Chapter 58
Jax
My mouth feels like it’s caked in sand.
Fuck, it’s hot in here.
And it smells like piss and vomit.
Not mine. I hold some pride there. Though I couldn’t stop the groan that tore from me when he took my finger. The loss hurt more than the physical pain. The representation of what that finger meant to me. The tattoo Rylee had given me. Fucking prick.
I thought my father was bad. I had no idea I have an uncle who is much worse.
I groan as I shift my weight, my toes barely scraping the sodden ground in this forsaken cell. My wrists are bleeding beneath the iron chains they’ve strung me up with, and from the pulsing heat coming off the wounds, I’m pretty sure they’re infected.
My head swarms, another rush of dizziness making my eyes roll back. Everything hurts, like acid pumps between my joints. They dosed me with something. Tried to get me to talk.
I refused.
“Drink,” a female voice demands.
I open my eyes. Can’t remember shutting them.
I turn my head away from the wooden ladle the woman holds up to my lips.
“It’s water,” she snaps. “Drink it.”
I press my lips together tightly, turning my head away as far as I can in the chained position. One thing I’ve learned: they’re fond of poisons and other awful concoctions here.
“I’m trying to help you, you stubborn-ass prince.” The way she says that has something prickling the back of my neck. Some sense of familiarity I can’t place. I turn to look at her finally, squinting because the damn room won’t stop spinning.
My heart stops as I meet familiar blue eyes. “Rylee—”
She shoves the ladle against my open mouth, and a sugary sweet water spills in that I instinctively swallow.
The pulsing ache behind my eyes fades to a dull pain, my eyes clearing as the room stops spinning.
It’s not Rylee. Of course it isn’t. She’s safe in Lumathyst, where she belongs.
I wonder what story Baydel will spin for them. Will he say I died in a storm among the sea? How tragically boring.
“What did you call me?” the woman asks, her eyes wide. She’s older, looking closer to Mirren’s age, but who’s to really say? I’m in a realm I know nothing about. Everything I thought I knew is a web of lies to serve a purpose I’m still not clear on.
“What was in that water?” I ask, the pain in my wrists ebbing, too.
“Tonic—”
A clang on the cell bars makes her jump, and then she glares behind her.
“No talking,” a guard grumbles at the woman.
She looks back at me, studying me for a moment.
I stare right back, something itching my brain.
“Prick.” She spins toward the guard, who lets her out of the cell.
“Think of what you’ll call me when I get out of here,” I threaten, then laugh. Low. Slow. The laugh of Nightmares.
She doesn’t look back.
I don’t question why she gave me a tonic. Not when my uncle has proven his sadistic side. He wants to heal me so he can break me again. Hate to say it, but I’ve used tactics like this before—only when they were deserved, though.
I suppose some would say I deserve worse.
I swallow hard, hissing against the burn in my arms from being suspended this long.
Time passes. I’m not sure how long. I measure it in moments of pain—a guard comes in, breaks my nose, asks me some questions, then leaves again.
Over and over.
And it’s only when they beat me into unconsciousness that I gain relief.
A sharp crack startles me awake.
I groan. The taste of metal fills my mouth.
“There he is.” My uncle’s voice sounds before my vision clears.
“Looking rather bleak today, aren’t we?” He paces before me, dressed in a fine suit of purple.
He looks so like my father, only taller and a little slimmer.
It’s unnerving. His eyes have that gray sheen to them today.
The last time I saw them, they were as bright a green as my father’s.
I motion in the chains with a shrug. “Not my best lighting.”
He glances at the lone torch outside illuminating the cell, then laughs and shakes his head.
“You’re certainly hard to crack,” he says, wagging a finger at me.
“Violence and torture do nothing to you. I don’t know what to do with a man like that.
” He grins. “Then I got to thinking about that mate of yours, the one you won’t tell me anything about.
The one I suspect got in the way of you having full powers, or I would’ve already drunk from you. ”
I glare at him. “Fuck you.”
His smile deepens. “Funny, I honestly wouldn’t have pegged you for a romantic.” He pops his lips. “I, on the other hand, am a romantic. I sent your mate a gift.” He reaches for my wounded hand, gripping the stump that used to be my ring finger.
Panic claws up my throat.
No.
“It should’ve arrived today,” he continues, releasing me so hard I swing back in the chains. The motion sparks blinding pain along my body. He claps his hands together, looking downright giddy.
“I’m going to kill you,” I say as calmly as I can.
“I doubt that, nephew. We’re going to become friends. You’ll see. You and I have a long life ahead of us.” He huffs. “Especially when I get my hands on her. My person on the inside is close. I wonder if she appreciated my thoughtful gift.”
Adrenaline crackles to life in my blood. I yank against the chains, growling like a wild animal.
He laughs. “I like you, Jax. And if she’s anything like you, I’ll love her.”
“You touch her, you die.”
“Now, that’s not very kind,” he says, tsking at me. “And to think, I was going to let you two share this cell together.”
Everything in me goes cold as he spears into my mind. Weaves a vision of Rylee in this cell, strung up in chains in the worst possible way. Bruised, broken, bleeding. Begging me to help her.
“Stop!” I demand. “Stop!”
He doesn’t relent. He shows me all the ways he intends to hurt her. It kills something inside me to watch it. He only pulls out of my mind when a guard storms into the cell and whispers something in his ear.
His smile widens, and my stomach plummets.
“Call off your source.” I force the words out. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just leave her alone.”
“It’s too late for that now,” he says. “You had your chance to behave. You didn’t.” He looks down his nose at me. “It appears your beloved is on her way to rescue you.”
to be continued