by Stella Hart
I frowned. “Who the hell are those guys? And why would their wives want to be here while they’re pregnant?”
“They’re Crown and Dagger members, of course. You don’t remember them? Old friends of mine. Glenn is an investment banker from New York, and Ron works in the oil industry.”
“Never heard of them,” I replied. They probably didn’t even exist.
“Well, there’s over six hundred men in the society. A hundred in the third level alone. I suppose you can’t remember every single name, can you?” He chuckled in what I imagined was meant to be a lighthearted manner. Instead, it sounded forced and fake.
“So why are their wives here?” I repeated. I wasn’t going to let him evade my main question that easily.
“One of the doctors we have here used to be a maternal-fetal medicine specialist at Mount Sinai in New York. He was a great one, too. We offered to pay more than the hospital ever could, though, so he quit that job and chose us. But he still sees pregnant women on occasion. Glenn and Ron want the best for their wives and babies, and they also enjoy being here at the Lodge, so they brought them here for the remainder of their pregnancies.”
Even over the phone, I could tell he was lying through his teeth. The too-long pauses, the overly-smooth tone, even the way he told me such specific details.
I once read that was the easiest way to spot a liar. A person telling the truth tended to glaze over most details or skip them entirely, thinking it wasn’t relevant. But a liar… they wanted their story to seem as genuine as possible, so they’d overcompensate and invent all sorts of random detail, thinking it would add more realism.
“I see,” I said, trying not to let my anger seep into my voice. “That explains that, then. Anyway, gotta go.”
I stared at the wall for a moment, trying to figure out my next move. Then I remembered the file my father once showed me. Tatum’s contract. He kept copies of the girls’ contracts in every office he owned, which meant there should be one in his office here too.
Obviously, the contract had to be fake, but if I could get a look at it and compare Tatum’s supposed signature to her real handwriting, I’d have solid evidence that she never signed it. Then, if I showed her that, she wouldn’t be able to deny it anymore. She’d have to believe that I was on her side. She’d have to let me help her.
I called Brett next. “Hey, man. How’s your break going?” I listened to him drone on about his vacation for thirty seconds or so, and then I finally cut to the chase. “Listen, I want to know something. When the island flooded, did the underground cells flood too?”
“Yeah, they all did.”
Damn. I thought they did, but I was hoping I was wrong.
“Was anything rescued from them?” I asked, a tense note in my voice.
“You mean apart from the girls?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, apart from them. I’m looking for a notebook that was in Tatum’s cell.”
The notebook in question was filled with her handwriting from when I’d forced her to write lines. It was the best thing I could think of to compare with the contract signature.
“No. Pretty sure everything down there was destroyed,” Brett said.
Fuck.
“Thanks anyway. Gotta go.” I hung up and dropped my phone in my pocket, my forehead creasing in a frown.
My eyes fell on the writing nook in the corner of Tatum’s walk-in closet, and my spirits lifted again. I’d given her pens and notebooks to write in when she first arrived here. I just had to hope she’d actually written something. Even just one sentence.
I went through every single book. They were all empty except one. She hadn’t written much inside it—a few pages about the Lodge and her room, and what appeared to be a couple of short stories—but it was more than enough.
I marched out of her suite and headed to my father’s study on the fifth floor. A regular keycard wouldn’t allow entry to the room, but fortunately, I knew the code for the door. He’d always trusted me way too much with shit like that. It was part of his attempt to make sure I knew I was his only hope for the future. The only one who could carry on his name, as he said so often.
It was a shame he never trusted me with the truth about anything else, though. Then I could’ve figured out what a piece of shit he was years ago.
I punched in the keypad code and strode over to his filing cabinet. As I expected, there was a copy of Tatum’s contract in the ‘M’ section. I flicked through it, searching for a page with a signature. Finally, I located one.
My stomach dropped as ice crept through my blood.
There was no fucking way she wrote this. Even though most people’s signatures were different to their regular handwriting, I could still tell this was a forgery. The general slant of the text, the style of the ‘a’ and even the height of the letters made it clear. Tatum’s writing was straighter and shorter, and the way she wrote the lowercase ‘a’ was more like the typographic style than the natural oval-with-a-flick style in this supposed signature.
I didn’t need to be some sort of forensic handwriting analyst to know I was right about this. This fucking contract was a fake, and Tatum never signed a damn thing.
My father must’ve had the bogus paperwork created just in case I ever asked to see any proof that she sold herself to the society. Or in case I ever asked why she acted out so much, upon which he could point me to the bullshit clause where she was supposed to fight me.
As always, he’d tried to remain a step ahead, predicting my every move. My every question. But not this time. I was a step ahead of him now, and I wouldn’t stop until I exposed all his secrets. Wouldn’t stop until I had enough dirt to bury him and all his sick friends.
Of course, that meant I had to find out what the rest of his secrets actually were first. They were no doubt held in the trust of Crown and Dagger’s third level, so for that, I’d have to wait. Luckily, it was just two and a half more weeks until I found out whether I made it or not.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I looked behind me to see my father standing at the office door, his eyes narrowed. Shit.
I cleared my throat. I had to act natural. Like there was a valid reason for me being here, rooting around in his documents.
“Oh, hey,” I said casually, standing up. I held out the contract as if I had absolutely no issue with him seeing that I had it. “I was looking for this.”
“Why?” he said sharply.
“Because I’m sick of all this shit with Tatum’s attitude. I wanted to show this to her to remind her that she belongs here. That she fucking chose this and signed her rights away for as long as her master chooses to keep her. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into her.”
“I see.” His shoulders visibly relaxed. “So your plan to make her fall for you isn’t exactly working, then?”
I scoffed. “This little attempt of hers to leave was just a minor setback. I think she was pissed at something I said the other night, and she wanted my attention. But the more I get to know her and her little quirks, the easier it’ll become to manipulate her. It might be a while until she really starts to fall for it, but I’m patient.”
God, I was so full of shit. I guess I inherited my ability to make stuff up on the spot from him.
He grunted. “You’d have to be patient, to put up with her,” he said, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “Showing her the contract to remind her of her place is a good idea, though. Take it with you. I have plenty of copies in my other studies.”
“Yeah, I figured. Otherwise I would’ve asked you before coming in here to grab it.”
“Indeed.” His eyes fell on the notebook in my other hand. “And what’s that?”
I pasted on a cold smile and held it out to him. If I tried to hide it or brush it aside in any way, he’d be suspicious. I couldn’t have that. Not yet. For now, until I knew exactly what the fuck was going on here, I had to act like I was on his side with nothing to hide.
“I got Tatum this note
book to write in when we first arrived here, as a reward for good behavior. But after this latest bullshit performance of hers, I confiscated it. She doesn’t get it back until she starts behaving herself again.” I paused, then let out a callous snort. “You should look at it. On one of the pages, she’s written several paragraphs about what sort of dresses there are in her closet. That’s it. So fucking vapid and airheaded. No idea how she ever got into Roden.”
I kept holding the book out, waiting for him to call my bluff and read it, but he sniffed and ignored it instead. “Really goes to show you what happens in the minds of women, doesn’t it? It’s all clothes, makeup, and how to manipulate men.”
I snorted again. “No shit.”
He smiled, but I noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. Had any of his smiles ever done that?
Looking back, I couldn’t think of one single time he appeared to be genuinely happy or satisfied, though I never thought anything of it until now. Never realized what a relentless sociopath he was, even though the signs were always there in front of me, bright and red and flashing like a neon light.
He cleared his throat. “I have some calls to make. I’ll meet you for dinner at the restaurant on the east wing terrace at eight?”
“Sure.”
I gave him a big fake smile of my own and strode out of the study. My heart pounded the whole way back down to the second floor, and with each step I took, my outrage grew.
When I stepped into Tatum’s room, she was still asleep. I shook her awake, and she grumbled and rubbed her eyes. “What is it?”
“This.” I held the contract in her face. “We need to talk.”
17
Tatum
“We need to talk.”
Elias was in my face again, holding out a sheaf of papers. “What’s that?” I mumbled.
“Sit up and read it.”
He waited patiently for me to collect myself. I took the document and leafed through it, my pulse doubling with each page. It was a contract detailing my sale to Crown and Dagger with my express permission.
I, Tatum Marris, of sound body and mind, relinquish my rights and agency to Crown and Dagger. I do so for an indefinite period at the discretion of the Crown and Dagger member who takes responsibility for me. I understand, agree with, and accept the terms laid out in sections 1, 2, 3, and 4 of this contract, including any sub-clauses.
That paragraph followed several pages of terms and conditions. Underneath it, with a blue-black flourish, was my signature. Except it wasn’t really mine.
I dropped the contract. The sight of it, the sheer evilness of it, made me feel nauseated. My stomach suddenly contracted so violently that I wasn’t sure I’d have time to make it to the bathroom, and I practically flew off the bed and through the door. I got there with seconds to spare and heaved my guts up in the toilet. The acid stench of vomit filled my nostrils, and I surveyed the mess with watery eyes as I continued to heave.
Elias wordlessly handed me a glass of water and a capful of mouthwash. I mumbled a ‘thank you’ and headed back to my bedroom.
I wasn’t sure why he showed me the contract. To make me feel bad? More of his sick games? I sat back on the bed, my stomach churning as I waited for him to say something.
“What do you think of that?” he said, glancing at the contract. “Real or fake?”
I gritted my teeth. So it was simply more of his wicked game. He wanted me to tell the truth—that it was a fake contract—just so he could lift my hopes up before crushing them all over again.
Nope. Not playing today, Elias.
“It’s the contract I signed,” I lied.
“Then why did you throw up at the sight of it?” His eyes narrowed.
I didn’t miss a beat. “I feel sick because I’ve caught some sort of chill. I’m sure you remember that I spent last night in a freezing forest.”
“Yes. Your hiking trip gone wrong, or whatever it was you claimed. Just a mistake.” He pressed his lips into a thin line.
“I never said that.”
“You never said the truth either, which is that you were trying to run because you’re a captive here.”
I glared at him. Why was he still trying this crap with me? Surely I already made it clear earlier that I wouldn’t fall for any more of his trickery.
“I told you before, I’m not a captive.” My eyes fell on the contract. “I mean, look. It’s all there in those pages. I sold myself here. That’s my signature.”
He leaned in close, one hand going to my shoulder. “I don’t think it is. It’s not your writing,” he said firmly. “I know you’re too scared to tell me right now, and I get that. But you don’t belong here.”
I shook him off, incensed. I was so sick of this bullshit. “So you’re going to pretend you never wanted me as a captive?” I hissed. “You’re going to pretend you never hated me for the whole Ben thing? You’re really going to pretend the thought of having me here without my consent never turned you on?”
He exhaled deeply. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Look, Tatum, I’ll be brutally honest. Yeah, before I had you with me, I fucking hated you. Just like I told you that day on the island. Sometimes I used to picture you crying because of me, screaming because of me, terrified because of me. I’d picture you kneeling in front of me, your eyes filled with fear, your hands tied behind your back, your body covered in bruises. I’d picture you as my hostage, begging me to let you go, and in my head, I never would. Never.”
I froze in place. I wasn’t hearing his words with just my ears. My whole body was picking up on it, blooming with goosebumps that started on my neck and spread out across every inch of my skin. Evil.
Elias skimmed a hand over his jaw and went on. “No, that’s a lie. It wasn’t sometimes,” he said. He stood up, his eyes darkening. “It was all the time. You were constantly in my thoughts, tied up and destroyed. And when I found out you wanted to sell yourself to the society, I didn’t even think it was good enough. I didn’t want you to be willing. I didn’t want your consent. I’ll admit that.”
A thrill of pure fear shot through me. I felt even more nauseated now. “Well, there you go,” I whispered.
“I’m not done. Let me finish,” he said. “I thought I wanted all that. I thought I hated you that much. I thought that was the kind of guy I am. The kind of monster who’d be okay with all that. But then, all those months ago, you told me you didn’t sell yourself. You told me it was your parents. And suddenly there was this crack inside me. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel good. I didn’t want it anymore when I realized I had it. Or at least I thought I did.” He paused to scratch his head. “So I went and spoke to my father. He showed me that.” He nodded toward the contract. “He said there was a clause in there which stated you have to fight me. Pretend not to give consent or know what’s going on.”
I bit my lip. I knew what he was talking about. I saw it while I was reading it earlier. “Yeah. Page four,” I muttered.
“He convinced me you were lying to me because of that. Fairly easy to believe, because you’d lied before about what you did to Ben. So I thought, once again, that you were here willingly. Until today.”
What I allegedly did to Ben, I wanted to scream. I didn’t bother. “What’s your point, Elias?”
“My point is that I did want you as a captive. At least I thought I did. But the second I found out you might actually be here against your will, it made me fucking sick. And now I know it’s true. I know you’re a prisoner. I know that contract is bullshit.”
I pursed my lips. “It’s not,” I said quietly. It was so hard to say the words when they weren’t true, but I had to. Self-preservation.
Elias sat down again. “Look, I can’t help you if you won’t admit it.”
Don’t fall for it. There’s no help coming. Not from him. You can only help yourself.
“I don’t need your help,” I said stiffly.
“You do. But like I said, I can’t get you out of here if you won’t even listen to m
e or trust me.” His eyes were wide, pleading.
Christ, he was a good actor.
I crossed my arms. “If you actually thought I was a captive, and this wasn’t just some sick game you’re playing, you’d call the state police and get me out of here. But you haven’t. I wonder why?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Because I have no fucking idea how deep this shit goes, that’s why! My family has a shit-ton of connections. If my father really wants you here—and it seems obvious he does—then he’ll make it happen. I can guarantee you he has connections with law enforcement, especially local. Wouldn’t put it past him to have them apprehend you under false pretenses and bring you right back here.”
I chewed my lower lip. He wasn’t wrong. His father did have connections with law enforcement, as I’d so alarmingly discovered this morning.
“And that’s just my father,” he went on. “There’s no way he’s the only one involved in all this. The rest of the society has connections too. I just need to wait and find out exactly what the fuck they’re hiding. How deep it all goes, how dangerous it is for you. Then I can come up with a plan to get you the fuck out of here and keep you safe.”
“And how exactly would you figure out their secrets?” I crossed my arms. I could feel my curiosity creeping in, getting the better of me. “Hypothetically.”
“I’m working on it. I have a feeling it’s something to do with the third level. I’m so close, Tatum. So fucking close.”
I almost cracked. Almost started to believe him. But then it all came flooding back. All the things he’d done. All the ways in which he’d hurt me. As strong as my feelings for him were, I couldn’t do it. No way.
“Even if your offer was genuine, which it obviously isn’t, I wouldn’t need your help to get out of here, because I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here with you. My Master.” I gave him a sweet smile.
That was what he truly wanted to hear.
I knew if I agreed with him and said the contract wasn’t real and I didn’t want to be here, his tune would change and he would reveal that it was just more silver-tongued trickery. More testing to see what a loyal slave I was. I was sure of it, and I’d already made a vow earlier to never fall for it again. I wasn’t going to go back on that vow within just two or three hours.
