Slow Agony (Assassins, #2)(82)

Was he more violent? I thought of him in the morning light, bathed in Marcel’s blood, sneering down at a man who begged for the mercy of death. I shook my head, trying to shake the thought loose. “If he is, it’s because of what you’ve done to him.”

“It’s because he’s not getting his proper treatment.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Is he becoming sexually violent yet, Leigh? Has he ever hurt you?”

I thought of the way Griffin had shoved me into the trunk of the tree, his hands urgent. I thought of the way he’d taken me in the hallway in the dorm.

“That’s really the first stage, you know.” French’s voice was soft. “He’ll only get worse. You know what he’s capable of. You’ve seen it. He’s even managed to seduce you into participating. You need to help me bring him in. It’s the only way we can help him.”

I glared at her. “This isn’t going to work on me, French. I’m not one of your patients. I won’t help you get to Griffin. I won’t let you hurt him.” I shot out of the couch and hurtled across the room to the door.

But the knob wouldn’t turn. The door was locked. “I thought I wasn’t a prisoner.”

“Of course you aren’t,” she said.

“Then unlock the door.”

“Let’s finish our conversation, shall we?” Her voice was so gentle.

I turned to face her. “I won’t listen to you. Griffin isn’t dangerous. You aren’t trying to help him.”

“You poor, confused girl,” said French. “He’s probably told you I’m a monstrous psychopath.”

I swallowed. He had said that.

“He’s the monster, Leigh. Let me help you, and let me stop him from confusing you any further. You shouldn’t be with him.”

Could there be any truth to what she was saying? Would I be better if I were away from Griffin?

Suddenly, something came back to me from the morning when I’d rescued Naomi. She’d been sitting on my couch, talking about Griffin. How can you not think you’re lucky to be free of that man?

I shivered.

But it wasn’t true. It wasn’t only Griffin doing these things. It was me, too. I’d gone into it all willingly enough. There was blood all over my hands too. I couldn’t blame Griffin. He’d been abused and hurt and forced to kill. I’d decided to do it all on my own. If there was a monster here, it was me.

And French? I’d seen the way she’d treated Griffin when we’d been in Op Wraith before. She’d been horrible and manipulative. She was using her abilities on me now, and she was good. She was the one who was confusing me.

I clenched my teeth, narrowed my eyes.

And then I lunged for her, knocking her off her chair onto the ground.

I dug my nails into the flesh of her face.

She shrieked. “Thorn! Get in here and control your daughter!”

I heard the door open, but I didn’t let go of French.

Someone grabbed me under my armpits and hauled me backwards.

French detangled herself from me. She stood up, wiping blood from her face. “You’re a vicious one, aren’t you? I do think you’d make a first-rate assassin.”

I struggled against the person holding me.

“Now, sweetheart, if you don’t calm down, I’m going to give you something to calm you down.” It was my father’s voice. He was the one holding me.

*

I wasn’t sure what my father had injected into my arm, but it had made everything feel very unreal, like I was dreaming. I felt loose and free, no tension anywhere. French had insisted I be handcuffed. I’d let my father do it.

I didn’t feel like I had the energy to resist.

“Listen, sweetheart,” my father was saying, “I’ve been trying to get you away from that horrible Griffin character for over a year now. You have no idea how hard French and I had to work to get Marcel and his men out of jail and working for us.”

“I don’t want away from Griffin,” I said. “I love Griffin.”

“You only think you do,” said my father. “He’s twisted your mind, filled it with all kinds of horrible lies.”

“No, he hasn’t,” I said. “I think you did that, actually. You worked for this terrible company, and made all your money from killing people. You lied to me about all of it. And then you sent Marcel after me. And Marcel killed my friend and made me have a miscarriage and—”

“A what?” My father stood up, his nostrils flaring. “You will not be having the children of a miscreant and criminal, Leigh. You are my daughter, and Griffin isn’t good enough for you. He’s a horrible man. If Marcel stopped that from happening, then I’m glad.”

If I hadn’t been so doped up, that might have made me angry, but I didn’t feel I could rouse the effort.

French rolled her eyes. She was pacing on the other side of the room. “Please, Thorn, can you stop apologizing to her so that we can get on with having her contact Griffin?”

“I’m not apologizing, I’m explaining,” my father said. “I don’t have any regrets, and you know that, Jolene.”

“How do we get in touch with him?” she asked me.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I was supposed to meet them, but that was a long time ago. I’m surprised that this place hasn’t blown up yet.” This stuff was loosening my tongue, too, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have said that.