Page 38 of Chained

"What is this place?"

He shifts on the stool, grunting as he crosses his arms across his chest. They rest on his stomach as his hands move to stroke his beard.

"The manor has been home to the Reigns for hundreds of years, passed down through generations." He starts to speak, and I move closer, wanting to make sure I don't miss a single word. Everything he tells me tonight I can keep stored in my mind, anything useful I can use as a weapon when I need it.

"Vincent came into possession four years ago, after the death of his father."

"How did he die?"

"Cancer…well. That's what we were told at least."

I watch as he shifts; he doesn't believe it. Neither do I, honestly.

"What about his mother?" I lean on my elbows that dig into my thighs.

"Ah, pet. We shouldn't discuss her…" He begins to chew his thumbnail, pausing.

"Why? What happened to her?"

I'm being pushy, I can hear it in my voice, and I can see it by the way his face changes after my rapid-fire of questions. But he doesn't stop answering; maybe he wants me to know. Maybe it's his way of warning me.

"Nobody really knows. I only ever saw her once—" He wipes away a bead of sweat, his tone lower, like he's telling me his darkest secrets. "Was a summer night, she was running through the rose gardens with the children. She looked wild, white dress stained red, hair a mess. I'd never seen anything like it."

"What happened next?" I almost ask, but he's already giving me so much just by answering my questions. I don't want him to stop.

"No one really knows. Some say she died when the Reigns children were young. Some say she's locked away somewhere."

Another woman hidden in the manor, locked away from everyone. My eyes drop to the floor.

"You never met her?" I frown. The thought of another woman being held somewhere within these walls should fill me with something, but I'm not surprised by it. Nothing surprises me anymore.

"Not besides that one day in the garden from afar. She looked…" he pauses, "unstable."

I repeat his word back to him, questioningly. "Unstable?"

He nods. "But what do I know? I'm not a psychologist." He laughs slightly, his stomach jiggling as he does.

"What about Ace?" The sound of my own question surprises me. I don't know why I'm thinking of him, I don't know why I'm asking, either. Maybe it's the fact I still feel the way our bodies fit so perfectly, or the way his heart was beating in time with mine.

No. It's a curiosity. That's all it is. That's all it can be.

He scoffs, his face turning in disgust. "Nothing but trouble, that one."

I raise a brow. Trouble?

"Oh?"

"He came here when he was a kid. Archie never kept one so young before, but he was convinced he could make him into something useful." John's eyes darken a little with the memory. "But all he turned him into was a psychotic fucking killer."

"He kills people?" My voice breaks.

No. This can't be right. I saw it in his eyes after Hailee. The hurt, the pain. You can't fake that.

"He's the Order's personal executioner. It's his job," John grunts again. "If you want to live, girl, I'd recommend keeping well away from that one."

I swallow hard, closing my eyes, trying to blink away the fear. But then I see his face, his sad eyes, the way his hand held my arm a little softer than the others.

I lie on the mattress alone. John left a while ago, muttering something about a break, but I didn't quite hear. The material scratches at my skin every time I turn. My eyes ache, but I can't sleep. So, I just look up at the ceiling with my hands clasped together on my chest.