Dollars (Dollar #2)(22)

But now, now it is different, and you will not bow to another.

Not again.

If Elder expected me to serve him, f*ck him, and be at his beck and call. I would jump overboard tonight. Not because I had nothing left to give but because I was finally brave enough to say no.

Even if it meant saying no to any more tomorrows or yesterdays.

No more!

Elder murmured, “What’s going on inside that mind of yours?”

I snarled.

He stiffened. “You look as if you want to go back and kill him all over again.” He cocked his head, inspecting my every inhale, exhale, and twitch. “Are you angry that I came back for you? Do you wish I hadn’t, so you could’ve ended your life, rather than face something new?”

You don’t know me.

Get out of my damn head!

“So that’s what this is about. You’re angry.”

I wanted to tear out his eyes at how condescending he made it sound. I was more than just angry. I was rage itself. I was the harbinger of vehemence.

You think you can scare and belittle me?

Wrong.

I’m done with these parlour tricks.

He smiled coldly, no kindness left in his face. “Anger is expected after what you’ve lived through.” He leaned forward, whip sharp and brutal. “But if you think for one f*cking moment you can take it out on me, you’ll be severely disappointed.”

My chest rose and fell as I breathed harder than I had in years. My bruised ribs bleated with agony.

“If I didn’t recognise that fire in your gaze, I would think you missed that godforsaken hellhole.”

I froze.

You think I liked being beaten?

You think I enjoyed being a slave?

Elder pushed his fork with his index finger, sedate and sly. “You knew the rules there. You knew everything there was to know about the bastard who called himself Master. You knew what to expect and when.”

His black eyes locked me against the hard chair. “You miss predictability even if that predictability would’ve killed you, either by his hand or yours.”

Silence fell, littered with secrets.

He didn’t speak for a few seconds. Running his hand through thick blue-black hair, he whispered, “You pulled the trigger. I watched you take his life happily. You threw off those invisible chains even while you bled out from the wound he inflicted.” His voice dropped to a murmur, “But that wasn’t the moment you ended predictability, Pimlico. You did that before becoming a murderer.”

I sucked in a breath as he stroked his lips with feather-soft fingers. “You did that the moment you kissed me back.”

My tongue twinged as I swallowed hard.

“You changed your future the moment you let me into your bed.”

I didn’t let you.

I had no choice.

Licking his bottom lip, Elder smiled coldly. “I feel you trying to read me, silent mouse. I feel you probing me, watching me; don’t think I don’t. You want—no, you need—to know what I’m going to do to you. Your questions are so f*cking loud they’re making me deaf.”

Standing, he pushed away from the table and paced, looking between me and the spilled soup. “But you won’t learn who I am until you give me what I want in return.”

Determination suddenly etched his face as he stalked toward a sideboard holding a massive candelabra with eight tapered candles and wrenched open a drawer.

Two seconds later, he slammed down a matching notepad and pen. Pushing aside my bowl, he stabbed his fingers at the fresh paper. “Speak to me.”

I cringed but didn’t hunch. I couldn’t keep track of my thoughts. Yesterday, I’d drowned in gratefulness for what he’d done for me. Today, I suffocated in suspicion of his true agenda. And anger. So. Much. Anger. Rage licked me faster and faster, turning my thoughts to ash.

“Talk to me, Pimlico. That’s the least you owe me for what I’ve done for you.”

Done for me?

What are you going to do to me?

Let’s talk about that!

My fingers itched for the pen but not to speak to him. To speak to No One. To ask my unknown, unseen friend what I should make of this new prison and master. Should I run? Should I kill? Should I do neither and submit instead?

The longer Elder kept me wrapped in safety, building my debt to him with every breath, the more I spiralled out of control. I’d lived with such fierce unbreakable boundaries for too long. I knew how to survive Alrik. I knew how to read him. I knew how to prepare for punishment. And I knew how to glue back my shattered pieces afterward. That was it. I didn’t know how to endure anyone else.

And why should I have to persevere with another?

I didn’t know how to be Pimlico in this new world. I had no idea who I’d end up becoming. How could I be something Elder wanted when I had no idea what that was?

Then don’t be Pim.

Be someone else.

But who?

I needed to become someone who could outlast, outsmart Elder Prest.

But I don’t know who he is!

Trembling began again. Swift and severe.

My body betrayed me as more and more confusion plaited with anger. I hated that I had a psychical reaction to Elder as he loomed over me, his hot breath fluttering my eyelashes, his demands crushing me.

“Write what it is that you want.” He took the pen, ripped the lid off, and grabbed my hand.