The next morning, Eva pushed the breakfast cart into the master suite. Her thumb was wrapped in a thick bandage.
The room was dim. Alek was still in bed, tangled in the gray sheets. He was muttering something in his sleep, his brow furrowed in distress.
Eva set the coffee cup on the nightstand. Clink.
Alek's eyes flew open.
In a blur of motion, his hand shot out. He grabbed her wrist.
He grabbed the injured hand.
Eva let out a muffled cry of pain as his fingers squeezed the bandage.
Alek blinked, the fog of sleep clearing. He saw her face. He looked down at his hand crushing her injury.
He didn't let go.
He yanked her forward. Eva lost her balance, falling against the side of the mattress.
Alek sat up. The sheet fell to his waist. His chest was bare, defined muscle moving with his heavy breathing.
"Why didn't you move?" he rasped, his voice thick with sleep.
Eva pointed to her throat with her free hand. I can't.
Alek scoffed. He released her wrist, but immediately reached up and grabbed her chin. He pulled her face close to his.
"There was a hair on my pillow," he lied. His eyes searched hers. "Sloppy."
Eva stared back. The pillowcase was fresh. He just wanted a reason to touch her.
His hand slid down from her jaw. His fingers wrapped around her neck, not choking, but resting. His thumb pressed against her carotid artery.
He closed his eyes.
Eva held her breath. Her heart was racing, pounding against his fingertips. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Alek kept his eyes closed. He seemed to be drinking in the rhythm of her fear.
"Fast," he whispered. "Like a little bird flying into a window."
Eva felt bile rise in her throat. She stood rigid, forced to endure his touch.
Alek's eyes snapped open. They were clear now, sharp and cold.
"Are you cursing me in that head of yours, Eva?"
Eva averted her gaze.
Alek pushed her away abruptly, as if she had burned him.
"Draw my bath," he ordered, turning away. "And get out."
Eva stumbled back. She rushed into the bathroom, her legs shaking.
She turned the faucets on full blast. The water roared into the massive stone tub.
She gripped the edge of the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. Hate burned in her chest, hot and purifying.
Ring.
Alek's phone.
Eva reached out and turned the water flow down, just enough to hear.
"Dr. Evans," Alek's voice floated in from the bedroom. It was different. Respectful. Desperate.
"Is the team ready?"
Pause.
"I don't care about the cost. I want the best. The vocal cord reconstruction... yes."
Eva froze.
"She needs to speak again," Alek said. "Fix it. Whatever it takes."
Eva gripped the sink until her knuckles turned white.
He wasn't talking about Arvo or Britt. The specificity... vocal cord reconstruction. A cold dread washed over her. He suspected. This wasn't about fixing someone; it was about exposing her. Or worse, ensuring her silence was permanent, carved into her throat with a surgeon's blade.
Hypocrite. Monster.
She turned the water back up, drowning out his voice, drowning out the terror.
