Something is not right about this.

Something is very, very wrong.

Later I wake. The fire is down and it’s cold in here. I get up and throw a few logs on, then go piss in the bathroom.

I bet that bitch needs to pee. Probably shit too. I zip up my fly and walk over to the door that leads to the utility room that leads to the prisoner’s room. I knock.

“What?” she says from the other side of the door.

“I know you untied yourself. Move away from the door, to the far corner. Then call out once you’re sitting down so I know where you’re at.”

I half expect an argument. Surely she must be thinking she has the upper hand right now. She got out of her bindings and there were no immediate consequences.

But that’s not because I’m going soft. It’s because those consequences are about to upend her world. My words will ruin her life.

And I can’t wait.

“Ready,” she calls.

I open the door and flick the switch on the wall since I don’t have my night vision on. She throws up a hand to cover her face, blinded.

“Stand up, walk over here, and get on your knees in front of me.”

“I can’t see,” she says.

“You’ll manage.”

She crawls over instead, looking down at the floor to keep the light out of her eyes. Her long hair sways across the concrete, picking up bits of dust as she goes. When she gets to my feet she kneels and sits back on her butt. But she never lifts her eyes.

Her breasts are a nice size. Not too big, but certainly not small. Somehow she has positioned her hair so that once again it drapes over her nipples, shielding herself from me. She clasps her hands in her lap and bows her head as she waits.

It’s not what I expected. I expected more of a fighter, to be honest. Company kids, even the hidden ones, tend to be violent when pushed. But if what I think about her situation is true, then it might all make sense.

“Do you remember what happened last night?”

“You raped my mouth,” she says back without emotion.

“No,” I laugh. “That’s absolutely not what happened.”

“I was under duress.” And now she does lift her head. And she doesn’t even squint as the light hits her eyes. They are not as dark as I thought. In fact, they are a lot like mine. She blinks as I stare at her. Mine might be more yellow than green, but hers are more green than yellow. “And I know more about you than you know about me. I know you’re a genius. Recruited to computer science at Stanford at sixteen. You turned them down. MIT at seventeen for robotics. Turned them down. And at your high-school graduation in Boston, no fewer than sixteen colleges and universities from around the world showed up to offer you a spot. And you turned them all down to join the army as an enlisted man.”

I smirk at her. “Someone in this room has a stalker, Sydney. But it’s not me.”

“Ha. Ha,” she says back. “My point is, I know you’re a smart man, Merric Case, AKA Merc. AKA Number… wait, what number did they give you again? Oh, yeah, you never really had one. They lied. You were only on the job so they could keep tabs on you and get you to kill off as many Company kids as—”

I slap her across the face and she goes reeling. She hits the floor so hard for a moment I think I cracked her teeth. “Get to the point, bitch.”

She looks up at me again, blood coming out of her mouth. “You raped me. You know you raped me. And I’ll sit here and lie to you all you want. Tell you everything you want to hear. But you raped me.”

“You said yes. You said, ‘Fuck me.’”

“I said, ‘Fuck me then. Or kill me. I don’t really care. Do whatever you want.’”

I reach down and grab her arm, then pull her up to her feet, making her stand naked before me in the light. If she’s embarrassed, she doesn’t show it. “Then you shouldn’t have said it, wildcat. Because I take everyone at their word.”

She wants to growl at me for using that word, I can tell. But she can’t. And I know why she can’t. Maybe she knows too, or maybe she doesn’t know. No difference. I’m about to find out one way or another. “Hush,” I say. She stares up at me and her scowl softens. “Do you know what that means?”

“It means shut up.”

“Hush,” I say again. And this time she squints her eyes in confusion. “How about now?” She puts one hand over her stomach, like she feels sick, while the other one comes up to push against her temple. I have syringes in my pocket—low-dosage sedation to keep her calm, but not put her out. More than one, just in case the dose is too low or I need more time.

“Wildcat,” I say. She blinks and appears confused. I check her compliance. “Give me your arm.”

She looks up at me, still fighting, but she’s losing. She’s lost, actually. “Hush,” I say one more time, and there it is. She presents me with her arm like a gift. I grab hold of her bicep and squeeze tighter than is probably necessary. She holds still this time. But I’m not convinced this isn’t all an act. I jab her with the needle and push the plunger until the drugs empty into her muscle.

It’s gonna take a while. So I lead her over to the fireplace and lay her down. She does not move.

I walk back outside the room, flip open the fireplace partition, and then return, turning off the light and closing the door behind me. She’s still on the rug, facing the flames. “Does it feel good?” I ask her.

She doesn’t answer. I tug my shirt over my head and lie down on the rug next to her, pulling her into my arms and holding her close. She sighs.

Fucking women are so easy. So weak when it comes to men. I’ve always had this advantage. I’ve yet to have a woman turn me down for a good hard fuck.

I’m dangerous. I’m big in every way that counts. And I’ve got moves that will make them beg me for more while cursing my name.

I palm Sydney’s breast. It’s firm, but squishy. Not fake. But they are near perfect in my eyes. How she got away with never sleeping with that husband-to-be of hers is beyond me. If she was mine, I’d just take her ass. Literally and figuratively.

“Let’s start at the beginning, Sydney. OK?”

She nods against my chest.

“Only this time, cowgirl, I’m gonna tell you what happened and you’re going to listen. OK?”

“OK,” she says back.

“Compassion sends mixed signals. If it’s real, it can lead to survival. Just be damn sure it’s real.”

– Sydney

A m I awake?

“Are you awake?” he asks me back. Only I didn’t think I was talking.

Do you read minds?

“Do you read minds?”

I blink as I stare at the fire. Am I alone?

“You’re not alone, Sydney. I’m right here. Feel me?” He takes my hand and tugs my arm at a weird angle behind my back until I feel skin. But not my skin. “I asked you a question, Sydney. Do you feel me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He leans into my neck. I’m on the floor. No. A rug. In front of a fire. I stare at the dancing flames. He’s behind me and we’re naked. No. He’s got jeans on. “Do you know where you are?”

I do.

“Sydney. I’m not going to ask every question twice, so answer me the first time.”

“Yes.”

“Where are you?”

“In the hush.” Wait. What?

“What’s the hush?”

That’s a good question.

His hand wraps around my throat and squeezes until I cough. “No second chances, Sydney. Pay close attention to me. Tell me what the hush is.”

“The quiet place. That’s where I meet him.”

“Who?” His tone has changed. It’s more urgent now. He squeezes my throat again, only this time he doesn’t stop until my head falls forward and I’m gasping for air instead of coughing.