Dollars

I wasn’t good with secrets. I wasn’t good with things I wanted but couldn’t have. I wouldn’t rest until I’d turned an inconsequential phone number into the truth.

“At least let me know the bill payer’s full name. I’ll do my own research seeing as you’re determined not to help.”

“Can’t give out personal information.”

“It’s an old account and of no value to you. If not the name, give me the address.”

She sighed dramatically. “Listen, like I just said. No can do.”

Goddammit, I hated technology. If I was in front of her, I could’ve subtly bribed her to give me what I wanted. With miles of ocean between us and a crackly phone line, I had no way of changing her mind. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

She chirped smugly, “Nope. Have a nice day.”

The dial tone buzzed in my ear as she hung up. That just fucked me off. I respected her doing her job but being rude was not permitted under any circumstances.

Bitch.

I slammed my satellite phone onto my desk and swiped over a holder of pens. “Fuck.”

It wasn’t often I came up against brick walls, but Pimlico was buried beneath them. I didn’t know her real name. I didn’t know the town she grew up in or any other details of her life. She’d poured her heart into her notes to No One but focused only on her time with Alrik. She never once mentioned a high school location or favourite club or activity. In fact, the only thing she did give a name to was Anne of Green Gables and her love of the show. I’d never seen it, but if it gave me clues…perhaps, I should?

Fuck, I don’t have time for this.

And who the hell cared? She was just a girl. A slave. What drew me to her so damn much?

You know why. She reminds you of—

I clutched my head, tugging on black hair to rid such stupid thoughts. I would find out who Pimlico was, and when I did, I’d figure out who was responsible for her capture and treatment. And if it turned out her mother was involved in her captivity, she would pay. Slowly. Painfully. I would make her feel every blow and kick Pimlico had endured.

I couldn’t find redemption for myself. But perhaps, I could find it for Pim.

But why?

There was that fucking question again.

Why do you care?

Why bother when I intended to keep her in the same role she’d been groomed for so many years? It wasn’t as if I would free her. I couldn’t. She knew too much about me already. The longer she was mine, the more incriminating knowledge she would have.

So once she’s fulfilled her purpose, you’ll trade her for something else that benefits you?

Why chase down her family and find out the truth if I had no intention of returning her to the life she’d been abducted from?

The answers danced on the back of my mind, elusive but teasing, letting me know I was more human than I wanted to admit. More in tune with broken things than I ever wanted to believe after what I’d done to my own family and the circumstances that followed.

Falling from grace and trading a home for homelessness had shaped me from kind to heartless. Ever since then, I didn’t give a shit about anyone else. Why should I? I was the cause of contamination.

Looking at my hands—the same hands that’d touched Pim and stolen her from her dead master—I snorted at how wealth had given me freedom but imprisoned my skills with more money than I could ever spend.

What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?

Where had the fun gone from stealing when I had everything I ever needed?

Not everything.

Growling under my breath, I shoved aside yet more traitorous thoughts.

Maybe that was why I wanted Pimlico’s secrets. Because if she turned out to be as bad as me, if she harboured some awful confession that meant she deserved her fate…then that would grant me peace.

Peace to stop butchering myself with guilt.

Relief that even a girl in torment wasn’t innocent.

Because if she wasn’t innocent, then it didn’t matter what I’d become.

And I could forget the shame that I could never shake.

CAWING OF SEABIRDS was my alarm clock, wrenching my gaze open to a scene I didn’t recognise.

Where am I?

Instantly, my heart buckled its running shoes and prepared to sprint, to hide. Where was the white? Where was the mansion where my blood was spilled daily? Where was Master—

He’s gone.

Dead.

You’re Elder’s now.

That knowledge scattered goosebumps over my arms, injecting me with adrenaline. Sitting up in the softest bed with the warmest blankets, I clutched the sheet to my naked chest as sunlight dappled the inviting space. Chocolate, cream, and lace were decadent reminders of who owned me now.

The gentle swaying spoke of a warm body of water beneath me rather than a cold mountain of dirt.

“Morning, miss.” A maid popped from the bathroom to my right, her arms full of the towels I’d used last night. I didn’t want her picking up my laundry. That was my task. Who was I to deserve to be waited on?

She gave me a gentle smile, scooping up my discarded nightgown from the floor.

The moment Elder left last night, I’d done what he’d suggested. I’d drawn a bath, and while the tub filled with lazy bubbles, I’d gazed out to sea, clutching my origami boat, wishing I could somehow turn it into a larger vessel and sail far, far away.

The kind generosity in which Elder treated me with weighed on me more and more. The kiss we’d shared. The way he’d watched me. His tattoo. His temper.