Page 25 of Glass

“There is a line,” I point out. A line that we are dangerously close to crossing.

Rafe huffs, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “She’s here to be punished, Kit.”

Punished, yes. Abused, no.

“I want to see her punished just as much as you do,” I throw back at him. “But this isn’t the way to do it.”

Silas sighs, leaning back in his chair as he watches Rafe dab uselessly at the green stains on his shirt. “It was only for a day or two, Kit. Not forever.”

“She’s been here for twenty-four hours.” I spread my hands. “That’s enough, Silas. I never knew you to be cruel. Keeping her in chains and not letting her clean herself iscruel.”

He jerks as though I’ve landed a physical blow. “It’s a taste of her own medicine. It’s not going to kill her. And she’s got a water supply, for fuck’s sake.”

“Is it?” My words are soft. “Because there was no mention of chains in the reports we read. If this is to be an eye for an eye, let it be a true one.”

Silas frowns as I wait. He knows I’m right.

“Fine,” he says finally. “I’ll take the damn chains off.”

I shake my head as Ellen pokes her head around the door, assessing the damage. “I’ll do it when we’re done here.”

Rafe gets up with a curse. “I need to change.”

My older brother’s eyes linger on my face as he leaves. “Remember why she’s here, Kit. However easy it may be to forget.”

I have not forgotten.

The rest of dinner is silent. Rafe returns in a clean shirt and trousers, barely touching his food. None of us are in the mood for conversation. But our eyes stay on the door, flicking away every time Ellen walks through it.

Wondering if she might come back, full of fire and ready for another round.

But dinner ends without any sign of Stasi. Silas passes me the keys with a frown, but he doesn’t say anything as I push my chair back.

Rafe glowers from his seat. “I’d leave her for tonight, at least.”

My response is clear as the door to the kitchen closes behind me.

When I enter, Stasi is at the basin, washing dishes. Ellen catches my eye, and I jerk my head towards the door in a silent request. When she hesitates, her eyes flicking to the girlwith hunched shoulders, I hold up the keys in answer to her unspoken question.

“Anastasia.” My voice is soft, but she still whirls around, soap suds flying into the air as a hand presses against her chest. Brown eyes drop down to the keys in my hand.

“Come to tighten them up?” Stasi lifts her wrists. “If you want me to be able towork, I’d leave them as they are.”

The words sound casual enough, but her mouth is twisted. When I take a step, she flinches, and I pause, eyeing her. “I said I wouldn’t hurt you.”

She casts a quick glance to the door behind me. “I learned a long time ago not to take what people say as the truth.”

I study her, pondering her words. “Do you mean us?”

She half-shrugs. “I… not in particular. Just… everyone.”

Everyone.

Frowning, I take another step, and then another, until I’m right in front of her. Stasi blinks as I kneel. “What are you doing?”

“Taking these off.” Leaning back on my heels, I look up at her. “Unless you’d prefer they stayed on?”

She shakes her head, letting loose a breath. “No. I – yes. Please. Take them off.”