Page 22 of Beautiful Nightmare

sacrifice myself forhim in any way I can.

What happens next isup to you. Heads or Tails?

And that includes givingin to his fucking games.

My voice shakes nervously. “Tails.”

I always likedthe long game. To watch as they do what I command.

My brow furrows in confusion.Rage courses through me. And I am suddenly very awake. The sharp pain stabbing in my skull dissipates as my focus centers on Beckham.

“Prince! You motherfucker!”

An evil cackle follows.

I wish,but sadly both of yours are dead.

Time passes slowly,or does it?

Hours or days or weeks—I don’t have a clue how long it’s been.

The concept of time doesn’t exist here, whereverhereis.

Sitting up on my knees, I place both hands above my head until they connect with the ceiling. What’s above is as hard and cold as what I sit on. I move my fingers around the space. Surely there has to be an opening, an entrance somewhere. I didn’t magically just end up in a hole, or did I?

Claustrophobia hits me like a tidal wave. Panic sends my mind into a tailspin. I feel as if I have just fallen through ice, in the middle of a lake, on a cold winter’s day. Freezing water sucks me in and feels like a thousand knives piercing my skin.

Hypothermia.

Opening my eyes, I look up, hands against the ice, unable to find the hole that I just plummeted through. Rapidly, I search and search, letting my last air bubble out, and my body weeps as I begin to fade. All hope is gone, and I let myself go, drifting off to the depths of no return.

And that is exactly how this feels, slapping the palms of my hands against the cold cement ceiling, hopelessly. Until I give one last bang, pleading, “Please,” and squeaky hinges respond.

Relief allows my body to relax. Sliding my hands above, a sharp edge catches my skin, telling me it’s wood. It’s a small wood door.

Then realization washes over me. Shit, I’m in a cold storage space. It’s the only thing that makes sense, with how tiny it is and the location of the overhead door. But how the fuck do I get out of it? I didn’t even know the manor had one of these.

And as I think about the manor, Agatha’s floating body comes to the forefront of my mind. A silver knife angled so perfectly at her thick throat. One movement and it would slice her open and release all life from her.

I would not mourn her, nor would I cry. A celebration of death would be held as I burned this forsaken place to the ground. No other child should have to be placed here or put through her wrath. And as much as I hate Prince, he didn’t deserve her shit either, because he was just a child; he could have been saved.

Prince was her favorite out of the two of us. You wouldn’t be able to tell immediately because she strived to make us both miserable and obedient, but my punishments were always worse than his. And Prince has always been suspicious of her but never acted on it until now.

He loves a long game, to watch and wait. To play them like a fucking fiddle and then laugh as they burn is his specialty. Just as he did with his parents before their untimely ending.

And with this one simple thought, his voice invades my inner sanctum once more.

Close your eyesand come on this ride with me.

I try to resist,but his abilities force them shut.

Heavy breathing fills my ears.

With my bare feet against the cool floor, I push my seated body backward.

Who is in here with me?

The hard wall hits sooner than expected, startling me. I gasp, freezing from fear.