"As you wish, mistress." Dylan ran upstairs. His footsteps were light. He didn't seem like someone suffering. He bounded up the stairs with an eagerness that didn't match the bruises painted across his face, like a child rushing to deliver good news.
Ava looked at him. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion but she shook the thought off. She thought maybe he was too eager to get away from Chloe's side, that's why he looked happy when he was told to call Alex. Or maybe, she thought with a flicker of doubt, he was just better at acting than the others. Her gaze lingered on the streaks of fake tears still glistening on his cheeks.
When she took a look at Dylan's wounds earlier, she confirmed they weren't fake. Even some of the wounds were producing pus. The sight had made her stomach turn, but she'd kept her face smooth, sympathetic. If they were really that battered, then Chloe had gone further than she thought.
