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I leave a fresh sandwich, apple, banana, new bag of pretzels, a bottle of orange juice, and a large bottle of water on the tray next to her cot, picking up the old one as I stand.

I don’t know what comes next.

I don’t know how to get past this.

Most of all, I don’t know how to stop loving her.

Goddamnher for that.

34

MILENA

The food is a nice touch.

So was the blanket I woke up to find draped over me. I’m also not chained anymore: the manacle around my ankle is gone.

The food is making me feel a little more clear-headed—which may or may not be a good thing. The sleep helped, too, though I can’t actually believe Ididfall asleep again. But I guess after forcing myself to stay awake for God knows how long, it had to happen eventually.

I sit quietly on the edge of the cot on day…who knows…slowly eating the sandwich. I’d like to say that after days in this hellhole,anythingwould taste good.

…But even so, it’s a pretty fucking tasty sandwich.

Plus, it’s a distraction from everything going on in my head right now. I’m too exhausted to think this through anymore or wonder what comes next. Too tired to dwell on the fact that the man I’ve fallen in love with—twice—hates me.

Tasty sandwiches or not, hehates me. Otherwise, I’d be out of this fucking cage. He’d be looking me in the eye, and we’d betalkingabout everything.

And that’s the other fucked-up part: I know that if he walked down here and let me outright now, I wouldn’t run away. I wouldn’t slap him or tell him to fuck off and die. I wouldn’t run to my father to have him avenge me.

I’d still want to be with Nero.

I’d still want to hold him and be held by him.

I’d still be fucking in love with him, which is just…I don’t know. A sign of serious mental issues? Or just plain pathetic?

Footsteps descending the basement stairs pull me out of my thoughts. I wash down the last bite of turkey and Swiss with a swig of OJ as Nero unlocks the basement door and steps in.

“Here to throw more water over me?” I mutter. “You missed your chance last night when I was out.”

He doesn’t respond, just stands outside the bars in dark slacks and a white button up, the sleeves rolled to his elbows and his arms folded. Watching me, his green eyes glinting ferally.

“Thanks for the food,” I mumble. “And the blanket.”

He nods, still saying nothing.

Finally, the silence is too much.

“Why am I still in this cage, Nero?” I say quietly.

His jaw sets.

“What do youwantfrom me?” I say, a little louder. “Another confession?! I’ll confess to whatever the fuck you want, okay?”

His eyes glint. “I’ve never been looking for a confession, Milena,” he growls. “I’ve been looking for an admission.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine! Then let meadmitto you that?—”

“Lose the fucking sarcasm,” he hisses, “and tell me the truth. Not what you think I want to fucking hear,” he snaps. “Thetruth. If you’re even capable of that.”