Page 12 of Ashes to New

“Have you made a decision about the boy?”

“He’s a fun distraction, but our arrangement is only for the girl. If you have difficulties with placing him, I might have a friend or two in mind.”

Elsbeth pressed her forehead against the floor.What arrangement? What the hell was he talking about?

Chapter Seven

SUNDAY.

THE DAY WAS supposedto be a one of reflection. A day of prayer. And, like each breaking dawn, it was time to renew and refresh one’s soul. Sunday was meant to prepare for the challenges of the coming week.

It wasn’t meant to be was a day of torment.

Elsbeth prayed to end her existence. Several times, she plotted the best way to end her life. Strangulation seemed to be the most effective option. Clark Preston kept plenty of rope in the basement, and the overhead beams were sufficiently high. Knives terrified her. Even if slitting her wrists would bring a swift end, it would be messy. Overdosing? Not an option. She had no access to drugs and had been confined to the house for the duration of the summer.

And Forest? What would he do without her? She couldn’t leave him behind, but would she dare take him?

She wanted to scream. She wanted nothing other than to lift her face to the heavens and belt out her misery.

Instead, she remained in position, impotent and weak, while Master John collected his luggage and departed the house. Her prayers for respite went unanswered because Clark Preston marched back into the great room and commanded her to release the rope binding Forest. They were then both ordered to the basement.

The next few hours, Clark Preston refined the techniques he’d learned from Master John. As evening chased the sun under theblanket of night, Elsbeth struggled to catch her breath. She couldn’t handle any more, and even worse, Clark Preston had developed a newfound fascination with voyeuristic sex.

He directed their every move, forcing them into the most intimate embrace, every inch explored, every passage breached. She kept her eyes closed during most of it, her insides a writhing mess of fractured emotions, but Forest’s reaction was much more concerning. While his body responded to the physical stimuli, his mind faded, growing distant.

During the bleakest times, he had always been the one to provide an anchor, curling his fingers around hers. That touch had given her hope. He’d fortified her strength by lending his.

But, the last three times she’d reached for his hand, moments when Clark Preston could not see the tender connection, Forest had withdrawn.

Forced into an intimacy neither of them desired, the one thing she needed was what Forest withheld—his fingers gripping hers. Without him to tell her it would be okay, Elsbeth’s mind spiraled into darkness. Her vow to survive splintered. Hope fled. Nothing mattered. Her body worked on autopilot, responding to Clark Preston’s demands, while she disappeared.

Time passed. It was the one thing Clark Preston could not control. They missed lunch and suffered through dinner, but eventually, the bright summer sky shining through the tiny basement window turned gray and then darkened to ink black.

Finally, Clark Preston rose from his chair. “You may go to your rooms.”

She cleared her throat and dared a question. “Sir, may I prepare a meal before you turn in?”

He turned his wrist, glancing at the time. “That would be nice, little one.” He patted her head and walked to the stairs. At thetop of the landing, he turned, glancing down. “Master John is very taken with you.”

“Sir, may I ask a question?”

His eyes narrowed. “Not one you already know the answer to.”

His gaze held hers for an eternity, and she found the answer held within the fondness of his expression. He would miss her, which meant she would be leaving.

But what would happen to Forest? And when was her departure scheduled?

Elsbeth knockedon the door to Forest’s computer room. He hadn’t been in his bedroom, unusual for a boy who scheduled his sleep with religious zeal—or at least during those times when he was allowed to do so. Perhaps that explained his dogged determination to achieve a minimum of seven-point-five hours of sleep every night.

“Elz?” he called out.

Why he’d questioned who was knocking at his door surprised her. Clark Preston wouldn’t have bothered with the courtesy.

She pulled at the leather band encircling her neck. While she hated the collar, she did give a moment of thanks to Clark Preston for the well-crafted leather. It fit perfectly and stunned her in those rare moments when she forgot its presence.

“Forest?”

“Come in.”