I take a deep breath and step towards the tub, then look over my shoulder to see if he will leave me alone.

“In your dreams.”

I step in and lower myself down into the hot water. It stings bad, since my body is so cold. But it feels way too good to stop, so I sink all the way in and allow a sigh to escape.

I lie back and dunk my hair, closing my eyes to fully become submerged. The outside goes away for a moment, making things seem peaceful. But then his grip on my upper arm pulls me back up.

He squirts some shampoo onto my head, a thin, cold stream that makes me look up at his intentions. But all he says is, “Wash.”

I do wash. I scrub my hair good. Hell, if he wants me clean, I can get on board with that. When my hair is all lathered, he reaches over to the counter for a bowl, and then scoops up water and pours it down my head to wash out the soap.

I look up again. Because I’m just not getting it. But he simply points to a white bar of soap in a dish built into the cabin wall.

I take the hint and wash my body, certain that more than two minutes have passed. But he doesn’t rush me, or even speak again. He just waits until I’m all soaped up and then pours the water over me. Down one shoulder, then the other. Several times, actually. And I’m just starting to relax when he leans over and pulls the plug. The water starts rushing out with that sucking noise that tubs make when they drain. He stands before me, his arms open with a waiting towel.

When I step out, he looks my whole body up and down. I look him up and down as well. He’s got a bruise on his arm where I stabbed him with the syringes.

I look down at my own arms and find the same marks. Another on my thigh. Then the other thigh.

When I look back up he cracks a smile. “I got more where that came from. But let’s try to move forward. I’m not getting anywhere with the drugs, and to be quite honest, I’m on a schedule.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “For killing me?” I ask in a whisper.

He ignores my words. Just wraps me up in the towel and flips the light off as he walks out.

“Follow me,” he calls over his shoulder.

And what choice do I have?

So I do. I follow him down the hallway and meet him in the dark.

“I walk that line between monster and savior, and I use it against them.”

– Case

She steps back into the room that has become her prison, only this time she does it of her own accord.

I need to adjust. Because so far, nothing is working on this girl and I need answers. Time is running out. When this all started I thought the whole thing would be over in two, three days, tops. But we’re on day twelve now. Day twelve.

I take her hand and this must frighten her because she pulls back instinctively, but my squeeze reassures her. She’s warm now. And clean. And calm. So my squeeze is a reassurance that she is still going to be all those things if she gives in. I lead her across the dark room until I get to the far wall, and then I place my hands on her shoulders and push her until she bumps into it with her back.

“What—”

I put my fingers to her lips. “Hush.”

She starts breathing hard and I swear to God, I can almost hear her heartbeat. But I don’t say it again. I don’t want whatever it is that Garrett turned her into. I just want Syd right now.

I wrap my fingers around both her tiny wrists and bring her arms above her head. “Grab hold, Sydney.” She reaches until she finds the chains hanging from the ceiling and they clink a little as she grips them.

I smooth her wet hair down. “Good girl.”

She whimpers.

I lean down to her ear and say, “Shhh. Be still. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Let me go. Please.”

I know she’s looking up at me with those eyes and I have a sudden urge to see them. “If you can behave, I will go open the fireplace. Do you want a little heat, Sydney? A little bit of light?”

“No,” she says back. “I like the dark.”

Shit. That one hush was all she needed. Up until now, it’s been three times to get compliance. But when I need her to resist, she gives in. Fucking figures. “We’ve been in the dark long enough. Let’s meet up in the light.”

She starts to say no again, but I interrupt her with another, “Hush.”

Her shoulders relax a little as she continues to cling to the chains. I wonder what word Garrett uses to bring her out of it? It would be nice to have that.

“Stay here. Just like you are. I’ll be right back.”

I leave her there, walk out of the room, down the hall a few paces, and then stop to listen.

Nothing. She stayed.

OK, Merc. Let’s figure this shit out. I go back out to the living room and throw a few logs onto the dying fire, then press the button that will lift the steel plate on the other side of the wall.

Her feet come into view first, then her legs. I can’t see anything else unless I get on my knees. So I just grab the rug in front of the couch and take it back into the room and drop it down on the ground in front of the fire.

“Case?”

I turn to look at her. The shadows from the flames are dancing up her body, licking them in places I’d like to lick myself. “Yeah?” Is she back? How did she come back?

“Why did you leave me there? Was it because you thought I wasn’t worth saving?”

I walk forward a few paces and stop about four feet in front of her. “What?”

“He said you’d save me. That I shouldn’t worry. Because you’d save me.”

“Who?”

“My father. He said he told you to save me and so no matter what happened, you’d get me out because I was the job. Was I not worth it? Didn’t he pay you enough? You punched me in the face. I was waiting—” She starts to cry and I take a step back. “I was waiting for you. I saw you and that other guy moving in the bushes, and I was waiting. Garrett came in and then—” She lets her chin fall to her chest.

“You knew I was coming?”

She nods, but doesn’t look up. “I think I know why.” She does look up after this, and I wish she hadn’t. She’s got more hurt in that one look than any living creature I’ve ever seen. And I’ve tortured my share of people over the years. Killed too many to count. I’ve seen fear before.

This is not fear.

This is sadness.

“I think it’s because he lied, didn’t he?” She swallows hard, like she’s steeling herself to admit something she’d rather not. “He lied to me. He never sent you to save me. You were always there to kill me, weren’t you?” I shake my head. But she doesn’t see it, or she ignores me, or whatever. “They always wanted to get rid of me.”

“Who?” I take the two steps that separate us and cup her face in my hand. “Who, Sydney?” She might have the answers after all. She might give them up without having to go through with this stupid plan.

“Those people.”

My hope dies a little. “What people?”

“Those people my father has running his PR. They found out about me two years before all this happened. I was living with my mom out in a small town, just east of Cheyenne. And they found out about me.”

“Oh,” I say, for lack of anything else to say to that. Those people. I took care of them years ago. Plus, she doesn’t even have a name for them. PR people is not what I’d call them. But if you’re a kid, you’d probably assume your father was on the up and up instead of a malicious child-killer. So I can’t blame her for that. “No, Syd. He did tell me to come save you. He didn’t lie about that.”

Her face crumples a little, like I just delivered bad news. “OK.”

Something is happening here, but I’m not quite sure I know what it is. But I am damn sure I need to move this shit forward. I had a spark of hope for a second there that she might tell on her own. Admit to lying, and tell me where I can find Garrett. Cop out to seeing him all these years. Cop out to being in on the plan.