Page 62 of Cain

I will devour her.

But I will do it when I decide. When there is nothing left of her except what I allow her to be.

And when that moment comes, when she finally shatters beneath me, she will understand.

Ifeel a lot better. The fever dropped yesterday and didn’t rise again for the whole day today. I hate to admit it, but after he left, I started feeling better. Physically, at least, because mentally, I have been a mess. I am pissed, actually. I can’t believe how low I’ve fallen that I allow a psycho killer to mess with my mind like this. I can’t believe that I allowed myself to feel the tiniest positive feeling about him—the slightest desire.

Damn, the desire started getting stronger than I ever expected. Why is this happening to me? Why can’t I get him out of my head? Why can’t I stop thinking of his hands on me? His tongue on me. His fingers inside me…

God, Katerina, wake up!

He doesn’t deserve my lust or my attention. He’s just a cold-hearted, cruel vulture that keeps me trapped against my will. I’m surprised I still haven’t bumped into more poor women like me in his house.

Eleanor said he’s never done that before, but after all, I don’t think I can trust her.

I need to get out of my room and have a walk. Too much thinking will fry my brain.

I step out of my room, more confident this time, and walk to the kitchen. As always, the house looks quiet and deserted. Upon arriving in the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of water and take a sip of it.

“Good afternoon, Miss.”

A male’s voice makes me gasp in fear.

“Who are you?”

“I apologize for scaring you. It wasn’t my intention,” he says, looking me in the eyes. “I am Grayson.”

I hold myself back. I don’t talk, but I can’t hide my curiosity, and I don’t prevent myself from studying him profoundly. He doesn’t seem too old. He must be around Eleanor’s age, maybe a bit older. He looks around fifty-five. His hair is gray and pulled back, and his face is glassy. He doesn’t have many wrinkles, only around his eyes and a bit next to his lips, shaped by years of smiles.

“I am Miss Ružicková,” I say decisively.

“Czech, huh? It seems like a magical country.” He smiles brightly, placing his hands behind his back.

Usually, this kind of gesture would make me jump in fear, but he doesn’t seem dark, twisted, or even dangerous. He looks like a good man.

But then again, that’s what I believed about Cain.

“It is.” My eyes lower, thinking of my country. I miss it. I miss how safe I felt there despite my parents.

He walks closer, making me take a few steps back. Unbothered, he reaches for a glass, pours water from the tap as well, and joins me for a drink.

He takes a slow sip of his water, watching me with a quiet kind of attentiveness. Not the kind that makes me uneasy, but one that feels patient. I dare say understanding, even.

“You must miss it terribly,” he says after a moment, his voice gentle. “Home has a way of staying with us, even when we’re far from it.”

I swallow, unsure how to respond. Most people overlook that. They ask where I’m from, nod politely, and move on. But he sees it.

“I do. It was peaceful there,” I finally admit.

He hums quietly with a faint smile. “Peace is a rare thing. Even rarer to recognize when you have it. I had a place like that once. A small house near the lake. My mother used to say the trees whispered secrets if you listened closely enough.”

I smile. “And did they?”

He chuckles. “Oh, absolutely. Though, as a boy, I was convinced they were just complaining about the weather.”

A small smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it.

Grayson remains quiet for a while. He doesn’t push me to talk. He seems kind. The kindest I’ve met in this whole madness. He sets his glass down and leans slightly against the counter.