Chapter 28 Aniyah #3
“Fine.” I sighed. “You brought this on yourself. Mas, lift him.”
Maso grabbed the leash and yanked him up by the collar. The wolf’s torso stretched out as far as it could go, his neck high as the chains at his arms kept him in place. His breath immediately became strangled, coming out in a desperate sound.
I cut his shirt open and pulled the fabric apart, then, with delicate precision, I carved deep into his skin, forming big, bold letters that spelled out “Syndicate” across his chest.
His strangled screams couldn’t escape his lips with Maso’s tight hold strangling him, so his body did it for him—shaking, spasming, his face turning blue.
Nodding to Maso after I was done, he gave the leash some slack. Enough for a gasp and a little hope.
I stepped in the growing puddle of blood. “Wow,” I said, feigning shock. “That’s a lot.”
Then I stabbed the knife into his shoulder blade and leaned on it. His back arched, blood spraying across the floor.
His eyes fluttered, and I knew he was slipping again.
I slapped him hard. His eyes opened wide.
Grabbing his shirtfront, I shook him back and forth. “Who is it?! Who are you working for?!”
“I—I can’t…”
That was it. The last thread of my patience snapped. I reached for the waistband of his pants, ripping them down.
“Aniyah,” Maso warned from behind me.
I whirled around, eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare get in the middle of this! You want to be at my side? Then don’t stop me when I’m in the middle of teaching a lesson. Don’t ever think you have the right to tell me what to do.”
He stared at me for a beat before silently stepping back. Waiting. No judgment or opinions now, just steady support.
Turning back around, I finished dragging down the wolf’s pants and boxers. His face drained of all color in an instant.
I roughly gripped his limp cock in one hand. A whimper left his lips before I slid the flat of the blade along the top of his cock.
His breathing stuttered, becoming short, panicked. I leaned in close, resting my forehead on his, and my voice softened.
“Shhhh. Shh. It’s okay. I work in the sex trade. I know how important this is to you.”
I glanced down at his groin, then back up with a pitying wince. “It’s okay, baby. There’s magic for that. Maybe. But with that suppressant in your system? If I cut this off right now and cauterize it…”
I let the blade drift to the tip, slowly circling around it.
“You’ll never get it back.”
A scream ripped from him, raw and panicked. Blood beaded at the seam where my blade had nicked him.
“Oops,” I said softly, giving him a squeeze so that more blood bubbled up.
The defiance in his eyes melted faster than ice cream on a hot summer day. Fear crept in around the edges.
“Do you get it now?” I whispered. “I’m not bluffing. I’m not playing.” My voice dropped, becoming menacing. “Tell me who it is. Now.”
When he didn’t speak, my chest rose and fell in ragged bursts, each breath scraped raw with fury as my patience had run out.
My nails dug deep into his shoulder, pressing down beside the embedded knife, forcing more blood to gush out in thick, hot streams. The constant dripping became the only accompaniment to his sobs.
All fight drained from his body, he sagged against the chains.
“A-all right,” he whimpered, voice cracking under the weight of pain and defeat. “I’ll tell you. J-just s-stop—”
I tightened my grip around his flaccid cock, making him cry out, loud and high-pitched.
“Please!”
Satisfied he was right where I wanted him, I released him and ripped the blade free from his shoulder in one swift, brutal motion.
Blood spattered along my face. His agonized moan echoed in the metal container, but I stood still, foot tapping, eyes locked on his.
I wasn’t going to rush this. He needed to know I could do this all night if I had to.
He slowly lifted his head, blinking through the pain. “M-my boss is—”
The sentence died on his lips, and his body began to shake. The convulsions became violent, and my heart seized with the sight.
“No,” I whispered. “No, no—don’t you fucking dare.”
Acting fast, I gathered my magic and sent a stream of it straight into his chest, drawing on his strongest desire, hoping it would root him to life just long enough to speak.
“Say it!” I screamed. “Who is it?!”
His eyes locked on mine, glazed, unfocused. A soft smile stretched across his blood-streaked face before he coughed up blood, all while looking at me like I was salvation.
“Ruth.” He sighed dreamily as blood poured from his nose, ears, eyes, then he reached for me with trembling fingers.
I slapped him, hard.
“Focus!” I barked. Grabbing his arms, I violently shook him. “Tell me the name. Your boss. The organization. Give me something!”
“M-my b-boss…” he breathed. “H-he w-will br…”
His eyes went into the back of his head, which lolled forward. The rest of the words died before they were born.
A smell hit me. Burning.
Panic twisted my gut, and I leaned closer, sniffing until I pried open his mouth and got a full whiff of burning flesh.
On his tongue, scorched into the muscle like a brand, was a blackened sigil. A small, perfect circle with rune script laced around the edge saying, “Vow.” I gulped just as my eyes connected with the word in bold at the center.
“Void.”
I took a slow step back, glaring at his mouth like it was the bane of my existence.
He’d been magically silenced. Someone had placed a vow so binding, so final, it killed him the moment he got too close to revealing the truth.
Maso stepped forward, lifting the wolf’s limp arm before letting it fall with a dull thud.
“Guess he couldn’t hang with you,” he said flatly.
Usually, that would’ve earned a smirk, a snide remark, or a flick of my tongue against my teeth, but not now. Not when everything inside me was collapsing.
He was our only lead, our only link to the attack, to the mole, to the goddamn truth.
And I’d lost him.
I stared at the corpse hanging limp like a macabre puppet on strings, his blood still wet on my hands, and all I could feel was the acidic burn of failure. Shame crawled up my spine and coiled in my throat.
I’d failed my team. Failed my family. Failed to get even a fucking name.
I was the youngest Glovefox, the one who had to prove she belonged at the table, and this was what I brought to it? A dead body, a sealed mouth, and no answers?
My eyes blurred. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, doing everything I could to keep the tears from falling.
Ezra would’ve found a smarter way. Riot would’ve solved this with a spell. Even Nova could’ve beaten the truth out of him without triggering the kill charm. I could hear the unspoken judgment even if they weren’t here to say it.
You aren't good enough.
“Aniyah.” Maso’s voice was close, grounding.
I looked down at my hands, slick with red, and realized they were trembling. Not from regret of what I’d done, but from what I failed to do.
“Aniyah?”
I clenched my jaw so tight it ached. The rational part of me knew it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t have known. Magic like this was designed to outsmart the interrogator, but none of that mattered.
He was dead, and I was empty.
Warm hands closed around my shoulders and turned me toward him, then his mouth crashed into mine. No warning. No softness. Just heat and possession and a desperate, anchoring kiss.
I knew this wasn’t the right moment—not when the scent of death still clung to me—but maybe that was the point. I’d warned him. I’d told him this side of me wasn’t easy or soft.
Yet here he was, kissing the monster.
I broke the kiss with a growl, my hands flying to his neck, nails dragging down his skin as I shoved him against the container wall.
There was no sultry smile this time.
No flirtation. No games.
Just raw, coiled fury and the need to let it bleed out of me.
I glared down at him, and when I spoke, my voice was cold and steady. “Your turn to prove it. Show me you can handle this. Handle me.”
* Song: Deathwish by poutyface