Page 43 of Sigma

He turns away from me, hands going in his pockets. “You only know this from hearsay.”

I shrug. “I mean, the hearsay is having heard bits and pieces of the story from multiple people who were there. So, it’s not hearsay, it’s just that I don’t have the complete story. It happened twenty years ago and they don’t really like to talk about it.”

He turns back to me, composed once more. “Your mother doesn’t seem to think I’m willing to harm you.”

I swallow. “Are you?”

“I was hoping merely having you in my possession would be enough. It seems I was incorrect.” He paces back to me. Stares down at me. “What am I to do with you, Corinna Roth?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want.”

He’s utterly still, only his eyes moving, searching me, as if I somehow have the answers he’s looking for. “Your father, perhaps.”

“What about him?”

He shakes his head slightly. “She wasn’t crazy.”

“Who?”

He doesn’t seem to hear me, turning away. “Theymurderedher.”

“Apollo, what are you talking about?”

His chest rises and falls heavily, swiftly. He’s troubled. His temple pulses, his jaw flexes and tics.

Fear twists inside me. What is going to do?

“Apollo, what are you talking about?”

“Mymother,” he snaps, whirling on me, eyes burning, wild, angry. “Your mothermurderedmine.”

I suck in a breath. “Holy shit.”

He steps closer to me. His eyes bore into mine. “They ruined my life.”

“I don’t think they know you existed,” I argue.

“Immaterial.” He grabs his phone off the couch, unlocks it, brings up the keypad to dial a number, and hands it to me. “Call your father.”

I swallow hard. Hesitate.

My hesitation costs me—his hand flashes, and the knife touches the thin, delicate skin of my throat, where the strap of my dress wraps around my neck. A featherlight touch of the blade, and I can feel blood trickling down and pooling in my clavicle.

My heart pounds in my ears.

“Call…him.” He bares his teeth—it’s not a smile, it’s a threat. “Or you’ll spend your stay with me naked.” His eyes flick down over my cleavage. “I’ll enjoy it. You won’t.”

I dial the number for Dad’s phone—a child of my generation, I don’t have many phone numbers memorized, but I do know Mom’s and Dad’s by heart. It rings twice.

“Hello, this Valentine Roth.”

“Daddy?”

His breath catches. “Rinna.” A breath, not quite a sob. “Are you okay? Where are you? Nobody can find anything—we’re trying, baby girl.”

I look at Apollo. “I’m all right, Dad. I’m not hurt.”

He snatches the phone from me. “Yet.” A pause as he listens—I can’t hear the other side of the conversation. A laugh. “Threats, is it? Yes, I know where your wife is. I’m keeping tabs on her, not to worry. She’s causing a bit of trouble, actually, but it’s only made the game even more fun.”