid.

I stepped inside and approached the bed.

The second she looked at me, her expression changed, like she’d never been so happy to see me.

I moved to the bed beside her and leaned against the wall.

She moved into my side and cuddled close, her arm curving around my neck so she could bury her face in my shoulder.

My arm circled her waist, and I brought her close to me, holding her against me, my chin on top of her head, feeling her chest rise and fall from the deep breaths she took. I could feel the tremors of her body, feel the invisible scars that added another layer over her heart. “It’s over,” I whispered. “And it’ll never happen again.”

She nodded against my body like she believed me. “What did they do to you?” She knew the only reason I hadn’t been there to save her was because something had held me back…and that unflinching faith meant the world to me.

“Three guys held me down in the cabin. All I could do was lie there and listen to you scream.” It was the first time I’d felt raw fear since I was young. The last time was when I sprinted down the wet sidewalk while gunshots rang out into the night. But this was a different level of pain, listening to someone you cared about suffer like that…scream your name for rescue.

“God…” She pulled away and looked into my face, her eyes heavy and watery. Her fingers cupped my face, comforting me as if I’d suffered the way she had suffered. Her fingers brushed over the coarse hair of my stubble, her eyes on mine, like she could read my feelings so easily. “I’m sorry.”