Chapter 32
ASHER
Well, well.
Caleb has managed to get himself half-killed again. Can’t even blame the idiot this time. This one’s all on me. Good thing I’m patient.
I flex his fingers— our fingers—and tense each muscle. Pain slices through me as bruised muscles twitch under ruined skin.
Fuck. They really did a number on us this time.
Still, I roll my neck, ignoring the grind of splintered ribs. The chains bite into my wrists, but pain is an old friend. I welcome its embrace, letting it fuel the rage simmering beneath my skin.
My body might be hanging on by a thread, but I’ve operated on less. And if those fools think a little blood and broken cartilage will stop me from reclaiming what’s mine . . .
They’re about to learn just how easily I can turn ruin into retribution.
I sweep my gaze across the room. The scent is as I remember it, only now it’s filled with the stench of years of decomposition.
In the centre.
A box.
Narrow. Silent. But not empty.
I can feel her.
My Maeve. My little shadow.
They buried her alive.
I yank at the chains. “Did you really think you could keep her from me?” My voice pierces through the silence.
It falls on deaf ears.
I’m going to make them scream for what they’ve done to her. An eye for an eye, as the saying goes. Only it’ll take more than that. They’ll pay with their lives, and the lives of their loved ones.
The chains groan in protest with each tug, but they hold firm. No matter. I’ll tear the skin from my own goddamn wrists if I must. I only need one hand to kill.
I roll my shoulders, settling deeper into Caleb’s flesh as the drugs coursing through his veins tug at my consciousness. His mind is a cacophony of terror and anguish.
“Quiet now,” I murmur. “It’s my time.”
The last thing I need is his weakness distracting me from saving my—our—woman. I’ll allow him that peace.
I clench and unclench my fists, allowing Caleb’s consciousness to recede completely.
“Asher?” Maeve’s voice seeps into the silence, muffled by the box keeping her imprisoned.
I pour my will into my muscles. They strain and bulge underneath my skin, burning with an intensity of a thousand men tearing me apart. The chain links creak, grinding against each other in a metallic symphony of resistance. My veins throb, pulsing with the erratic beat of my heart.
“I’m here.” I grunt through the pain. “Almost there.”
The chains squeal, old metal giving way incrementally with each tug. My wrists bleed, warm wetness trickling down my forearms like tiny rivers.
Oh, how I love the sight of blood, just not usually my own. It only fuels me. I’ve broken stronger bonds before.
The faint tang of metal fills the air and the chains whine like wounded animals, each groan bringing them closer to their inevitable defeat. Sweat beads on my forehead, every muscle in my body on fire.
Nothing matters but Maeve.
She needs me.
Me .
A thud from inside the box.
Maeve whimpers. “Asher. Hurry.”
A growl rips through me in protest. Normally, the sound would ignite a fire inside me, make me want to bury myself inside her and live there for an eternity.
The sound still sends a shiver down my spine, only now, it’s for all the wrong reasons. My beautiful, broken girl, trapped like a feral animal. Her whimpers belong to me. Not them.
How dare they lock her away from me.
The chains finally give way from the wall with a resounding crack, sending me tumbling forward. My legs are useless beneath me, and I hit the cold concrete, the air rattling from my lungs. A groan rips from my chest, and I clutch at my broken ribs, sucking in a deep breath.
“I’m coming, Little Shadow,” I grunt out, my words spoken like a promise.
Nothing will keep me from her. Not even a broken body. They’ll have to kill me first.
I push to my feet, bracing an arm against my shattered side, and stumble forward, one hand out to steady myself as the chains around the cuffs drag at my sides.
Maeve’s soft whimpers guide me like a beacon to the centre of the room. My foot connects with a wheel on the gurney.
My prize.
I run my hands over the rough surface. Everything has a weakness, a part of itself I can manipulate. My fingers brush over something cold, metal—a latch. I grin.
I’ll have her in my arms soon enough.
With a grunt, I wrench the latch free and shove the lid aside. It crashes into the concrete floor, splintering. Maeve scrambles from the box, launching herself into my arms, her breath warm against my neck. I cradle her close, inhaling the scent of her hair mixed with dried blood, even as my body protests.
Pain is an inconsequential thing.
“You’re safe,” I murmur, stroking the back of her neck. “I’ve got you.”
Maeve presses her lips to my jaw, her warm tears melting into my skin. My entire body throbs, a dull counterpoint to the thundering of my heart. I push it aside, compartmentalising it like everything else in my life.
Our captors still lurk in the shadows, unaware of what they’ve unleashed. They think they know what I’m capable of. My little stunt—setting fire to this place—ten years ago was nothing compared to what I plan to do now.
I ease Maeve to her feet, keeping one arm wrapped around her shoulders, and lead her to the exit. I twist the handle on the door. It doesn’t budge. Locked. I suppose that would be too easy. No matter, locks are merely puzzles waiting to be solved, and I’ve always excelled at games.
“Maeve,” I say against the top of her head. “Do you trust me?”
She sniffs, nodding.
“That’s my good girl.” I slam my hand hard against the heavy door, making Maeve jump. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
“What are you doing?” Maeve says, her voice a harsh whisper.
I throw her a wink. “Stay behind me.”
Footsteps approach. The latch on the door clicks. I step in front of Maeve, stretching to my full height despite the ripping open of my body. Bright light floods the chamber, momentarily blinding me.
I raise a hand, shielding my eyes. “Do you fucking mind?”
The light disappears.
“That’s better,” I say, brushing the dirt and filth from my torso.
Maeve gasps, pressing herself to my back, her fingers wrapping around my biceps.
Two men stand in the doorway, their hulking frames taking up too much space. Just the people I want to see. Their shock is palpable, hanging in the air like a tangible thing.
“Impossible,” one says, glancing at the other as though he needs confirmation they’re witnessing the same thing.
Yes, dickhead. I’m standing right in front of you.
I laugh, the sound sharp and brittle. “Let me ask you a question,” I say, examining the cuffs around my wrists as I take a step forward.
The two men share another glance, a silent question darting between them.
Heat rises in my chest and spreads into every limb.
“It’s simple, really.” I take another step forward, narrowing my eyes on the shorter of the two.
He does the same, his hand resting on what I’m assuming is a weapon concealed beneath his jacket. The second man throws his arm up and shakes his head, stopping the first from approaching me further.
“What’s that?” the first finally says, his voice higher pitched than it should be considering his size.
A smirk lifts one corner of my lips. “Which one of you put his hands on my woman?”
This time, the man on the right—the larger of the two—chuckles. “That would be me. She’s quite a feisty little thing. Too bad I had to shut her up with my fists.”
My jaw tightens. Although . . . I do admire his honesty.
“Well . . .” I say, staring him down. “That was your first mistake.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What was my second?”
My grin grows. “Underestimating me.”
I swing an arm, sending the chain attached to my wrist careening forward, and wrapping around his neck. I yank my arm back, tightening the metal against itself. Eyes wide, he gags, his fat fingers struggling to uncoil the chain.
“You sonofabitch.” The first charges at me, fist clenched, top lip curled like the cartoon character he is.
I sidestep, and let momentum do the rest. Concrete greets bone with a sickening crunch, and he drops like a sack of potatoes. Useless.
The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
Gritting my teeth, I tug at the chain around the second man’s neck, tightening my hold, and slam him against the wall. His pulse thrums frantically, like a wild thing trying to escape the clutches of something much bigger. Deadlier.
Such delicious fear in those widening eyes.
I lean in close, breathing in the acrid stench of his terror. “Did you enjoy it?” I murmur, pulling the chain tighter. “Making her scream? Hearing her pleas for mercy?”
A whimper escapes his lips.
How disappointing. I expected more fight from this worthless piece of shit.
And now . . . he’s pissing himself.
Fucking pathetic.
I step back, releasing his throat just a little. “Pull yourself together.”
“Asher!” Maeve’s voice cuts through my haze of bloodlust.
I glance over my shoulder, still pinning the guard to the wall. She’s now standing in the doorway, her face covered in filth and dried tears. Blood drips from a gash on her forehead, matting her dark hair to her pale face. Her hands tremble, but she grips a stolen pistol with white-knuckled resolve.
There’s my girl.
“We need to go.” Her eyes dart to the corridor beyond, then back to me. “James could be anywhere by now.”
I nod, taking in the sight of her. Even battered and filthy, she’s magnificent. My Maeve—my Bethany—finally embracing the darkness within.
A gurgle from the guard beneath my hands reminds me of my unfinished business. I tighten my grip, cartilage giving way beneath the chains.
His struggles weaken, limbs twitching, blood draining from his face. The remaining air leaks from his lungs, and he crumples to the floor, blue-faced and lifeless. Something’s missing. Blood. There’s not enough blood. Such brute force is not usually my style, but this will have to do.
There’s no time to gut him.
I kneel and shove my hands into his pockets. There must be keys to these fucking cuffs somewhere.
“Search his pockets.” I point at the unconscious arsehole on the concrete floor.
Maeve takes one last glance down the corridor, then rushes back into the room and drops to her knees beside him. She shoves a hand into the pockets of his pants, the gun in her other hand pointed at the open doorway.
“I found them.” She comes towards me, a bundle of keys in her hand. “One of these should work.”
With trembling fingers, she tucks the gun under an arm and fumbles with the keys, bloodied fingertips slipping against the cold metal. Each failed attempt pulls a strangled cry from her lips, but she doesn’t stop.
She can’t.
I know the feeling.
“Look at me.” I hook a finger under her chin, lifting her dark gaze to mine. “Breathe. No-one touches you again. Got it?”
A single tear streaks down her dirt-covered face, and I brush it away with my thumb. “Asher, I’m so sorry. I lo?—”
“Later,” I say, lifting my eyebrows with a nod. “Now get me out of these fucking things.”
Maeve trembles through each key, testing them in the lock on the cuffs. Finally, the sweet sound of freedom echoes around the room, one cuff falling to the ground, then the other. Dried and fresh blood coat both wrists, the sting of the open wounds easing without the cuffs rubbing against the raw flesh.
I step over the lifeless guard without a second glance, moving to Maeve’s side.
“What about him?” she says, nodding to the mouth-breather.
Smiling, I snatch the gun from her hand and aim it directly between his eyes. Without hesitation, I squeeze the trigger, the sound like lightning cracking concrete.
Maeve flinches, her hands flying to her mouth. But, there’s no fear in her expression, just pure fascination.
I hold the gun out to her. “He won’t be a problem.”
Without taking her eyes off the man now bleeding from his forehead, Maeve wraps her hand around the handle of the weapon.
“You ready?” I cup her face. “It’s now or never.”
Maeve nods and takes off down the hall. I step after her. White-hot pain lances through my side. I grunt and glance down.
Well . . . this isn’t good.
When the fuck did he manage to do that?
I yank the blade from my side, dropping it to the floor. It clatters against the concrete, echoing through the dimly lit corridor.
Maeve whips her head around. “Asher?”
I wave her on. “I’m right behind you, Little Shadow.”
She frowns, but keeps moving, turning her back to me once again.
I press a hand to the weeping gash in my side. The pain is exquisite, a shock of clarity cutting through the red haze. My lips spasm as I bare my teeth, and lunge forward. Nausea floods my stomach, a sheen of sweat covering my clammy skin. My vision blurs, and I sway on my feet.
Just a little longer.
Only one more death to paint on this canvas of violence. And I want to watch my little shadow sink into her rightful place.
Warm hands grip my face.
Maeve stares up at me, eyes wide with desperation. “Let me help you.” She wraps her arm around my waist, pressing her hand against my wound, stemming the flow of blood.
Breathing heavy, her slight frame supports mine as she drags me down the hall, and up a flight of concrete stairs, into the old dining hall.
It’s useless. My life-force is ebbing from me with each laboured breath. The world fades in and out, a kaleidoscope of pain and fractured images. I find my focus on her tear-streaked face.
“Don’t you dare die on me!” She continues to drag me, one foot in front of the other, sending fresh agony lancing through my body. “I need you. I love you, damn it. You promised me you’d find me again. You can’t leave me now.”
A small smile nudges my lips. “You remember.”
She nods, her eyes darting to me for a split second, her body weakening under the weight of mine. “Yes, and I’m not giving you up again.”
I try to focus on her, on the warmth of her hands against my cooling skin.
She remembers me, loves me.
Me.
I’ll never be able to say those words to her, but she doesn’t need them. She’s the reason I breathe, always has been. The reason I no longer wish Caleb would fuck off. She needs us both. And I could never hurt her like that. Not now.
The taste of copper finds my tongue, the sticky warmth filling my mouth.
Too much blood lost.
Not enough time.
I reach into my pocket, fumbling for the familiar shape of my lighter. I pull it out, my hand slick with blood, and press the cold metal into her palm.
Maeve’s eyes widen. “What . . . Asher, no.” She shakes her head violently, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t make me do this without you.”
I collapse onto the worn floorboards, dragging Maeve with me. “Go.” My voice is hoarse, the word barely audible. “Finish it. Remember who you are.”
Maeve’s face contorts, and she grips my hand, bringing it to her cracked lips. “I won’t leave you.” Her voice comes out in a strangled sob. “We’re getting out of here together, do you hear me?” Her head falls against my chest, her breaths uneven and fitful. “Please, Asher. I need you.”
“Look at me.” I grip her chin, forcing her face up once more.
If this is the end, I want to stare into those emotion-filled dark eyes one last time.
“Please,” she whispers. “Don’t leave me alone.”
I cup her cheek, my hand involuntarily shaking, and swipe at her tears. Her lips find my palm, soft and warm. Time slows. Something cracks deep inside me, something I can’t name.
Love? No.
I’ve never known what that feels like. Not in the way she needs. But this moment with her is the closest I’ll ever come to it.
“I always thought your emotions would be the death of you, Little Shadow,” I choke out, a small, broken smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “But I was wrong. They’re what make you strong. The darkness you shove down. Unleash it.” My jaw tightens. “And burn this fucking place to the ground.”
Maeve’s face blurs, the edges bleeding like spilled ink.
The pain I’ve been holding at bay crashes over me in violent waves, each one threatening to pull me under. My breathing grows ragged.
I try to focus on her, on the warmth of her hand in mine, but the darkness at the edges of my vision creeps closer.
Patient. Inevitable.
“Asher!” Maeve’s voice is distant, muffled, like she’s calling my name from underwater.
I want to stay.
But the cold creeping up my spine says otherwise.
Is this death?
I thought it would be more . . . dramatic. Messier. Louder.
Turns out, it’s quiet.
My grip on Maeve’s hand slackens. The shadows close in. With what’s left of me, I drag in one last breath and find her eyes.
A word forms on my tongue, a breath, barely there. “Caleb.”
I could shove him down, lock him away like I always do. But not this time.
Your turn, Caleb.
For her.
I let go.
And for once, I don’t fight the light.
I just close my eyes and let it take me.