Chapter 38
Katana
They unbuckle me like I’m nothing more than equipment being put back in storage. My wrists are raw, my throat wrecked from screaming, but the worst pain isn’t in my body. It’s in my chest, hollow and burning all at once.
Corinne hums as she guides me back toward the pipe, her hands deceptively gentle. She murmurs something about “steady breaths” as she rebinds my wrists, and it makes bile rise in my throat. Steady breaths—like this is routine. Like this isn’t some sick torture.
The chains lock again, the metal biting deep into the lacerations from the leather straps. Then she straightens, wipes her hands on her scrubs, and glides out behind Vale. The door slams, the lock scrapes. Silence swallows the room.
Micah’s voice breaks it first. Rough, low, and bleeding at the edges. “Katana.”
I can’t look at him. My eyes burn too hot, my body still twitching from the phantom current.
What happens when Vale decides I’m no longer useful? The thought snakes under my skin.
“Talk to me,” Micah begs, his chains dragging as he strains to be closer. “Please.”
I keep my head down, my hair falling around me like a curtain. I’m afraid to meet his eyes, fearing I’ll shatter.
He gave them answers. I heard the words spill from him between my screams. Little scraps, but still—he gave them something. And for what? They shocked me anyway.
My chest twists. Do I resent him for talking? Or do I resent him for not being able to stop them? I don’t know. Both, maybe.
“I had to,” he says suddenly, like he’s heard the thoughts I didn’t speak. His voice is hoarse, desperate. “I thought if I gave him scraps, he’d stop. I thought—” He cuts himself off, chains rattling.
I stare at him, waiting.
“I was trying to make it stop.”
Tears spill hot and fast before I can stop them. I tip my head back against the wall and let them fall, my voice splintering when it finally comes. “It didn’t work.”
The silence that follows is heavy enough to choke me.
Then Micah speaks again, softer this time. “I know. And I swear to you, little murderess, I’ll make them pay for every second of it.”
I want to believe him. God, I do. But all I feel is the echo of the current, the burn in my muscles, and the memory of his voice breaking as he tried to save me.
I close my eyes, curling tighter against the wall. I don’t answer. I can’t.
But when I feel the faint brush of his foot against mine again, I don’t pull away.