The Key to My Hart

Chapter 30

I woke with the sense that there was another presence in the room with  me. Dread froze my lungs, and I momentarily forgot how to breathe. Then my memories of what happened came flooding back. Peter was dead. I had killed him, but Angel was dead, too.

My eyes shot open at the hesitant footstep in my direction. "I really want to be hallucinating right now, but I know there's no way in hell my brain would conjure you up." I sneered at the man standing before me.

Ethan smirked. "Well, you've really gotten yourself into a pickle now. Bonds look good on you, Hart. Maybe we should keep them there."

I attempted to kick out my free leg, but I couldn't move. I had expended all of my energy into the kick that killed Peter. Ethan chuckled at my helplessness.

"Why are you even here? Do you intend to finally kill me?" I was already starting to lose consciousness again.

"I'm considering it. Now... what happened here?" He gestured to the bodies. Rigor mortis had already set in, and there was a faint smell of decay. I must have been unconscious for an entire day.

"What the fuck does it look like?" I snapped, having lost patience for this man a long time ago.

He stood over Angel's body. "Shame. I did like her, you know."

I rolled my eyes, not looking over there. "You barely knew her."

"Maybe." Then he turned to Peter. "I'm going to assume he's the one who did this to her. And by the sight of your one free leg, I'm sure you did this to him."

I watched him while he studied the cracks in the wall, running his fingers along them. He stood and slowly approached me. There was something... off... about the way he moved. The way he looked at me. It wasn't with hate. It was... curiosity and a bit of sorrow.

"I don't need your pity." The words left my mouth before I realized I voiced them.

"Oh but I think you do." He gave a side smile and a dimple appeared. Had he always had a dimple? "If I approach you, will you attack me?"

I chewed on the inside of my lip. This may be my last shot at freedom, but Ethan had tried to kill me on multiple occasions. "I don't trust you, but I also don't have the energy to attack you."

That smile and dimple returned. He moved around the table and worked the gadget to lie it flat. I moaned in pain and relief as my weight was taken off my ruined arms.

"I'm afraid to move these knives. You may bleed out." He eyed the one in my arm. "It looks like your skin has already healed around it."

"Are you really Ethan or some sort of mysterious twin brother?" I demanded. Not once had he called me a bitch or a whore. He had yet to attack or molest me.

Ethan shrugged and made some sort of noncommittal sound. Without warning, he yanked one of the blades free. A shout erupted from me before I could clamp down on the noise. He tossed the knife to the side, and watched with fascination as my skin knitted itself back together.

A surprised and smug smile appeared, but he didn't say anything as he proceeded to yank the rest free. The last one he grabbed was the Damascus hunting knife. Before he could toss it to the side with the others, I called out.

"Not that one. I want to keep that one."

"Why would you want to keep a device that was used to torture you?" He eyed me like I was the crazy one.

"It's a good knife." I muttered.

Ethan shook his hand and grabbed its sheathe. He went about unbuckling all the leather straps. I moved my left hand and sighed at the scars from where I had been bound. My right arm wouldn't move. I groaned in pain trying to bring it closer to my body.