Chapter 29 Claeg
They brought me deep within the stronghold, to the room Anastasius had met with Rohit and Ercan in. It smelled of blood, urine, vomit, and waste. Weakness. Draconis were brought here to rot. Perhaps being here was a good thing. It certainly provided more knowledge about my enemy and what the captured draconis were put through. And it got me away from Anastasius, the fucker who was part of the torture of my clan and lied to me about it. The space between made everything clear: I was Circulus. Ruptor. Not Eleos. It had been so tempting to let myself fall for this prince, to let myself believe that the Ruptor was Eleos. If I had continued down this path . . . I would be embracing my broken Circle—abandoning my clan, my duty, my sister. I couldn’t fail them. I would turn this weakness into strength, using every bit of pain awarded to me as a reminder of my purpose: to destroy.
The brutes secured me with chains dangling from the ceiling in the center of the room. They forced me to stand on my toes and stripped me of my trousers. This was just the beginning, though. Pain was my future; I knew that. I refused to cower. The man with missing fingers, Calian, returned with a rod with finely kneaded ropes attached to it. The other warrior, Hariasa, rivaled my size and had a smile like daggers as she sneered at me.
“You are going to scream like no one’s ever screamed before, Circulus traitor,” the woman snarled, grasping the odd-looking tool from her partner.
“Hariasa and I will break you,” Calian added.
“You can try,” I taunted. I had never been tortured before. Never been wounded other than the broken Circles. But I was bred to withstand this very thing. There was no point in hiding it now: I would show them the true strength of the Circulus.
The first lash struck my lower leg. Just a light touch, like a tease between lovers. I chuckled at Hariasa’s attempt at foreplay. She didn’t hold back the second time. The whip struck the backs of calves, but it didn’t tear open the skin. She growled and tried again and again, making my calves warm and redden.
“Problem?” I chuckled darkly. Circulus were bred to withstand more than a slap from mere leather. I snorted; it was almost offensive that she presumed to break me with such a weak tool. Her eyes flared with fury, and she tossed the weapon at Calian before picking up something similar. This one had barbed metal and jagged glass tied into the knots. I swallowed and gave her a taunting smirk.
She whipped me. Hard. I inhaled sharply at the pain, but refused to wince. Something warm dripped down my legs. I didn’t get a chance to look before she struck again, exploding with power over and over. The whip met the flesh of my legs, back, chest, and arms. Each time, red flowed from my body. Each time, she asked me a question: What did you tell those you freed? Where is the witch? Who are you? I didn’t utter a damn word other than to curse and taunt them, but their questions revealed something critical—they were scared.
A particularly powerful strike hit my back, making me jerk forward hard. I hissed, gasping for wind. The air refused to enter my lungs, my vision tinting a dark gray along the edges. Somewhere, someone was laughing at my weakness. Perhaps it was Clotho. Or Anastasius. My heart twisted at the betrayal. I was a fool for falling for him. It was a mistake that wouldn’t be made again.
I sucked in a breath between clenched teeth and straightened my spine.
“Is that all you got?” I sneered through the taste of blood.