My cruel words finally snapped him out of his memories and his soft sentiments, whatever they were, and his face hardened back into its usual detached mask.

   “You’re the one who’s tied to a chair, Gin. Not me. I’d say that you’re the prisoner here.”

   I shook my head, deliberately making my freshly dyed blond hair fly around my shoulders. “Nah. I’m not a prisoner. I don’t take orders from anyone; you can’t say the same. I’m my own person, but you’ll never be that again.”

   Tucker’s eyes glittered, and I saw the silent agreement in his black gaze. He shrugged his shoulders, not quite dismissing my words. “Either way, one good thing has come out of all of this.”

   “What’s that?”

   He flashed me a smile, showing off the fangs that glinted in his mouth. “You won’t be a thorn in my side anymore.”

   I gave him an amused look. “Why? Because you think that Rivera and Porter are actually going to kill me? Think again, pal.”

   His smile widened, and his black eyes warmed just the faintest bit. “You have your mother’s confidence—and her stubbornness too.”

   It was by far the nicest thing he’d ever said to me, but anger spiked through me at his words. He made it sound like some sort of shortcoming on her part, and mine too. “I know.”

   “Yes, you do know, don’t you?” he murmured. “And sadly, little Genevieve, it’s going to be the death of you, just like it was for her.”

   I started to ask him what he meant, but Tucker gave me another long, measuring look, then opened the door and left me behind.

   • • •

   Tucker stepped onto the porch and out of my line of sight, although he left the door open behind him. A few seconds later, more footsteps creak-creak-creaked on the wood. Rivera and Porter must have come back from wherever they’d gone and rejoined the vampire on the porch.

   “Kill her,” Tucker ordered in a clear, strong voice that carried into the cottage. “And try to get it right this time. I’m tired of cleaning up your messes, Damian.”

   I heard more footsteps, heading for the far end of the porch. After a few seconds, the footsteps faded away, as if Tucker had stepped off the porch and out into whatever landscape lay beyond. And I realized that the vampire was leaving. He was actually leaving without killing me.

   Tucker was no fool. I wasn’t a scared little girl stumbling around the woods like I had been the night of my mother’s murder. He knew exactly how dangerous I was and that I would fight until my very last breath. But instead of ending me himself, he’d walked away and left the job up to Rivera and Porter. If there was one thing that I knew about Tucker, it was that he always had a reason for his actions, no matter how twisted they were. Hmm.

   The other two men stepped back inside.

   Rivera glanced over at me, making sure that I was still securely tied up, and took another long hit from his silver flask. He held it up to his ear and shook it, but the container was empty. His nostrils flared with anger that his precious booze was already gone.

   “I need a refill,” he growled. “You heard Tucker. Kill her. And be quick about it. It won’t be long before her friends realize that she’s still on the property and come back searching for her.”

   Still on the property? So we were still on the Rivera estate. But where? I’d reviewed every single inch of the grounds when I’d been planning to break into Rivera’s office, and Porter’s caretaker cottage had been the only one clearly marked on the property. So where was this second cottage located? I didn’t know, but fresh hope filled me. All I had to do was get out of my bonds and out of the cottage. Once I was outside, I could figure out exactly where I was and escape. Then I would find my friends, and we would come back here together, finish what we’d started, and put these bastards in the ground for good.

   “Of course,” Porter murmured in a neutral tone, more than accustomed to dealing with Rivera’s drunken demands.

   Rivera rolled his eyes, knowing that he was being handled. He stomped out of the cottage and slammed the door shut behind him. He crossed the porch, and the sound of his staggering footsteps faded away. No doubt Rivera was on his way back to his mansion to get his much-needed refill and drink the rest of the night away.

   That left me alone with Bruce Porter.

   I thought that he might immediately come over and start beating me, as both Tucker and Rivera had ordered. I tensed, ready to reach for my Ice and Stone magic and use it to blast right out of my chair and the ropes still tying me down.

   But Porter had other plans. He grabbed one of the chairs from the kitchen table, brought it over, and put it down directly across from me. He sat down, leaned back, and made himself comfortable. Once he was settled, he looked at me and smiled.

   And just like that, the Dollmaker finally revealed his true self.

   Oh, Porter looked exactly the same as before. Gunmetal-­gray hair cropped close to his skull, pale blue eyes, deep lines grooved into his ruddy skin, strong, compact, muscular body in a dark, subdued suit.

   But from one second to the next, his entire demeanor changed.

   Gone was the dour, serious head of security, the man who stood quietly in the background and waited for others to tell him what to do. Now his eyes were brighter, his smile wider, his posture far more natural and relaxed. He looked . . . happy.

   No, I realized, not happy. Giddy—giddy that he was about to act out his sadistic dream yet again.

   Well, I hoped he enjoyed it, because his dream was quickly going to turn into the worst fucking nightmare of his life.

   “Now we can finally get started,” Porter chirped in a high, almost manic voice that was completely different from his usual soft tone. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a special guest here. You can imagine how excited I am.”

   “Oh, yeah,” I drawled. “It’s been less than a week since you kidnapped a woman, dolled her up, brought her here, and beat and strangled her to death. Can’t imagine how you’ve lasted so long without all of that.”