42. Lorcan
LORCAN
The auction was going to start soon. Every minute I stood in this empty classroom was another minute Liath was slipping further out of reach.
I tapped my foot and glared at Elias, sitting zip-tied to a chair with his head lolling against his chest and one expensive shoe fallen sideways. His robe and gold mask had been set aside so he sat in his underclothes.
He’d walked through the door earlier, already unbuckling his belt, convinced he’d been summoned for a quickie from his latest fuck buddy before the auction began. Thanks, Bas.
It had taken approximately ten seconds to put him on the floor.
Bas leaned against the wall with his hands buried in his pockets. He looked entirely at home, and I still hadn’t decided whether that quality was reassuring or deeply unsettling.
He broke the silence first. “So… Daddy Deargán, huh?”
I shot him a look. “Don’t want to talk about it.”
My attention moved straight back to Elias. He was still unconscious.
Brilliant. I’d spent years imagining knocking the bastard on his arse. Apparently, I’d been too enthusiastic.
Bas pushed himself off the wall and came to stand next to me. “I know he’s a pain in the bollocks,” he said. “But he’s your pain in the bollocks. You need to tell him.”
I gave Elias a sharp slap across the cheek. His head flopped sideways, but nothing else happened.
I let out a frustrated growl. “What will that change?”
He shrugged and smiled. “Everything. You’ll see.”
Something dangerous stirred somewhere deep inside me. I crushed it before it could take root. This world had taught me exactly what happened to people who hoped too hard.
Besides, the bastard was still my biggest fucking rival.
I slapped Elias again, harder this time. “After we get Liath back.”
Bas studied me for a long moment before nodding. “After.”
He reached into his black jacket and pulled out a paper bag, the smell of deep-fried potatoes mixing with chalk dust. He held it out. “Chip?”
I took a handful without looking away from Elias, the salt stinging my fingers still raw from the tower climb down.
Elias let out a groan, his head shifting.
“Finally,” I muttered.
Bas nudged my arm with his elbow. “We could torture him a little.”
“No.”
He sighed dramatically. “Why is everyone so against torture?”
I gave him a long side-eye. “Do I actually need to answer that?”
“Come on. It’d be fun.” He grinned and waved a chip in the air. “Bros gone wild.”
I stared at him for a long moment. “Still no.”
Bas folded his arms, his grin disappearing. “He injected you in the neck,” he said, nodding toward Elias. “And told you he was going to buy your girl.”
“You lose, your highness.” Elias stuck the needle in my neck, then leaned in to whisper into my ear. “You know, I think I will buy her. Think of me fucking her over and over, in her pussy, in her pretty little mouth, and in her tight little ass.”
I glared down at Elias, blinking sleepily back at me, my hands curling into fists at my sides. A darkness spread across my chest and for the first time, I let it loose.
“Okay.” I flicked open my switchblade. “Maybe a little torture. Just until he gives us what we want.”
Elias’s eyes snapped open fully. His gaze found the knife, then me, then Bas. “I’ll tell you!” he yelled. “Christ, I’ll tell you everything.”
Coward. I hadn’t even asked a question. Exactly the sort of man I’d always known he was. Soft underneath the authority. Weak underneath the facade of power.
It took less than a minute for tonight’s member protocol to spill out of him. He gave us the secret Sons-only entrance to the underground, the recognition signal at the entrance, the secondary password once inside, and which corridor led to the auction chamber.
He finished speaking, breathing hard. “T-that’s all you want, right? That’s all I know.”
Bas crouched beside him and patted his hand. “We’re going to need your ring, too.”
Elias looked down at his hand, then back at us. “Please.” His voice cracked. “It won’t come off.”
“It will. But it’ll probably hurt,” Bas admitted.
I nudged Bas out of the way and grabbed Elias’s wrist. “Hold still.”
I sawed my blade across his finger, right where his finger met his palm. Blood sprayed everywhere. Bone gave with a dull crack as I applied pressure down.
Elias screamed. His severed finger hit the floor, and his cry cut off as he fainted.
Bas blinked, looked at the finger, then back at me. “Or…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “…you could get it off that way. Yeah. Much more effective.”
I picked up the finger. The Sons signet gleamed through the blood, and for a second my grip tightened as the memory rose unbidden in my mind of Alistair’s hand closing around mine, the hidden thorns digging deeper and flesh tearing as he twisted the ring free.
I wiped the blood off the finger on Elias’s undershirt, then tugged the gold band off. The thorns retracted obediently once it was off.
I shoved the severed finger into Elias’s open mouth, hoping he’d choke on it when he woke. It seemed appropriate.
Then I looked down at the ring held in my fingertips. For one long moment, I simply stared at it.
This was for Liath.
I slid it onto my healing finger. The hidden thorns engaged immediately, and fresh pain shot through the scabbed flesh as the metal settled into place. Blood welled from my finger and tracked slowly into my palm.
Bas picked up Elias’s robe from the chair and I shrugged it on.
Then he held out the gold mask.
I took it and pulled it over my face.
The room fell silent.
I found my reflection in the dark glass of the window, unrecognizable, except for my eyes staring back at me.
I had become the very thing I hated because it was the only way left to save the woman I loved.