Ruelle watched Ezekiel bring the bowl of soup toward her, and her stomach turned over again. She could still feel the sting on her lower jaw from when he had grabbed her face. She said,
"I need cold milk. My stomach won't be able to digest without it."
Ezekiel stared at her, the spoon paused mid-air. He didn't blink. There was a patience in his eyes that frightened her more than his anger ever had, as though he had all the time in the world to wait for her to come around.
"It is good that I have everything prepared for you," Ezekiel said, and he smiled.
His smile was the worst part. It didn't belong on the face of someone who'd just killed people whom she held dear.
"One moment. I will be back."
He straightened before stepping away from the room and the darkness in the corridor swallowed him.
Ruelle didn't move at first. She didn't dare.
