Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“OZONE” BY CHASE ATLANTIC
AERON
Fuck.
FUCK!
My mind spins and whirls as I try to figure out what the ever-loving fuck we’re going to do. How do we protect her?
The call ends, and for just a moment, one small millisecond, I close my eyes and breathe, my fists clenching and unclenching by my sides.
“Please,” I rasp, my pained whisper loud in the quiet. “Please, Dove, tell us where the Dead Soldier’s HQ is.”
I open my eyes, my heart sinking when I see her trembling body, but the fire in her eyes tells me she won’t give us what we need to keep her safe. Not yet.
“You know my price, Devil Man,” she says back, and fuck, I fall harder at her stupid fucking strength that underlines every word, even if I know that she’s terrified.
“Rook,” I answer, heaving a great sigh. “I can’t promise his safety, Dove. Anything else I might be able to do, but to leave the heir to your father’s kingdom alive is fucking foolish. Signing our death warrants.”
She straightens her spine, letting go of my brother’s and Knox’s hands as she steps away from them.
I can see Knox shut down, his face going hard, but he can’t hide the agony in his eyes.
As our punisher, this will be worse for him than the rest of us.
Tarl too. Jude looks fucking devastated, his shoulders curling as she walks around the island towards me.
She whips Knox’s shirt over her head and lets it drop to the ground, leaving her beautiful body naked and exposed.
“Then we understand each other perfectly.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and it takes everything inside me not to drop to my knees and fucking beg her not to make us do this.
Not to make us hurt her. We stare at each other, my jaw working as my breaths claw in through my nose, my brain fucking failing to give me any other options.
“It’s okay, Devil Man. It was a beautiful dream, but people like us don’t get to live in dreamland for too long,” she says quietly, reaching out to cup my cheek in her soft palm, and I clench my teeth so hard that I feel my jaw crack.
She’s too good for us, and how she ended up being so astounding living under Rufus fucking Jackson’s roof is beyond me.
A knock sounds in the warehouse, making her flinch, and my body instinctively moves as if to protect her. A fucking joke considering it’s us she needs protection from.
“Tarl, Knox, take her downstairs,” I order, my tone strained and the words hurting as they pass my lips.
“But—” Knox starts, and I snap my gaze to him, daring him to argue. He bares his teeth, the skin around his eyes tightening as he glares at me. I’ll welcome his anger later. For now, I just need him to do as I fucking tell him. I can’t deal with mutiny now.
“Come, Koshgelam,” Tarl says, swallowing visibly as he comes to take hold of Dove’s bicep.
She leans forward, pressing a soft kiss on my lips before she allows him to lead her away, towards the basement, Knox following them. The ghost of her lips burns, and a raging inferno swirls inside me, my fucking soul at war with itself.
“Brother” Jude begs, and the glisten of unshed tears makes his eyes truly look as deep as the ocean.
“She’s made her decision,” I tell him, another loud knock at the front door sounding like a death knell. I take a deep inhale, turn my back on him, and head to the door, my steps feeling like the thud of nails going into a coffin.
I just wonder who's going to be buried.
“RUNNING UP THAT HILL (A DEAL WITH GOD)” BY LOVELESS
LARK
The cold of the basement causes goosebumps to pebble on my skin, my nipples hardening despite the fact that I feel no arousal. Fear makes my body tremble and quake, but I try to remain calm, knowing that nothing can change the impasse we’ve come to.
“Little Bird,” Knox says as we step into the room, my glass coffin still in one corner, the cross in the other. There are more shapes and dark shadows under cloths that line the room, and I ponder which they will use on me first. “Lark! Fucking look at me!”
A strong hand wraps around my upper arm, tearing me away from Tarl and suddenly Knox’s beautiful ruggedness fills my vision, his motor oil, cloves, and leather scent enveloping me. His eyes are wild, the whites showing around the hazel irises, bright with panic.
“Please, baby. Just tell us what we need to know, and we can go back upstairs.”
My body softens in his hold, and the need to sink into his warmth, to give him what he’s asking is so strong that I have to take a deep, steadying breath.
“What would you do to keep Tarl safe?” I ask in reply, his brows furrowing.
“To keep Jude alive? Aeron?” I watch as his lips press together in a hard line, his mouth opening only to close a second later.
“That is why I can’t just tell you, Knox.
I need a guarantee of Rook’s safety. I can’t settle for any less. He’s all I have left.”
“Rook may be my only heir, Lark, but my crown doesn’t have to go to my blood. Brings those boys in and Rook will get to wear it. Don’t and…” My sperm donor’s words from before I left all those weeks ago flash through my mind, leaving an empty feeling in my stomach.
“You don’t know what you’re asking me to fucking do, Little Bird,” he whispers, and I can see in the slump of his shoulders that he understands before he hisses and lets go of my arm to storm away.
I can’t reply, as a moment later, the door swings open, and a man who I’d hoped to never see again walks in.
Fucking Earl.
I study him as he swaggers over to me, my heart racing enough to leave me drawing shallow breaths.
His face is lined with age, placing him around fifty if I had to guess, a scar bisecting his left eye and making him look so much like a cartoon villain that I have to hold back a hysterical laugh, but it’s the cruel smirk on his thin lips that makes the sound die before it’s even had a chance to form.
The sick delight in his eyes reminds me so much of my father’s men that I have to swallow bile.
“Hello, little songbird.”
My head whips to the side as sharp pain blooms along my cheek. I take a moment to realize that he’s just backhanded me. I hear shouts above the ringing in my ears, and feeling liquid dripping down my chin, I watch a drop of red spread on the concrete floor.
“Touch her again, Earl, and I’ll fucking cut off each of your hands while you watch,” Tarl snarls, and I turn back to see Earl surrounded by my guys a step or two away from me, Tarl nose to nose with him.
“My bad, boys.” Earl chuckles, the sound slithering across my skin like an oil spill. “I’ve always found the best way to get information is going in hard and fast.”
“Well, you’re here to observe,” Aeron interjects coolly, Tarl stepping back so Aeron can stand in front of the older man. I shiver at the ice in his tone. It’s like a frozen wasteland, ready to steal your last breath. “Leave this to us. Understood?”
I watch as something dark flickers in Earl’s beady eyes, his nostrils flaring as if he would challenge Aeron.
“Understood,” he replies after a few tense moments.
Aeron stares at him for a second longer, then gives a sharp nod, turning his back and dismissing Earl as if he were no one of importance. I watch as Earl’s fists clench, Aeron’s move pissing him off royally. Good, but Aeron best watch that one.
The heir to the Tailor throne turns his icy stare onto me, and it takes every ounce of strength I possess not to flinch.
“Tarl, the gurney.”
I hear Tarl walk past, his fingers brushing mine, and then the sound of wheels fills the space. I swallow, unable to look away from the swirling tundra of Aeron’s eyes.
“On the gurney, Dove.”
Taking a moment, I hold his gaze. Then, spinning around, I see a metal gurney behind me with thick, leather ankle and wrist straps dangling down its sides.
“It’ll go easier for you, Koshgelam, if you comply without a fuss,” Tarl tells me, his accent more pronounced than usual, his voice choked. He holds out a hand, like an old-fashioned gentleman would offer to a lady to help her into a car.
Not saying a word, I step towards him, taking his hand and pausing for a second to let its heat lend me strength. Using it, I move to sit up on the cold metal, a breath hissing from my parted lips as the chilly surface touches my bare ass.
“Could have warmed it up first,” I joke, but no one laughs, the silence of the room oppressive and heartbreaking.
Tarl helps me to lie back, then with a touch as gentle as if he were tucking me into bed, he buckles the strap around one wrist. Then my ankle, the other ankle, and finally, my other wrist.
“I truly am sorry for what is about to come, Eshgham,” he whispers, his mismatched eyes full of anguished sadness. I just nod, swallowing the lump in my throat, unable to say a word.
My head turns as Jude comes into view on my other side, his ocean eyes glistening. I watch as a single tear tracks down his stubbled cheek. He doesn’t wipe it away, instead; he places a cloth over my face, his fingertips brushing the side of my neck in a soft caress.
Tremors wrack my body, my concealed lips trembling as I hyperventilate.
“Begin,” Aeron’s impersonal voice says.
I take in a frightened breath, which proves to be the absolute worst fucking thing to do as my mouth and nose suddenly fill with ice-cold water. Spluttering, I thrash against my binds, my lungs screaming as I cough and hack, trying to breathe.
Shit, this is so much worse than I expected. Sure, there’s no excruciating pain, but being unable to breathe, the cloth making any attempt futile, sends my body soaring into panic mode, which just makes me inhale more water.
Water fills my mouth and nose, and every attempted inhale feels like shards of glass as I also take in the water and drown on dry land. Just as spots dance across my vision, the stream stops, and the cloth is whipped away.
Turning my head to the side I vomit up watery bile and take huge, gasping breaths. Pain ripples across my head as someone grabs my hair, and my blurry vision fills with bottomless eyes, the color of the deepest parts of the ocean that no one comes back from.
“Anything to tell us?” Aeron snarls out, and this time I do flinch, his grip loosening as he swallows and for a second his eyes are full of such torment that my body leans towards him, instinctively trying to soothe it away.
“You going to give me my brother’s safety, Devil Man?” My voice is croaky, each word painful and sharp. The grip tightens, and he bares his teeth at me.
“Again.”
I have a moment to feel the relief of not having his painful grip on my hair, but then the wet cloth is over my face and I’m drowning again.
And again.
And again.
They waterboard me for what feels like hours, my body growing weaker the longer it goes on until I feel as though I might pass out.
I must admit that they’re good at this. Really fucking good.
They know just when to stop, usually before I can give into the darkness that threatens the edges of my vision.
“I thought that the great Inquisitor had methods more effective than waterboarding?” Earl’s nasal voice sneers, and I try to turn my head to give him a glare. Spoiler alert; I don’t manage it.
“I usually go before that,” Knox says to my right, and I manage to look at him. His entire body is tight, a fine tremble running across his body as his fists clench at his sides.
“Knox—” Tarl starts but cuts off at the shake of Knox’s head.
“I’ll share this burden, brother,” Knox mumbles as he places a hand on Tarl’s shoulder.
Tarl’s entire body slumps, his eyes shining as he nods, and I feel sick at the thought that my refusal to speak is hurting them just as much as it’s hurting me. Maybe more so, as mine is only a physical pain, whereas theirs is etched deep into their souls.
“Tarl, Jude, get her off and hold her up,” Aeron orders, and even though I can’t see him, the anguish in his voice is clear.
The buckles release with a clank, and then I’m being heaved off the gurney, my legs wobbling under me when my feet touch the ground. Strong hands grasp my upper arms, their grip painfully hard, and the mix of cardamom and sunshine surrounds me as Jude and Tarl hold me upright.
Struggling, I lift my weary head and look at Knox, seeing Aeron off to one side and that cunt, Earl, leaning against the wall, arms crossed with a big-ass grin on his ugly face.
My gaze returns to Knox, and my chest hurts at seeing him so distraught, the pain superseding that of the near drowning. He’s staring down at his hands, his nostrils flaring as he flexes his fingers.
“It’s okay, Knox. Do what you have to,” I whisper, Rook’s tearstained face flashes before my eyes, from the day Mom died and I told him it would be alright too. Knox’s head snaps up to look at me with wide, terror-filled eyes. He gives a hard swallow, then his face goes completely blank.
“It will never be okay again, Little Bird.”