requested information, but my dark memories threatened to suck me under if I was left on my own. My own will wasn’t strong enough to overcome the terror of my past, but Master’s will was.
“Yes,” I breathed, staring resolutely up into Master’s eyes. “There was another man.”
“Do you know his name?” Clayton asked.
I shook my head. He didn’t have a name. He didn’t even have a face.
“Keep your eyes closed, whore. If you look at me, I’ll make sure you never see anything again.”
I couldn’t suppress my shudder at the memory.
“He was just the Mentor,” I whispered. “I didn’t know his name.”
“‘The Mentor’?” Reed asked, puzzled. “Is that what he called himself?”
I shook my head again. “No. That’s just how I thought of him. Ma- that Bastard called him ‘Sir.’”
Master’s brow furrowed. “Why did you think of him that way, girl?” He asked. “Why ‘the Mentor’?”
I flinched as my skin crawled with remembered agony. Master waited, his hand squeezing my upper arm gently in encouragement.
“He…” I swallowed down the bile rising in the back of my throat. “He taught that Bastard how to hurt me. How to break me.”
My mind shied away from that. It brought me far too close to brushing against the woman I used to be before I had become a slave. I touched my fingers to my throat, half-expecting to find the cool weight of my iron collar.
Master’s handsome face was twisted into a furious mask. Once, I might have recoiled from that fierce expression, but now I understood that it wasn’t directed at me.
“Can you tell us what he looked like, Jane?” Clayton asked. “We can get you to talk to a sketch artist again.”
“I don’t know,” I replied softly, my voice strained. Nothing I said was of any use to them. I didn’t know anything important. All I knew was pain and abuse. I had no knowledge of anything else. “I’m sorry. He told me he would blind me if I looked at him.”
Despite Master’s warm presence, a pervasive cold had pulsed to life in my bones, emanating out through my muscles to make my flesh pebble. A fine tremor raced across my skin, and a moment of tense silence passed as the men absorbed my gruesome explanation.
When Clayton finally spoke again, his voice was tight with suppressed anger. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “That’s okay, Jane.” His tone resumed most of its usual cool surety. “Can you tell us what happened last night?”
Last night.
Spilled coffee mingling with blood.
Oh, god.
“Is Susan okay?” I asked quickly, my voice high with panic. I had been so determined to avoid the dark memories that I had forgotten about Susan.
“She’s going to be fine,” Clayton reassured me. “She has a concussion, but she’ll make a full recovery. But she doesn’t remember what happened last night. I need you to tell me. Can you do that for me, Jane?”
Yes. I could do that. Master had ordered me to answer Clayton’s questions.
“Susan left to get coffee,” I began quietly.
I was waiting for Master to return to me. I was so anxious without him there to watch over me.
And I had been right to be afraid. I wasn’t safe without Master by my side.
“She hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes when he came. I tried to fight him. He hit me.”
“You thought you could run from me?”
I wanted to bury the memory, but I closed my eyes, forcing myself to recall every detail. “He was wearing blue scrubs. When Susan came back and saw him, she thought he was an orderly. I begged him not to hurt her, and she realized who he was. She hit the nurse call button so help would come. I tried to hold him back, but he hit her. He realized people were coming, so he decided to leave me.”
“This cunt is mine. You’ll always belong to me.”
“He said he would come back for me. He said I belonged to him,”
“Yes,” I breathed, staring resolutely up into Master’s eyes. “There was another man.”
“Do you know his name?” Clayton asked.
I shook my head. He didn’t have a name. He didn’t even have a face.
“Keep your eyes closed, whore. If you look at me, I’ll make sure you never see anything again.”
I couldn’t suppress my shudder at the memory.
“He was just the Mentor,” I whispered. “I didn’t know his name.”
“‘The Mentor’?” Reed asked, puzzled. “Is that what he called himself?”
I shook my head again. “No. That’s just how I thought of him. Ma- that Bastard called him ‘Sir.’”
Master’s brow furrowed. “Why did you think of him that way, girl?” He asked. “Why ‘the Mentor’?”
I flinched as my skin crawled with remembered agony. Master waited, his hand squeezing my upper arm gently in encouragement.
“He…” I swallowed down the bile rising in the back of my throat. “He taught that Bastard how to hurt me. How to break me.”
My mind shied away from that. It brought me far too close to brushing against the woman I used to be before I had become a slave. I touched my fingers to my throat, half-expecting to find the cool weight of my iron collar.
Master’s handsome face was twisted into a furious mask. Once, I might have recoiled from that fierce expression, but now I understood that it wasn’t directed at me.
“Can you tell us what he looked like, Jane?” Clayton asked. “We can get you to talk to a sketch artist again.”
“I don’t know,” I replied softly, my voice strained. Nothing I said was of any use to them. I didn’t know anything important. All I knew was pain and abuse. I had no knowledge of anything else. “I’m sorry. He told me he would blind me if I looked at him.”
Despite Master’s warm presence, a pervasive cold had pulsed to life in my bones, emanating out through my muscles to make my flesh pebble. A fine tremor raced across my skin, and a moment of tense silence passed as the men absorbed my gruesome explanation.
When Clayton finally spoke again, his voice was tight with suppressed anger. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “That’s okay, Jane.” His tone resumed most of its usual cool surety. “Can you tell us what happened last night?”
Last night.
Spilled coffee mingling with blood.
Oh, god.
“Is Susan okay?” I asked quickly, my voice high with panic. I had been so determined to avoid the dark memories that I had forgotten about Susan.
“She’s going to be fine,” Clayton reassured me. “She has a concussion, but she’ll make a full recovery. But she doesn’t remember what happened last night. I need you to tell me. Can you do that for me, Jane?”
Yes. I could do that. Master had ordered me to answer Clayton’s questions.
“Susan left to get coffee,” I began quietly.
I was waiting for Master to return to me. I was so anxious without him there to watch over me.
And I had been right to be afraid. I wasn’t safe without Master by my side.
“She hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes when he came. I tried to fight him. He hit me.”
“You thought you could run from me?”
I wanted to bury the memory, but I closed my eyes, forcing myself to recall every detail. “He was wearing blue scrubs. When Susan came back and saw him, she thought he was an orderly. I begged him not to hurt her, and she realized who he was. She hit the nurse call button so help would come. I tried to hold him back, but he hit her. He realized people were coming, so he decided to leave me.”
“This cunt is mine. You’ll always belong to me.”
“He said he would come back for me. He said I belonged to him,”
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