Page 109 of Cain

“Are you okay?” he asks. I nod. “Then let’s go.”

“You still want to go out?” I falter.

“I didn’t bring you here to fuck you, little rose. That was a bonus.” He winks, making me chuckle.

Carefully, he lifts me and sets me down in the passenger seat. He runs his fingers through his hair, adjustshis shirt, and steps out of the car. I don’t know if I’m supposed to follow, so I hesitate and stay in place.

He takes something from the trunk, and seconds later, he comes around and opens the door for me. Somehow, it doesn’t feel controlling. It feels princely.

I’ve completely lost my mind.

I get out of the car and realize that we’re on a beach. It’s already nighttime, so it’s quite dark, and the only sound is the waves crashing gently against the shore.

There’s no sea in Czechia, so I’ve always wanted to see it in person. I wondered if it would bring peace. Serenity. But now that I finally stand before it, reality falls short of my imagination.

“The sea,” I breathe, feeling the cool breeze brush against my lashes. “I love the sea.”

“I know,” he says quietly, closing the car door.

I pretend I didn’t hear him, but I did. I’m sure he knows everything about me, but this is different. He actuallyknowsme.

The reason might be creepy, but somehow, it’s okay with me now. I guess I might be weirder than him.

We walk toward the shore, his hand gently resting on my waist as if guiding me to the right place. He lays a blanket on the sand and sits down. I look at him, surprised.

He pats the ground twice. “Don’t be shy.”

Without another thought, I sit next to him. Tonight is a chilly night, and I’ve come out with nothing but a tiny strapped minidress. Great move.

As if he can read my mind, he unfolds a second blanket and gently covers me with it. That’s probably what he took from the trunk.

“Thank you.” I smile, looking at him.

He gives me a sidelong glance and raises a brow. “Anytime,” he says with his signature smirk spreading across his face.

“And you didn’t even have to threaten me with a gun,” I joke.

“It’s still in the car, little rose, but if you’re into it, I can bring it here.” He chuckles.

I roll my eyes provocatively, which makes him laugh harder.

He doesn’t talk again; he merely lets his gaze wander over the sea. He’s a whole different person, and I can’t deny it. He takes care of me; he cares for me.

After days of being confined to one place, I think I’ve started to grow accustomed to it. It’s not as hard as it used to be. I began accepting my fate, my new reality. Maybe even adjusting to it. It’s sick, I know.

But the longer I stay here, the less monstrous he seems. I used to count every second he was near, dreading what came next. Now, I watch him when he isn’t looking. I memorize the way his hands move, the quiet way he speaks when he thinks I’m asleep.

And God help me, sometimes my heart beats faster.

Not from fear anymore. Now, it’s different. It’s a strange thrill that crawls up my spine when I hear his footsteps in the hallway. A rush that floods my chest when he unlocks the door. I wait for him, even when Itell myself not to. I wait for his voice, his presence, as if it has become the only thing grounding me in this place.

I catch myself trying to read his moods. If he’s silent, my stomach knots. If he’s calm, I feel a sense of relief. No, worse than that. I feel safe. And I hate that word now. Safe. It doesn’t mean what it used to. It means something sick. Twisted. It means I’ve stopped looking for an actual way out.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“I have to apologize for my behavior earlier. I kinda snapped.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. You did nothing to me.”