Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Is this a test too? Are they waiting for me to make a choice? To eat or grab a knife and throw it at them? Or maybe the food is poisoned.
Panic rushes through my veins. They wouldn’t, right? Or maybe he would … after all, Eli did say I did something bad and that I deserved to be punished. Maybe death is a part of the punishment.
I’m not so hungry anymore.
“Amelia …” Eli muses. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
Even his accomplices, Tobias and Soren, are eating to their heart’s content. The first with elegance and manners, the second as though he’s devouring a spit roast at an eating competition.
I turn my gaze at all the delicious food lying on my plate and bite my lip, wishing I could take a bite, wishing I knew if it would kill me or not. But I don’t want to take that chance. My life is still worth living.
At least … as long as I manage to get out of this mess. Because who knows how long these men will keep me here.
Eli cocks his head when I don’t respond. “You are hungry, though, right?”
I throw him a deadly stare.
He looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “It’s food, Amelia. You don’t trust us, do you?”
“No,” I reply shortly. Tobias snorts, which makes Eli throw him a look to shut him up.
Soren hasn’t even spoken to me since I came here, and I don’t think he’ll jump in any time soon either.
Eli gazes at me again with blazing fury in his eyes. “It is not poisoned, if that’s what you think.”
Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows. I can’t trust a thing he says. So I shove the plate away so I don’t have to smell all that good stuff.
“Fine. You don’t want to eat? Then don’t,” he retorts, his voice in stark contrast with before. He picks up his fork and starts slicing his bacon into bits. “I gave you a choice.”
“What … is that supposed to mean?” I almost choke on my own words.
He stops slicing for a moment. “It means that you have a choice. In everything. And that choice determines the next actions.”
“Next actions?” I hold my breath.
He can’t mean …
He looks up at me with devilish eyes. “Every choice has a consequence, angel.”
Tears well up in my eyes, and in a bout of rage I throw my napkin out onto the table. “I didn’t ask for any of this!”
“Yes, you did,” he replies stoically as though it doesn’t affect him to see me in pain like this.
The other men are silently complicit in his trickery.
“If I’d known, I would’ve never said those words,” I growl.
He takes a bite of his bacon and swallows it down before replying. “But you did, and now look where we are.”
“You made this choice, not me,” I say, shaking my head.
“This is all on you, angel,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Look, we can talk about it all day long, but nothing will change. You will still be here, in my domain … my house, doing exactly. What. I. Say.” He pronounces each syllable separately as if to add more weight to the already heavy words. “And it is about time you started to respect that.”
I grind my teeth and refuse to respond.
“Now eat. This is your last chance.”
I stare at the plate in front of me, wondering what will happen if I don’t do what he asks. Before I came downstairs, I told myself I’d comply, but that was before I learned more men were keeping me here. More secrets, more lies. Even if I played along, who knows what else he keeps hidden from me. What else he could use to keep me here.
Even though I hate conflict with all my guts, I cannot in good conscience do as he wishes. But what will it cost me? And am I willing to throw it all away just over a bit of food?
I gulp, considering my options.
All three men are busy eating their food, but not me. I can’t stop staring at it, like it’s a ticking time bomb. Tick. Tick. Tick. A clock on the wall behind me adds to the pressure. Soon there won’t be any more time left to make the decision.
Eat or don’t eat. That’s the choice. But I can’t make it, no matter how hard I try. I scoot closer, pick up my fork and pull the plate closer. But one look at that gleeful face makes me stop in my tracks again.
This is what he wants. He wants me to give in and let him control me. To admit I was wrong and he was right all along … that I need to be punished … that I deserve whatever I have coming for me.
No way.