Page 27 of The Castle (Endgame 3)
I suck in a breath. “How did she—”
“Survive? Dear old Dad made sure to put a call in to Damon. He had no idea if he’d find a dead body at the bottom of the pool.”
“Thank God he didn’t.”
“What Jonathan Scott did to her… Most people would rather have died. So now you know why I keep you locked up. Why I’ll continue to lock you up. To keep you away from him. To keep you for myself. There’s really no end to the depraved things I want to do to you. We’re not so different.”
My stomach clenches. “What you do to me is nothing like what he did to her.”
“It’s convenient that you think so.” He tosses back the rest of his coffee. “Because I don’t plan to stop. Not for Jonathan Scott. Not for anyone. You’re mine, and I damn well keep what’s mine.”Chapter Fourteen“So dark,” Penny whispers, staring ahead.
Every single light in the guest bedroom is on, including a lamp on the bedside table and a small chandelier overhead. There’s also a night-light plugged into the wall, its tiny light barely adding to the blaze. None of it seems to penetrate her mind.
“Shh.” I smooth back her hair. “Don’t try to figure it out right now. Rest.”
I never thought of myself as a nurturing person. I always assumed that when I had a child, the instinct would be gifted to me, some kind of biological imperative. Maybe Justin and I would have gotten a puppy to practice, something purebred with a glossy coat.
“Sleep now,” I whisper, stroking her hair.
Whatever the reason, Penny seems to have taken to me. She goes completely silent whenever Damon comes near her. And she shrieked when Mrs. B tried to help her take a bath. I’ve been by her side in the three days since we came back to Gabriel’s estate.
It’s been a relief to have someone with me, since Gabriel has been gone during the day.
Finally her eyes drift shut. It’s a small comfort that she doesn’t seem plagued by nightmares. She lives in an almost catatonic state during the day, but she seems to sleep peacefully at night.
Her breathing evens out, and I continue to stand vigil. Looking at her delicate features, it’s hard to imagine someone doing what Jonathan Scott did. Violence is never acceptable, but with her pale skin and golden curls she looks angelic. What kind of monster could hurt her?
The same monster who killed my mother.
The same one who threatens me.
A shiver runs through me. There’s no reason to feel uneasy, not when I’m so safe here. West came in to check on me an hour ago. His men patrol the estate. No one could break in here, so why can’t I shake the feeling that I’m not alone? It’s not only Penny’s fragile presence that pierces the air.
I wish Gabriel were here. It always calms me, as if nothing can touch me. Not even a bullet.
That’s how I drift to sleep, curled protectively around Penny’s body.
The shadows shift in my mind, changing from man to monster and back again. Whenever I think I’ve pinned him down, he melts into the blackness—only to reappear from a different angle. He isn’t real, I tell myself. Then why can I hear him laughing?
The sound of laughter jolts me awake. It’s not a dream.
It’s here. It’s really happening. I can hear him.
“Gabriel?” I say, my voice shaking.
For a long moment the only thing I hear is the ringing in my ears. It was only a dream. It must have been. What’s the alternative? That I’m crazy? That the house has been invaded?
That Gabriel has been my enemy all along?
I do feel like I’m going crazy, especially since Penny sleeps peacefully.
My eyes close, fighting the wave of nausea.
That’s when I hear him. “Don’t say you forgot me. You’ll hurt my feelings.”
Wild drumbeats pound through my veins. I scramble from the bed, gaze darting around the brightly lit room. No one’s here with me. “Who are you?”
Another laugh, like in my dream. “I’m the monster under your bed.”
The words are as clear as if someone’s speaking to me, a disembodied voice from my nightmares. Familiar and yet strange. Close and yet completely unknown. Panic squeezes my chest in a vise. I’m afraid to leave Penny alone with the voice, but I’m more afraid that it will follow me. It’s not the house that’s haunted—it’s me. I’m going insane.
I run from the room as if my life depends on it, sightless, gasping—and run straight into a hard chest. A whimper escapes me as I scramble back. It takes half a second for my sight to focus on Gabriel, on his narrowed golden eyes, and by then he’s seen too much.
“What’s wrong?” he says, taking a step into the room.
The way he stands, it’s like he’s poised for battle. He would take on an army for me, but there isn’t an army. There isn’t even a single man to fight. Only the demons in my mind.
