9
350words
The news on the TV was loud—something about the appointment of a new Chief of Staff.
Yesterday’s bloodbath was being scrubbed from history.
Seraphina and her father were being framed for embezzlement and died in a "tragic fire."
Cyrus had backed the winning side. He had secured a new ally in the government and erased his own paper trail in the process.
The man was a genius of malice.
...
The door opened.
"Mr. Thorne!"
I sat up quickly, trying to look like a child waiting for a parent.
I watched him enter, his eyes absorbing none of the morning light.
And what about me? Was my sacrifice enough to get me what I needed?
"Everyone out," he commanded his men. "I want to sit with her."
He pulled up a chair. He didn't say anything, just watched me.
I hated his gaze. it was like a needle, trying to find a vein.
"Posie."
He leaned back, tapping his fingers on the armrest.
"Why did you jump in front of me yesterday?"
Because even if I hadn't moved, you would have pulled me in front of that bullet yourself, I thought. But I just shook my head.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?" He chuckled.
I looked up at him. "Seraphina was going to hurt Mr. Thorne. I didn't want you to get hurt."
"And if that bullet had hit your heart? You’d be dead. Do you understand that?"
He pressed a finger to my chest, right over my heart.
His eyes were predatory, searching for a crack in my mask.
"If you knew you were going to die, would you still have done it?"
He leaned in so close our noses almost touched. He was hunting for the truth in my eyes.
If I faltered now, I was dead.
"Yes," I whispered. "I would, Mr. Thorne."
My soul felt cold. That needle was piercing me again.
He wanted to drain my marrow, to strip my flesh and see my heart beating for him.
Only then would he be satisfied.
