I almost laughed at that last thought, drained the second bottle of water, and sat back, feeling better for having eaten. When was the last time I’d had something warm? How long had I been here, and how long had Victor kept me prisoner before turning me over to Death? How long ago had Mateo died?

For five more meals, the man with the beady black eyes came, checked that I’d eaten everything, took the trash and left me with new food. By the third delivery, I started to ask questions: what day it was, what time, where was Death? He never answered a single one. It seemed we were getting on a regular schedule, though, with the meals. Maybe two in a twenty-four-hour period? I couldn’t be sure, but I was starving between them.

The delivery of the seventh meal changed everything. Just as I was starting to get more comfortable, even considering using my fork to do the very thing he warned me not to do, everything changed.

That was when Death returned.

He came when I was sleeping. It was night. No sunlight penetrated the slats of wood over the windows. I woke to find him inside the room, standing at the foot of the bed, watching me. I startled, screamed, and scrambled as close to the top of the bed as I could, the blanket bunched up in my arms, a barrier between him and me.

He wore his mask again. It took me a minute, but I knew it was him. I knew it from his body, from the way he moved. It was as though he screamed power.

“Didn’t meant to startle you.”

His voice mocked me. He walked around the bed, and it took all I had not to scream again, not to run to the other side of the room to get away from him. He’d changed. He was different. He was cocky, a bastard, like in the very beginning.

“We’re changing how we do things.”

He took hold of the blanket and tugged it from me. I fell forward and had to release my hold on the one thing that gave me comfort. But maybe it was good he took it. It gave me a false sense of security. As if somehow, everything would be okay. It would never be okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. How could I ever think it would? How could I ever think I could seduce him? That I could somehow win him over, make him want me enough that he didn’t take me to the auction but would instead keep me for himself? That he would help me avenge my brother’s murder?

“I heard you’ve been eating, doing as you’re told.”

I didn’t answer, I couldn’t. I just watched him, my gaze glued to that fucking mask as he folded up the blanket and set it on the chair in the corner.