Juliette raised an eyebrow. “How romantic.”
“He loved her though,” Maraveet went on, quieter now. “Said it never made sense how someone so small could be so dangerous. I was seven when they died. The last thing they ever said to me was, Be a good girl for your aunt and uncle, Mara. Mommy and Daddy will be home before you know it. Never saw them again. But I had Killian’s parents and I loved them just as much so it wasn’t too bad. Callum ran my father’s company until the day I was old enough to take over.”
“How did your parents know each other?” she asked.
Maraveet grunted as she tried to shift into a more comfortable position. “Callum’s family has always been in the import-export business. They own several large ports over land, sea, and air. My mother used to use him to move things. Somehow, she met Saoirse McClary and the two became best friends.”
Juliette peered down at her knees. She drew them up and wound her arms around them.
“What’s your sister like?” Maraveet asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” Juliette said softly. “I spent the better part of sixteen years wishing she didn’t exist.”
“Why?”
Juliette picked at the fur around the tops of her boots. “Because I was an awful person before my mom died. Actually, I was an awful person even after she died, but before that, it was all about me. For seven years, I was the center of my parent’s world and I loved it. When Vi was born, I hated her for taking the spotlight away. I was terrible to her. Never gave her the time of day. When Mom got sick, I couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t be anywhere near her while she deteriorated and faded away. I started to spend all my time with my friends and my boyfriend. I stayed away from home as much as possible, never realizing that Dad was doing the same, leaving Vi alone to take care of Mom during some of the worst of it. By the time I realized we were losing Dad too, Mom was in the hospital. I left school, got a job, and continued to stay as far away from Vi and Dad and home as possible.”
“Why?” The question was asked so low, Juliette almost didn’t hear it.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess a part of me hated her for not having to deal with any of the stuff I did. She was just some kid. She didn’t understand. But I was now responsible for her so I did what I thought she needed, a home, food, clothes … school. I worked and tried to keep us surviving day by day. Then Dad was killed and Arlo showed up on our front porch, so I did what I thought was right and protected her from it. When she started acting out, I thought she was just being a spoiled little bitch, ungrateful and just…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “It never dawned on me that maybe she was just lonely and acting out was the only way she could get my attention.” She paused to give a quiet chuckle. “I don’t even know what kind of person that makes me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Maraveet murmured quietly. “It’s what you do after this that makes the difference.”
Juliette snorted to distract herself from the lump in her throat. “You mean if we ever get out of here?”
“We will,” Maraveet said with that same unwavering confidence. “I know my brother and I know he won’t ever stop looking for you.”
Juliette shook her head. “I don’t know. He made it very clear that I wasn’t anything more than a passing amusement.”
“He gave you his mother’s pendent,” Maraveet cut in. “Do you think he gives that kind of stuff away to just anyone?”
Instinctively, her hand went to the bare skin at her throat and her throat muscles tightened even further.
“He said such terrible things,” she whispered.
Maraveet sighed. “Probably to keep you from falling into this sort of situation,” she mumbled. “He knew you wouldn’t leave otherwise.”
He would have been right, Juliette thought miserably. She would have stayed with him forever if he’d asked her to.
Juliette opened her mouth to tell the other woman as much when the door opened with a distinct pop of air pressure being released. The sound never failed to close abusive hands around her throat. Her spine prickled with awareness and she edged even closer to the wall.
In the cage over, Maraveet never moved. She didn’t speak either. Juliette wondered if her eyes were open, but couldn’t bring herself to care as scuffed boots began their descent. Jean clad legs appeared, then the wiry build of the man who brought them food. There was no tray in his grasp, which usually meant he’d been sent to retrieve one of them. Juliette prayed it wouldn’t be Maraveet. They’d only just brought her back.
The man was younger than the others. Clean cut and dressed in jeans and a black sweater, he could have passed for handsome or mildly attractive in that unmemorable sort of way. He wasn’t someone she would offer a second glance, but compared to the other three men, he was practically a model with his shortly cropped cap of sandy brown hair and matching eyes. At his hip, the keyring jingled with every cruel stride forward.
“Boss wants to see you,” he said, stopping at Juliette’s door and idly flipping through the ring. He found the key he was looking for and jammed it into the lock. “Got big plans.”
The bar door swung open and he stepped aside in clear indication. Juliette shuffled to her feet. She cast a nervous glance towards Maraveet, who hadn’t moved a muscle before edging her way towards the man waiting. He said nothing, but he grabbed her arm once she was close enough, even though she wasn’t struggling. Juliette practically had to run to keep up.
The change never failed to disorientate her. It was an entirely different world from the one she’d been held captive in. Topside, everything was bright and beautiful. The colors were vibrant, the textures intense and captivating, a huge difference from the dull steel she was quickly becoming accustomed to. But it was the smell that made Juliette want to cry. It was the crisp scent of winter, the decadent aroma of warm, melted butter and fried meat lathered in spices and clean. God, it smelled so clean. Yet despite all that, she would rather be in the cage with Maraveet—or home—than be upstairs with men who eyed her as though she were a prized cattle for the slaughter. Their attention crawled along her grimy skin, making her want to dive back downstairs and lock herself in. Her captor’s grip on her elbow tightened. Maybe he sensed her desires.
She was propelled across the plush carpet to the sitting area made up just beneath the spiraling stairs. The two sofas and two arm chairs cluttered the space, but no one seemed to mind. Four figures were already there, waiting for her. Juliette had eyes for only one.
“Hello Juliette.”
The voice was as soft and beautiful as its owner. Juliette didn’t recognize him. He barely looked out of his early twenties with skin so white, he could almost be translucent and hair the downy white-gold of corn silk. It framed an elven face with a tapered chin and high cheekbones and lidded eyes the crystal blue of a clear, summer sky. He reminded her of an animation, too perfect to be real, too clean. Way too clean to be sitting surrounded by men who looked like they couldn’t tell a bar of soap from a brick. Every line was flawlessly proportioned. He had the slender build of a pubescent child draped in an expensive suit the exact metallic gray as the sheets bolted around her cage. There was a baby pink dress shirt beneath the blazer and white loafers on his feet. She could just make out a hint of skin between the hem and the expensive bit of leather to notice he wasn’t wearing socks. He sat regally with long legs crossed beneath a gold halo of the light spilling from above. In the surrounding darkness, he could have passed for an angel.
Eyes hooded lazily from a face lax with comfort lifted and fixed on her with that same arrogant, amused glint he’d given her the first time.
“How are you?”
People like him and Arlo liked asking that question when they knew perfectly well that they were the ones inflicting the pain and hearing it made them feel powerful and in control. She also knew that he didn’t really care one way or another how she really was. She opted to say nothing at all.