Page 47 of Inheritance

He looked through the large window with calm authority. “I’m going to steal it. Then I’m going to wipe that family off the map. Every. Last. One of them.”

He gave me a sideways glance.

“Except Caroline. I’m not a monster.”

I didn’t let my expression crack. Not for him. Not for this.

He ruffled my hair. “Try to get better sleep tonight, tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

The chain at my ankle felt heavier now, and I felt weak. He stood, and walked away.

I stared at the end of the hall, where the air still carried the chill of his presence, where he would eventually reappear. Every cell in my body was buzzing with anxiety at the thought he would at any moment.

I curled my legs to my chest, the chain scraping faintly as it shifted. I didn’t cry. There was no use in that. Not now.

I just sat there, listening to the silence Ivan left behind, trying not to think.

Caroline’s door creaked open. She stepped out.

This time, she was dressed—barely. The outfit looked like Ivans idea of modesty. Her hair was tousled, and her face held a strange, eerie calm that unsettled me more than if she’d come out screaming.

“Caroline,” I said, sharper than I intended. “Your entire family thinks you’re being held hostage.”

She paused. Guilt flickered across her face. Then it vanished, replaced with cold detachment.

“I can’t control what they think,” she said, shrugging like none of this mattered.

I stood, lowering my voice but not my urgency. “You literally can. All you’d have to do is pick up a phone and tell them you’re here—tell them we’re?—”

“I’m not allowed to have a phone. Ivan’s rules.”

“So you are being held here… against your will, But you like it?”

She looked away, her eyes settling on something in the corner of the room. She nodded.

After a dozen heartbeats, she still didn’t look back at me.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

She nodded again.

I stared at her, trying to keep my voice from cracking. “Ivan hasn’t… hasn’t forced you to do anything, right?”

She shifted, uncomfortable. Then finally looked at me. “That’s… kind of complicated. But I guess the answer is no.”

Complicated. Like this was some moral riddle. Some philosophical debate.

Manipulation. Stockholm syndrome. Trauma bonding. Whatever it was, she was a victim.

“Gabriel is going to come here,” I said, my voice tight. “He’s going to get us both out—and when he does, he’s going to kill Ivan. You know that, right?”

She looked down, her arms folding in like she was closing off.

“Maybe he won’t,” she whispered. Her eyes shimmered with the suggestion of tears.

“If Gabriel doesn’t kill Ivan, then Ivan will kill him. That’s how this ends. One of them dies. That’s not a warning—it’s a fact. You need to find a way to get the key to this chain so we can?—”

“What do you expect me to do?” she yelled. “Even if I could get the key, even if I told Gabriel I wanted to be here… do you really think he’d believe me? What difference would it make?”