Chapter 2

Sloane's POV

A second later, he casually tossed the severed head onto the rug.

He did it with the ease of throwing away a used golf ball. The head rolled twice, coming to a stop just inches from my toes.

I kept my gaze fixed on empty space, fighting the violent wave of stomach acid rising in my throat.

"Looking for this, darling?"

His shoes squelched wetly over the bloodstained hardwood as he walked up to me, pressing the braille copy of Jane Eyre into my hands.

Then came his touch.

His large, warm hand cupped my cheek. A thick, scalding dampness smeared across my jawline. The smell of iron was overpowering. He even used his thumb—the exact thumb currently dripping with the blonde woman's blood—to gently stroke my bottom lip.

"Thank you, sweetheart," I said, stretching into a sweet, helpless smile. I squeezed the book so hard my nails dug into the hardcover. "I always feel safe when you're home."

Ten minutes later, Auden had changed into clean loungewear. He sat on the living room sofa, reading paragraphs from the book in his incredibly sexy, gravelly voice.

If I couldn't see the dried blood still caked under his fingernails, the scene would have been heartbreakingly domestic.

"Madam, sir. Dinner is served."

A sickeningly sweet voice interrupted the reading.

I didn't turn my head, but I caught everything out of the corner of my eye.

It was the maid, Ondine.

Her so-called "uniform" was unbuttoned to her stomach. She clearly wasn't wearing a bra. Her hands, painted with cheap red polish, provocatively toyed with her apron strings. She let her gaze sweep brazenly over the streak of blood still drying on my face, her lips curling into a mocking smirk.

"Thank you, Ondine," Auden said. He closed the book and stood up.

I thought he was going to the dining room.

He didn't. He walked straight up to her. I watched, trapped in silence, as she wrapped herself around him like a snake in heat—right there, in the middle of our brightly lit living room, completely in front of me.

He shoved his hand straight down her ridiculously low neckline, grabbing her forcefully.

Ondine threw her head back, but her eyes were fixed dead on me. She opened her mouth in open defiance, letting Auden bite and kiss her roughly.

They fell against the armchair by the door.

The friction of fabric. The sharp click of a belt buckle unfastening.

"Ugh... ah..."

Suppressed yet wet moans drifted through the room, accompanied by the loud, rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

My nails bit into my palms, nearly drawing blood.

"Auden?" I blinked my vacant eyes, shrinking back into the corner of the sofa, pretending to look terrified. "What's that sound? Is someone else in here?"

The thrusting didn't stop for a single second.

"It's nothing, darling," Auden replied. His voice was husky, his breathing much heavier than usual. I watched him thrust his hips forcefully while turning his head to smile softly at me. "It's just Ondine. She's so clumsy, she slipped and sprained her ankle."

Ondine, riding him, bit her lip hard. She forced out a fake, trembling voice over the sound of their impact. "Y-yes, madam. Mr. Hale is helping... ah... massaging my ankle. It hurts a bit..."

"Does a massage have to be that rough?" I asked timidly, waving my hands blindly in the air.

"It has to be, sweetheart. You have to really work out the bruise," Auden laughed, slapping her ass hard.

"Ah—!" Ondine let out a sharp cry, then lifted her hand and flipped me the middle finger.

A wave of indescribable revulsion hit my nervous system.

The slapping suddenly stopped.

Auden pushed Ondine off him. Zipping his pants, he walked over to me.

He stopped right in front of me, the tips of his leather shoes practically touching my toes. His long fingers suddenly clamped under my chin, forcing my face up.

His deep, ocean-blue eyes bored deeply into my unfocused pupils.

"Sloane." His voice was as cold as an icepick. "What's wrong with you? You can see, can't you?"

My heart stopped beating.

I threw my hands over my face, my shoulders visibly shaking.

"Auden, I'm blind! I don't know what it's like to be normal anymore! I feel like I'm just a burden to you..."

Tears burst out like a broken dam. I sobbed ugly, completely shedding my dignity, acting like an utterly broken, hysterical invalid.

A moment later, he wrapped me in a gentle, crushing embrace.

"Shh, baby, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry," Auden murmured, kissing my tear-stained cheeks, his tone melting instantly back into the flawless, devoted husband. "I just want you to get better so badly. Don't be afraid. I'll be your eyes forever."

Over his shoulder, I saw Ondine standing a few feet away, violently rolling her eyes in disgust.

At the dinner table, Ondine approached carrying an elegant silver tray. She placed a glass next to my hand.

"Madam, your nightly sleep-aid tonic."

"Thank you," I smiled.

But as I looked down, the blood froze in my veins.

The liquid in the expensive crystal goblet wasn't warm milk or herbal tea. It was a pale-yellow, sickly viscous fluid.

That color. That smell.

It was the exact same fluid I had just seen preserving dead women's eyeballs in his study.