Chapter Thirty
I don’t feel anything while I’m nestled in Gabriel’s large bed. Not hunger. Not pain. Definitely not horror at what my biological father did to me. And that’s how I want to stay.
There’s a flicker of relief when Anders comes in. Alive.
He has the black bag with him, which he sets down on the bed. “You must be surprised to see me?” he says, a glint in his ice-blue eyes. “Disappointed I didn’t bleed out on the stairs.”
I’m not sure how much more death I can handle. None, really.
“Gabriel says you aren’t talking. I don’t suppose you’ll whisper something to me. He would be incredibly jealous. Imagine how fun that would be?”
His words have to travel the cottony padding of my mind before reaching me. Disappointment flashes on his face before he flips open the bag. “If you wo
