I jump up the last of the steps, coming to a stop when I see Silas speaking to Ellen in the hall. My twin turns to me, his arms crossed. Kit doesn’t look amused. “You left her in the kitchen?”
I half-shrug. “That’s what we agreed. Right?”
He presses his lips together before he nods, turning back to where Silas is giving further instructions to Ellen. Her brows rise higher with every statement. “Don’t you think this is all a little… excessive?”
I clear my throat. “She’s here, instead of rotting away in a prison cell. So I’d say that’s a bonus, Ellen.”
Silas nods in agreement. He still looks angry, that crease between his eyes on full display as he looks down at our petite housekeeper. “I expect the rules to be followed, Ellen. Don’t challenge me on this. No exceptions.”
Ellen is probably one of the only people who could challenge him and get away with it, but she hasn’t been managing our home for so long without understanding when to push, and when to leave things the hell alone. She looks grim, but she nods. “I understand. Is she… does she need anything this evening?”
I shake my head. “Leave her be until tomorrow.”
Ellen hesitates. “The chains—,”
“Stay on,” Silas says shortly. “For now, at least. Anastasia needs a reminder that this will be nothing like her last stay in this house.”
We can’t leave her chained forever, of course. But a day or two – just to remind her of her place here – no, that won’t hurt.
I push away the pleading look on her face as I left her.
She deserves this, I remind myself. She deserves all of this, and more besides.
Ellen nods, but she still doesn’t look happy. “There’s no bedding down there.”
Kit shifts next to me, and I wonder if my twin agrees with the subtle criticism in her voice.
“She made her sister sleep on solid stone for years, Ellen.” Silas’s voice is harsh. “A few days isn’t going to kill her. She wants comfort, she needs to work for it.”
Starting first thing tomorrow. Our new house guest is in for a rude awakening.
Kit abruptly turns, and I stare after him as he disappears down the hall towards his music room. Silas hesitates, half turning as if to follow before he thinks better of it. “I’m heading up. Ellen, you should get some rest.”
Once she’s gone, he turns to me. My older brother looks tired. “You should get some sleep too. Who the hell knows what tomorrow will look like.”
Our first full day with Anastasia. Not that she’ll see much of us as she starts to serve out her sentence.
Twenty years.
I shake my head as Silas watches me. “I’ll be up soon.”
He doesn’t argue, and I wave a hand as I head into the study Kit and I now share between us. His side of the room is spotless as always, a stark contrast to the chaos covering my desk. I settle into the battered leather seat, flicking through the latest stack of paperwork, agreements and contracts that we put together relatively quickly to temporarily free us up from our many business interests across Sorelle.
To be here. With her.
We’ve redesigned our entire lives to fit around the girl sleeping in our kitchen, and Stasi has no idea. No idea how deep our anger runs. More deeply than she could possibly realize, and I lean back, considering her reaction to our arrival here. Her question about our father.
She doesn’t know.
And somehow the thought of her not knowing what she did stokes the old anger even further.
She left us in ruins and strolled off to cause misery in someone else’s life, without a care in the world.
My hand tightens on the contract in my hand.
She lied to us, betrayed us, and then she left us.
And I fucking hate her for it.
I manage to hold out for another hour or so before throwing the papers down onto the desk and getting up. My feet carry me out of the study almost without thought.
I ease my way back down the steps into the darkness of the kitchen, lit only by the last of the embers in the hearth. They illuminate Stasi’s sleeping figure, highlight where she’s curled on her side to try to get comfortable. The dull orange glow glints off the edges of the shackles keeping her bound.
I settle down onto the step, my elbows resting on my knees as I watch, track the soft rise and fall of her chest.
Yes, I hate her.
Almost as much as I once stupidly thought I loved her.
And still, I sit here like a fucking idiot until my ass goes numb. I watch Stasi sleep restlessly, tossing and turning as she fights to get comfortable on the solid stone. Unable to believe that she’s here, back under the same roof as us.
Except this time, she doesn’t get the choice of leaving.
I only slip away when the pink glow of dawn starts to show through the window.
