Page 62 of Undying Resilience

“I’ll take you, princess.”

“He stays tied up,” Rhett says firmly.

She nods. “I’ll feed it to him.”

I lead her to Jordan’s room, unsure of what to say. Wren’s gripping the plate tightly, like maybe she doesn’t actually want to do this.

“Can you stay out here?” she says once we stop in front of the bedroom door.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“He’s tied up, right? I’ll call for you if I need you.”

“Princess...”

“I need to do this alone.”

“That’s the thing, Wren. You don’t have to do this. He didn’t feed you. You don’t owe him anything.”

“I need to do it for myself, O. Please let me.”

I don’t like it—in fact, I hate it—but Wren doesn’t look like she’s going to give in. So with a sigh, I unlock the door.

With a kiss on my cheek and a whispered thank you, she steps inside, gives me one last look, and closes the door.

Chapter eighteen

Wren

The second I close myself in the room, a chill runs down my spine. Maybe this is a bad idea.

I almost open the door again to tell Oliver I changed my mind, but Jordan’s burning glare freezes me in place. It’s like he’s holding me in front of that trough again, ready to deprive me of oxygen until my body shuts down.

“Your boyfriends said I wasn’t going to get any food,” he says bitterly. His voice puts me right back in that cellar.

Get it together, Wren. He can’t hurt you like this.

“They left it up to me,” I reply, lowering myself onto the bed. I use the fork to cut off a small piece of the omelette and then stab it.

“Why are you feeding me?” he demands. “Is that poisoned?”

“When I kill you, it’ll be the same way you intended to kill me.” I hold the fork in front of his mouth, ignoring his first question. He doesn’t need to know the answer. No one does except me.

I want Jordan to suffer. I want him to feel the same fear I felt, to dissolve into the same hopelessness that I did. But there’s a difference between him and me—at least, I’m trying to make sure there is. He’s the monster here. Not me.

I’ll make sure he knows what it feels like to have his entire body screaming for air. But I have to draw the line somewhere. Starving him feels a touch too inhumane.

Grudgingly, Jordan takes a bite. I feed him silently until he’s finished the whole thing. When he’s done, he glares at me.

“If you think this makes me feel bad for kidnapping you, it—”

“I don’t give a shit what you think,” I say, standing. “You’re not worth the energy.”

I leave before he can think of a response.

Oliver is waiting for me in the hallway. He’s pacing and wringing his hands. When he sees me, he lets out a relieved breath before taking me into his arms. “I don’t think you should go in there by yourself again.”

“I was fine.”