43. Ivan

Cherish has inevitably returned to her pile of towels on the floor.

It is the night before the Showcase. I should be resting and yet I cannot help constantly peering over the side of the bed. Like scratching an itch I keep checking she is still there, even though she is rolled over facing away from me. It physically hurts seeing that blonde hair of hers spilling out over the floor. She should be in bed with me, safe and warm.

/If you don’t make this right, you might never see or touch her again/ was the thought Kohl spun round and round. Unhelpful to say the least.

If I did manage to bring this whole system to its knees, to even execute Vincent, Kingsley and the rest of his cronies for their crimes what would it be for if I never saw her again?

Without thinking I thought out loud, my words cutting through the silence of the dark room “did you mean it, that you would have nowhere to go if you got out?”

She immediately rolled over, she'd pretending been to be asleep. I couldn't hel