Page 68 of Z For Butterfly Man
“The IV came out clean. No more needles. I’m going to feed you and take care of you properly myself. But this isn’t really what you’re concerned about, is it?” The back of his hand caresses my arm. “You always glance at your left arm even though the most pain comes from your right. At first, I thought it was a distraction so you wouldn’t answer my questions, but now I know why.”
“What did you do?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something small. A rod. Thin. About an inch and a half long. My birth control implant. And it’s fried, as if someone has poured acid on it. “You’re always making sure you still have this.” He holds it up to the light. “Nexplanon, right? Etonogestrel. Lasts three years. You had about eighteen months left on this one.”
The room tilts again, but this time it has nothing to do with the drugs.
“I’ve read all your books, Reagan. Every single one. And I noticed something interesting. Unless the heroine has a breeding kink, she always panics when the hero comes inside her. Always. There’s that moment of fear. Of consequence.”
He sits on the edge of the bed. I try to pull away, but there is nowhere to go. “But you,” he continues, turning the implant over in his fingers, “you never panicked when I came inside you. Even though you have no breeding kink yourself, obviously, you never once worried about getting pregnant. I wondered why, and then I found this.”
“You had no right—”
“I had every right. You’re mine now. Every part of you. And I won’t have barriers between us.”
I swallow against the nausea. “What happened to Jacob?” I ask again, my voice stronger. The drugs are wearing off enough for anger to break through.
He sets the sketches aside and sits close enough I can feel the heat of him through the sheets underneath me. “Jacob Torrance and everyone with him,” he says, savoring each word, “went kaboom.”
“What?”
“I’ve prepared for every contingency. When they breached our sanctuary, I detonated. The whole structure collapsed. Buried everything and everyone.”
“No—”
“He’s dead, Reagan. I watched from the boat. Saw the explosion. Saw the cliff face come down. No one survived that.”
The room shrinks. The shelves press in, sucking the air out of my chest, ripping my heart. Jacob is gone? Butterfly Man killed him? No. This can’t be happening. This is not what is supposed to happen. All this time, Jacob was a good man. This monster was trying to mess my head up so I’d turn on him. Jacob was the last thread to a future without pain. Without him, there’s nothing left but a predator’s shadow, circling, hungry, and I’m the pinned butterfly under glass with no escape. “You’re lying. You’re lying!”
“When have I ever lied to you, my little butterfly?” He leans in closer. “And the man with the motorcycle is next. I’m going to make sure Tristan Morra understands what happens when someone touches what belongs to me.”
CHAPTER 32
Reagan
My mouth tastes like copper. My wrists ache, wrapped in gauze that’s too white, too clean, too much of a reminder.
I’m still alive.
The thought brings neither relief nor disappointment. Just a dull, hollow awareness that pain still haunts me like a ghost with a vendetta.
A chair scrapes against linoleum. Someone is here. I turn my head, expecting Shane. Maybe even my parents, although I know better than to hope for that.
It’s Mason.
Sandy blond hair disheveled. Dark circles under his eyes. His jaw tight with something between anger and concern. He’s wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, his hands shoved deep in his pockets like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
“You’re awake.” His voice is rough, like he hasn’t slept.
I stare at him, confusion clouding my already foggy brain. “Sorry to disappoint you. It wasn’t the plan.”
His brows furrow. “Seriously?”
There’s nothing more serious than suicide attempts from someone who is done crying for help. My gaze returns to the white ceiling. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but of all the people I expected to see, you’re the last. Why are you here?”
“You belong to me, ain’t it? Been that way for months. You and Blue made sure of it.”
Everything comes rushing back. The club. The photos. Shane. The lies that were put on my tongue. I want to sink into the mattress, disappear into nothing. “I told them you didn’t do it. I was going to tell the truth.”
