"You'll be able to see her at all times. There are televisions in every room, each one tuned in to the camera monitoring her. You'll see that she is safe and unharmed, as long as you behave."
"Is that supposed to appease me?" she asked, anger dripping from every word. "You're holding her like a damn animal. Can she even breathe beneath that hood?"
He grinned, unfazed by the vehemence in her voice. "If she falls over dead, then I'll assume she couldn't." He paused, smiling more broadly in response to Alice's obvious distress. "However, since that hasn't happened yet, I believe it's safe to assume she can breathe just fine."
Forcing herself to calm down, Alice struggled to keep from staring at the television, from being a silent observer to her sister's pain and fear. "What happens if I don't behave? Will you kill us both?"
He chuckled, the sound cynical and cruel. "Death would be too easy, Alice. Killing you would mean I'd have to start all over. If you'd like to find out what happens with bad behavior, you're welcome to step out of line. I promise that you won't like the results. It'll only take one time to break you completely."
He was so confident in his statement that it elicited in her a need to rage, a heady desire to spit in his face and wipe the sadistic grin from his lips. Fear held no place inside her, only the scathing heat of her fury.
Had it been her alone, she would have given him every reason to punish her, would have taunted and pushed him to a point of no control in the hope that death would become her escape. But what could be gained from disobedience? Nothing except being an accessory and witness to her older sister's torture.
Left with no choice, Alice resigned herself to fate. Her voice weak with easy defeat, she asked, "What do I have to do?"
He studied her, his fingers steepled at his lips, a brow arrogantly lifted. "I'm pleased to hear you finally ask the proper question."
Self-loathing filled her, distaste for the submission she gave.
Standing from his chair, Max approached the couch to kneel down beside her, his shoulders shaking from soft laughter when Alice leaned away from his body. Meeting her gaze only for a moment, he turned his attention to her legs. His hands were hot against her skin as he unlocked the leg irons, the touch almost too much to bear on skin rubbed raw by chains.
Leaving her hands cuffed in front of her, Max grabbed Alice's arm to lift her to her feet. She wanted to shake away his touch, wanted to claw and bite like a rabid animal caged. The instinct to fight was a quivering beast inside her, only silenced and stilled when her eyes focused on the television screen.
Delilah. Weak, bound, and on display. How long had he kept her and how much had he broken her already?
There had to be another choice, a different avenue where they both could come out of this intact. They would never escape unscarred, but there was a chance they could escape with enough strength to survive.
Led back to the kitchen, Alice was directed to a barstool. "Sit. I'll cook tonight..."
Max leaned down, his warm breath rolled across her cheek on a cynical, mocking whisper. "...but only because you've already been through so much."
A gentle squeeze of her shoulder and he walked away, placing the center island between them.
Moving about the kitchen with the ease of a master chef, Max laid out ingredients on the counter. Unconcerned with what Alice might do, he placed a butcher's cleaver between them. She eyed the cleaver, her bound hands balling into fists in an attempt to resist reaching for it. It was so close and all she had to do was grab it.
"Tempting, isn't it?"
He glanced back at her, an arrogant tilt to his full lips. Wavy hair, black as a raven, hung loosely over one side of his face and concealed his scar. Alice swallowed down a knot in her throat, hating herself for thinking she'd be attracted to him in a different situation.
"The cleaver," he pointed out, tilting his chin in its direction. “It would be so easy to just grab it. To swing it in my direction."
He turned towards her fully and met her stare. "To kill me?"
Disgust rolled through her. "I wouldn't do that," she lied.
He grinned, a dimple indenting his cheek, the mark made darker by the shade of black stubble along his skin. "You're not that easy, Alice. Don't lie."
Wrapping his long, elegant fingers over the handle of the cleaver he picked it up off the counter, turning it in such a way that the light in the room flashed against the metallic blade. Spinning on his heel, he raised it shoulder height before bringing it down on the cutting board, embedding the blade into the wood.
The noise was a shock to Alice's already tense system, her entire body flinching as if that blade had been embedded into her body instead.