Page 94 of Unlocking Ruin

The messed up part is I do think he is sorry; he regrets killing my dad because he has no exit. Maybe his years in that cell helped him repent one death, but what of the others?

“I’m not just doing this for myself, I’m doing it for them, for their families,” I tell Nelson, and then I step inside the elevator with Torben. As the door closes, I see his face pale.

“What’s the plan?” Torben questions as the elevator rises.

“Slow,” I declare. Reaching up, I tug at my collar and cough. It feels like water is grabbing me, trying to drown me again. “All I know is I need it to be slow.”

As slow as the fire, the water.

Fucking slow.

CHAPTER 23

Rylan

Two months later

I’m squeezed into spandex, the very thing I swore I despised—and I still do—but it’s perfect for combat training. Loose clothes are a liability. I learned that lesson fast and won’t repeat it.

Combat training now kicks off every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, right after breakfast.

Lucky me.

Honestly, I’ve grown to like it. The rush of knowing I can defend myself drowns out the irritation of being forced into it.

These people, my new family, have no idea what they are training, what I am hoping to become.

Remember that Trojan horse? Yes, I’d love to come inside. I’d love to learn and see what you have to offer me.

I wander into my new room and sink into the armchair, staring out at the endless garden. I still feel like a guest. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Versailles had been crammed into my window view. Plants and I have never been friends. Even cacti gave up on me. I never had time for them, and they wilted in the gloom while I hunched over my computer.

I sit up straighter, eyes following the crown molding that frames the massive window. I begged Alister to let me move out, to find a shoebox apartment, anything but this sprawling mansion.

His answer? Build me a cottage on his land.

Strange? Completely. And it’ll take eight more months.

In Alister’s world, this is normal—after all, Henderson, my half-brother, has his own house on the estate too.

These people are like hamsters—all stuck in the same cage, clamoring for the same wheel to play on.

Better watch out, I’m going to spin that wheel till it breaks!

This family is suffocatingly close. I’m talking matching Christmas pajamas close. I haven’t caught them in the act yet, but just wait until the holidays roll around.

I crouch to lace up my ankle-high fighting boots. My hands go still, eyes glued to my ankle.

“Don’t,” I hiss. Don’t you dare think of Steffen!

The first time I met my father, Alister Baine, he told me that when my mother came to him and admitted she had his child, he hoped it was a boy. Personally, he didn’t care about the gender.

He wanted a son for one single, painfully honest reason.

He only hoped for a boy because he said, “The world forgives men, whether they are evil monsters or saints wrongly accused; a purpose is always found, a reason to let them go is granted. Women are never forgiven. I want you to remember that, Rylan: stop searching for something the world will never offer you. They will take from you, with or without your consent. And if you even dare to point a finger or voice what has happened, they will bury you. Men are masters at turning the tables.”

He leaned in, his voice dripping with warning. “So make sure when you lash out, you don’t seek forgiveness. Don’t seek to get even. Seek to erase them.”

Every night, I sink into my new pillow and stare up at the wild, ornate wallpapered ceiling, my mind circling back to his words.