Chapter 19
EMBERLINE
Torches lit up a circle of hell about ten feet wide around us.
Guards slammed me into the wall, then all I could feel were their cruel, calloused hands all over me, yanking my knives free—one from each boot, one from the sheath at my thigh, another from the small of my back.
A guard’s palm scraped down my ribs, found the secret blade sewn inside my jacket, and ripped that one out too, with a satisfied grunt.
All I could do was thrash as they pinched and prodded my flesh hard enough to bruise, making crude jokes, touching me where they had no right to touch, laughing at my helplessness.
I kicked out, smiling grimly when one of them grunted in pain, only to be crushed against the stone hard enough to break bones.
Nico and Gabriel shouted curses at the guards manhandling me, and I swore to the gods that when I got my knives back, I would hack off every one of their fingers so they would never touch anyone like this ever again.
They stripped us of every blade, every gun with the bored efficiency of males who’d done this a thousand times and could do it a thousand more without blinking.
Nico fought hardest, shoulders thrown, teeth bared, his body all angles and violence, even without steel to back him up. Gabriel kept putting himself between Dante and the guards beating him, but there were too many.
They were too strong.
Dante lifted his head long enough to make eye contact, horror in his ruined gaze, before they tore him away and dragged him into the dark.
“Stop, where are you taking him?” I lunged for him, but a fist caught my hair and yanked me back hard enough to slam me to the ground, knocking the breath out of me. I lay on my back, struggling to breathe.
“Emberline.” Gabriel was still shouting my name when the guards hauled him away in the opposite direction, his cursing louder than the scrape of boots, the rattle of armor, the dark, sadistic chuckle of the guards.
Then Nico was gone, too, in another direction.
“Dante. Dante, we’re getting you out of here.” I screamed until my throat burned. “Gabriel. Nico.”
A hand clamped over my mouth, and rage flooded my senses. I snapped my teeth, felt leathery skin give way until I tasted blood. Then I bit down even harder, through flesh and then bone, jerking my head to the side until the digit ripped free.
The guard reeled back, swearing.
I spat his thumb onto the ground, blood coating my face.
I didn’t have time to gloat.
Another set of hands grabbed me, forcing my arms behind my back, twisting until my shoulders screamed.
They dragged me down a corridor that stank like rot as I tried to keep track of all the twists and turns.
But directions became a blur of darkness and rough stone walls, of sweaty hands and rank body odor, of fear and panic.
Finally, the guards stopped abruptly and slammed me into the wall, beside a cell.
Metal clanked as they opened the door. Rusty hinges squealed.
“Wait.” The Overseer stepped into view, and his presence was a heavy, cold stone against my chest, crushing the air from my lungs, making me feel like I was drowning all over again.
The silence between us turned hungry, every guard salivating as their master approached. I held myself still, forced my breathing to level out. I’ve faced monsters before. But this… this one was different. This one didn’t play by the same rules I was accustomed to.
My fingers flexed, wishing for weapons that were gone.
He punched me with his closed fist.
One powerful blow to the cheek that spun me completely around had me clawing the stone to stay upright. Stars danced in my vision, my breath went wonky, and pain radiated through my skull in sickening waves.
“That’s for maiming my guard.”
He leaned closer, eyes reflecting the torchlight, until I saw the rough texture of his skin, the way the brand on his cheek puckered. He reached out and dragged his finger through the fresh gash.
Possessively. Like a lover.
I went perfectly still, every muscle coiling, stomach churning.
He inspected the end of his finger, glistening with my blood, bright red beneath the torches. Then he popped it into his mouth, made a show of tasting… me.
“More delicious than I could have imagined,” he murmured. “Clean and bright. We don’t get that here very often. And when we do, they don’t remain that way for long.”
My stomach flopped over and over at the raw greed in his eyes.
“What do you want?” My voice came out steadier than I felt.
That soft chuckle sounded wrong coming from him. “Want? What could I possibly want from you except to break you into pieces and see if I can put you back together again?”
He gathered more blood from my cheek and brought his finger back to his mouth.
Licked it clean, holding my gaze the entire time.
Oh, fuck no. My skin crawled violently, but there was no place for me to go, hemmed in by guards, stone walls, and a cell meant to trap me.
His mouth curved, long fangs gleaming like knives. “Still tastes like it did in Venice. In that house. You left a bit of yourself behind, little bird.”
Every hair on my body rose.
My breath caught. “You weren’t there.”
“I was,” he said, voice smooth as oiled iron. “In the wreckage of the burned-out house. The fires were still burning, the ash still drifting when we captured your… husband and hauled him here.” A pause. “And here you are. A delightful treat, fallen right into my lap.”
My pulse slammed. The burned-out house—Dante’s capture, the chaos, the flames, the way I’d barely gotten out. A trap set by Giovanni, enacted by this fucker. Everything rushed back, how Nico and I had watched the house burn from the rooftops, then Nico thought he saw something moving in the flames.
He hadn’t been imagining things, after all.
Dante must have gone straight from the palazzo to the burning house to look for me. And this asshole had been waiting.
“We’ll escape this place.” I held his gaze steadily, even as I wanted to throw up. Even as his hand slid to my jaw, tipping my face upward. His grip was firm—not painful, not yet, but the threat was there.
“You’re brave,” he murmured. “Or a pretty fool. They are so similar in the end, it hardly matters.”
“We are going to escape,” I repeated, jerking my chin free. “But before we do, I am going to kill you,” I said, voice shaking with fury.
Another slow inhale. Another indulgent pause. “No, little bird,” he replied, as calmly as if correcting a child. “Your life is now forfeit. You belong to the Fossa now. Which means you belong to me.”
I forced myself to breathe through the stench, through the fear, through the animal part of my brain screaming to run, even though there was nowhere to run to. Nothing was waiting for me except the cell right in front of me. And whatever came after that.
“I do hope you know how to fight,” he said conversationally. “Though you don’t look like much. And the DiRavellos…” He made a tsking sound with his tongue. “Perhaps you should have remained in the city, princess.”
“So, you know who I am, then.” I narrowed my eyes at him, lifted my chin, and gave him my coldest glare. “My uncle pays you a lot of money.”
“Money means nothing here. Pain, however… pain is the only currency I deal in.” He tilted his head, watching me without blinking. “You will be first up in the morning. It was supposed to be your husband, but I think I like this plan better.”
For one heartbeat, I didn’t understand. Then I did, and the world narrowed to a single brutal image—an arena. Blood. Carnage.
A savage spectacle to drive my husband to the brink.
“I won’t fight. I’m not here to entertain you,” I breathed.
“Then you will die.” He shrugged, as if my fate was irrelevant. “You came here to save him.” His voice sharpened. “Now you will bleed for him. And watching you bleed will accomplish what I was never able to do for fifty years.”
“And what was that?” I asked, already knowing the answer, already knowing why he was doing this.
“Break the famous Lone Wolf, of course. It is one thing to endure your own suffering, but to see the ones you love suffer…” He shook his head. “That is the purest form of torment there is. Until morning, then.”
A hand shoved me from behind.
I stumbled over the threshold and went down hard on my knees, palms slapping filthy stone, nearly crushing my nose as the door slammed behind me, the sound reverberating through the walls like a bell as they disappeared.
Trapped.
Fuck. Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to be how this ended.
“Dante,” I said louder, the sound tearing at my throat. “Gabriel. Nico?”
Nothing but silence answered.
I crawled to the back wall and hugged my knees to my chest. I had two—exactly two—tricks up my sleeve, and neither of them would get us out of here. No, for that, we’d need a fucking miracle.
From somewhere deep in the dark, a laugh echoed.
Low. Ragged. Cruel.
Another joined it.
Then another.
I pressed my forehead to my knees and swallowed down the sobs threatening to tear free. Every little scrape and bruise was flaring up, and by morning, I’d be stiff from sitting on this cold, hard floor.
And yet, from somewhere far away, through the filthy air, I still smelled Dante—faint but real. Close enough to remind me that I’d chosen this fate.
And delivered us both to hell.