I slip to my knees onto the floor, turning so my back rests against the bed. I draw my knees up, feeling his seed spill out of me.

He tucks himself back into his pants, murderous eyes on me. That fuck did nothing to dispel his hate. He comes to crouch down in front of me and takes my jaw in his death grip.

“You steal what I don’t give, and you will be made to pay.”

I try to jerk out of his grasp, but he just tightens his hold on me. I wonder how much more pressure before my jaw breaks.

“Do you know what the difference is between me and you, Ivy?”

“What?” I spit.

“I know I am hated. I don’t care. I use it as a strength. You? You care. Hate steals your strength. My hate of you weakens you. Makes a pathetic victim out of you.”

I swallow, shuddering in this arctic chill of his hate as I stare up at him.

“You think you will ever win against me?” he asks.

“No, Santiago, I don’t.” That must surprise him because I swear there’s a momentary flash of confusion in his eyes. I don’t think he expected that answer or any answer. “I have no doubt you will beat me. No doubt you will bury me.” As I say the words, I know they’re true, and they feel like a weight in the pit of my stomach.

We stay like that for a long moment just looking at each other. And then, without a word, he releases me and gets up. He turns to the door.

“I won’t beg you for mercy,” I call out when he opens it.

He stops and turns around.

“And I will never stop fighting you,” I add.

He grins, walking back inside, and the look on his face is that of a victor as if he’s already won. He comes close, so close the tips of his shoes press against my bare toes. It makes me think of the bones of the dead mice in that cellar. How they crunched underfoot.

He leans down and brushes his knuckles over my cheekbone so gently that it takes all I have not to lean into his touch. Not to close my eyes and take comfort in him.

He chuckles. He must see it. And he straightens to his full height, looming over me like the shadow he is.

“I hope you won’t ever stop fighting because I will enjoy breaking you bit by bit.”

11

Santiago

"Antonia said you wanted to see me as soon as I got home."

I blink up at my sister in the doorway of my study, eyes bleary. I'm not even sure what time it is, but it seems late.

"Where have you been?" I demand.

She crosses her arms and shrugs. "Shopping."