Chapter 35
Micah
Hours pass in silence after Corinne’s first visit with food. She doesn’t come back until much later. The hinges whine and footsteps thud down the stairs. This time, she isn’t carrying sandwiches.
Vale and Corinne stand at the bottom of the stairs, staring at us like an experiment they can’t wait to perform.
“Up,” Vale orders.
I remain sitting, staring at him defiantly. Katana follows my lead, remaining still, even though her eyes dart between me and them.
Corinne approaches Katana. Her hands are deceptively gentle as she unclasps the chain binding her wrists.
She doesn’t free her—only drags her forward, guiding her like a patient.
Katana fights, but the older woman is steady and practiced.
It isn’t force she uses—it’s precision. A twist of the strap, a palm against the shoulder, and suddenly Katana is flat against the steel table, leather buckles cinching around her wrists and ankles.
I thrash against the chains, but they hold me back. I snarl, baring my teeth at Vale, but he just stands there, staring at me with something sinister in his eyes.
“Hold still, sweetheart,” Corinne croons, brushing hair back from Katana’s face like she’s tucking her in instead of strapping her to a metal table. “This will go easier if you don’t resist.”
Katana thrashes anyway. Her eyes find mine, begging and defying in the same breath.
I strain against the pipe until the iron cuts skin. My chains rattle and my shoulders knot from my efforts to get free, but nothing gives. Helplessness tastes like acid in my throat.
Vale circles the table, his hands clasped behind his back. “Tell me, Katana,” he says softly. “Who has been whispering in your ear? Filling your head with rebellion?” His eyes dart to me. “Is it Micah?”
“Go to hell,” she spits, her voice raw.
Corinne doesn’t flinch. She adjusts a strap on Katana’s wrist, humming under her breath. Then she steps to the machine nearby, flicking switches with the same calmness she might use to check a patient’s vital signs.
The hum begins low. The light bulb above us flickers as the first shock makes Katana jerk against the restraints. Her jaw clenches, a slight sound ripping from her throat.
My vision turns red. I lunge forward, roaring, but the pipe holds. My wrists scream. My teeth grind. “Stop!”
Vale tilts his head, pleased. “Ah, there it is. You only speak when she’s involved.”
“Fuck you,” I roar.
Vale chuckles. “Such language.” He points to Katana, his eyes glinting. “You see? She’s stubborn, like you. But even stubborn things bend if you apply the right pressure.”
Corinne dials the machine higher, her face serene, almost maternal. “Breathe, darling,” she murmurs to Katana. “It’ll be worse if you fight it.”
“Tell me, Katana, how long have you and Micah been friends?”
She presses her lips together, refusing to speak. Good fucking girl. I bang against the pipe, trying like hell to break free. To save her. Fuck, I’ve never wanted to save anyone so much in my entire life.
The realization is a cold bucket of water over me. I’ve had the urge to kill for most of my life… until Katana. She’s the only one worth saving. The only one who makes my life worthwhile. The only one I love.
Fuck, I love her.
The second shock hits harder. Katana’s back arches from the table, and her cry splits the air. I snarl so loud it tears at my throat, feeling every shock that goes through her. My body bows, my muscles tense, as the current races through my skin, tearing me apart. Because it’s tearing her apart.
“Touch her again and I swear—” The rest tangles in my chest because I can’t finish it. Reality is a bitter pill I choke on.
I can’t move. I can’t save her.
Vale leans closer to me, savoring it. “That’s the beauty of it, Micah. You get to watch. To feel every ounce of helplessness you made me taste. You can’t save her. She’s your weakness... And now she’s mine to break.”
Katana gasps for air, her lashes wet and her jaw tight. Even through the tears, her head turns to me. And when our eyes meet—hazel clashing with darkness—I see it. Not surrender. Not pity.
Fury.
She’s still fighting.
And that steadies the monster in my chest. It turns helplessness into something sharper. Something tangible.
I will get us out of here.
I memorize every detail—the straps, the machine, Corinne’s hands on the dials. Every second is another note in the plan I’m already writing in blood.
Savor it now, Vale. When the tables turn, you’ll beg, but there will be no mercy.