Page 94 of Retribution

‘Can I have a glass of water, please?’ I ask faintly.

Neither of them moves.

‘I’m not trying to trick you,’ I say. ‘I just haven’t had anything for…a long time. I’m very thirsty. And hungry. And tired.’

They ignore me, of course.

The mixer beeps a little while later and I put the powder into the pill press. I use the manual crank to make a couple, and then peer at them to make sure the consistency is right. It is, so I press the red button and it starts to vibrate, little green pills rolling much more quickly out of this new press than my old one in the cellar of Wrath.

I stagger to the table and sit down. ‘Tell him I’m finished,’ I whisper, closing my eyes.

I feel myself falling, but I don’t hit the floor.

I hear someone angrily whispering that they should have got me a sandwich, and then nothing.

When I open my eyes, I’m in bed, I think. The sheets are black and slippery, and I cringe at the feel of them.

I sit up carefully, my head swimming a little as I lean back on the high pillows behind me with a groan, my eyes closed.

‘You weren’t lying to me.’

My eyes snap open again and I belatedly see Sauvage sitting at the table in the low light. I’m in the same room as before, the one with the bed cage.

‘No, didn’t lie,’ I breathe.

‘You have slept for hours, chéri. You were very tired.’

I nod and look down at myself, so happy to find that I’m still in my own clothes, and no one appears to have tampered with them, that tears come to my eyes.

There’s a knock at the door and my eyes fly to him, wondering what’s going to happen next. I feel a littlebetter after resting, but I’m so hungry and thirsty and I’m still exhausted.

The door opens and one of the guards I remember from the beginning comes in with a tray. He puts it on the table in front of Sauvage who waves him away.

‘You need refreshment, I think. Come.’

Not needing any more prompting, I scootch to the edge of the bed and let my legs down to the floor. I stand up, gripping one of the posts for a moment before I walk carefully to the table and sit across from the French gangster.

On the tray, there’s a carafe of red wine, and a charcuterie board of cheese, cured meat, grapes, and bread.

I eye it and then look up at him.

‘Please,’ he invites. ‘Eat your fill, my petite fleur.’

I take a plate and put some food on it, observing every rule that Mrs. Tremaine drilled into me at The Heath, mostly because I’m running on auto pilot. I can’t seem to force that usual pleasant smile to my face, though, no matter how hard I try.

While I eat, Sauvage watches me in silence. He offers me wine, but I decline, asking quietly for water.

He taps on his phone and the door opens a minute later, the same guy bringing a bottle of water.

He puts it on the table and I snatch it up, drinking from it thirstily, forgetting my manners until my thirst is sated.

‘You have been to finishing school? Your manners are impeccable.’

My lips turn upward just a little. ‘A tutor. A mean bitch with a little stick to rap my knuckles.’

He lets out a soft chuckle. ‘Do you feel better?’

I nod. ‘Yes.’