He stares at me for a long moment, and then he leans in close. “Don’t ever speak to me about this again.”

He turns and walks towards the door. Then he remembers the unconscious guard and storms into the bathroom. A moment later he comes out dragging him, and he shoves the guard into the hall. He’s about to leave, but I’m not done. He doesn’t get to run away anymore. I’m tired of this game. I want to know what this is all about; I need to piece this together.

So I hit him with what I know.

“You’re scared that I might not care?” I cry out. “You’re scared that maybe I can see the beauty beyond the scars? They don’t bother me, William. They wouldn’t bother the other girls, either.”

He stiffens at the door, spins around and storms in, taking my shoulders and shaking me angrily.

“One thing I despise is a liar. No one loves a beast, Number Thirteen, and if you ever lie to me again, you will regret it.”

Then he lets mThepise go and charges out of the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

WILLIAM

“It’s been well over a week, sir, are you sure you don’t want to see one of them?”

I face the window in my room, staring out at the girls in the yard. They’re playing volleyball. Another reward for doing everything they’ve been told to do.

“I’m not interested,” I growl, clenching the windowsill with my fingers.

“Is something wrong?”

I spin around, snapping, “Nothing is wrong, I just have no interest in seeing them.”

“I understand, sir, I apologize.”

I nod briskly, and return to my seat. He doesn’t get it. No one does. She saw me. She saw the ugliness that lies behind the mask. She saw the monster. She’s seen a part of me I can’t take back. She’s changed how all this is meant to go. No one was ever meant to see me. This isn’t how I planned it. My control is being ripped away from me.

“You are still doing the dinner party tomorrow night for your father, yes?”

“Yes. Get the girls onto the menus.”

“Are you having them serve?”

I think about how that went last time, and decide that I’ll give the girls another chance to prove themselves. It has nothing to do with wanting to see her again.

“Yes, the same girls as last time.”

“Yes sir.”

“Is that all?” I mutter.

“Yes.”

He’s gone before I can say anything else. I walk back over to the window and stare down at Number Thirteen. She’s laughing as she dives for the ball. She’s growing happy, she’s learning that I’m here to protect her. They all are. But she knows who I am know; she knows what I am. She tried to tell me it didn’t matter to her.

Liar.

“She is growing up now,” I hear him mutter. “She’s starting to get those tiny hairs on her pussy. I guess it’s time I move on to her little sister.”

My stomach coils. No, not Lanthie. He can’t hurt her like he tries to hurt me. I can’t ever let that happen.

I stare down at my body. I’m blossoming now. I have tiny bumps for breasts, and he’s right, I am growing funny hairs down there. He doesn’t like the hair, and if he doesn’t like the hair, he will hurt my sister. I can’t let him do that.

I run into the bathroom, and I take a razor.

I won’t let him hurt her.

I wake panting with my hand pressed over my heart.

Another dream.

I sit up slowly, and capture my head in my hands. They’re coming more and more now, and I think it’s because we’re not seeing the hypnotist as much anymore. Some nights, we’re even left to sleep without our milk. He’s allowing us trust; he’s allowing us to settle so we can remember who we are. He’s doing it slowly, though, he’s careful.

I don’t like what I’m remembering.

Yet it’s still not enough to piece anything together.

I throw my legs over the side of t th like whathe bed and tiptoe to the doors. They’re not locked now, but it doesn’t matter—we still couldn’t escape. The entire property is secured. I step out and into the hall, and I make my way down to the library. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I come down here and I read. It soothes me. It helps me to sleep. When I reach it, I wrap my fingers around the handle and slowly push it open.

The minute I step in, I realize I’m not alone.

At the window, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms, is William. He’s staring out, silently. His hands are by his side, and his back is illuminated in the moonlight shining through the glass. I open my mouth and take a ragged, deep breath. He looks...breathtaking. I can see every muscle in his back. I can see the way they run off his broad shoulders and narrow down to his hips. His skin is flawless, and lightly bronzed. I take a step closer, and the floor squeaks.

William turns slowly, and I see he’s not wearing his patch. Seeing his face again, seeing the damage there, has my heart aching once more. I’ve already figured someone hurt him; it explains why he needs this kind of control, and it also explains his need to help other broken people. He was helpless to help himself, but it hasn’t stopped him from being able to heal others.

My heart softens just a touch more towards him.

I let my gaze travel over him, staring at his face. His long, dark hair is falling loosely around his shoulders, and he’s got a hard expression on his face. His jaw is tight and his body is rigid. I let my eyes move lower, staring at his beautifully defined chest. Cords of muscle form some of the most defined abs I’ve ever seen. His pants sit low on his hips, allowing me to see how his abdomen trails down, making a V shape.