Chapter Two
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Ily
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I SCREAMED AS FURIOUS MEN stood over Henri and kicked him.
A mob of them.
A swarm.
A never-ending punishment of savage fists and chaos.
It went on forever.
A sickening eternity.
The heavy thuds of their abuse.
The godawful grunts as Henri suffered.
“Stop it!” I yelled. “Stop, please!”
The guards only grew more vicious.
Sweat rivered down their temples, bodies wounded, blood drawn, doing their best to kick him to death.
I lost sight of Henri as he stayed down.
My ears rang for any sound that he’d survived.
“STOP IT!” I sobbed.
Peter grabbed my hand and squeezed. Our palms slicked together, smearing blood. His blood. My blood. It didn’t matter. We both wore injuries from our own punishments, and my bones ached from two Masters hitting me.
None of that mattered because if they kill him...
“You have to stop!” I tried to crawl around a few Masters’ legs, barring us in a cage by the cave wall. “Please don’t kill him!”
Victor blew me a kiss from across the temple.
A few guards shifted, creating a window into their ring of violence. I gasped as I noticed Henri prone and unmoving on the ground. His legs at an unnatural angle. His face covered in blood. His back contorted as if someone had snapped his spine.
Nausea gushed.
This can’t be happening.
Please...let me wake up.
Let this all be a horrendous nightmare.
Bowing my head, I closed my eyes and did my best to be anywhere but there.
Would I sense him if he died?
Would my soul slice in two when his slipped free?
Henri, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry I can’t stop them.
I closed my eyes as thud after thud, grunt after grunt echoed in the cave as the guards kept driving Henri closer to his grave.
I rocked and keened, tears flowing down my cheeks even as Peter hugged me close and whispered things I couldn’t hear into my ear.
This was worse than Henri dying.
This was a thousand times worse because he’d be in so much pain, so much suffering.
His death wasn’t quick. His death dragged on and on, and if I had the ability to end his excruciating existence by setting him free, I would have.
I would take his hand and walk with him into that blinding light and leave this awful, horrible world behind.
And what of the jewels?
“Don’t look, Ily,” Peter breathed. “Don’t look.”
I shuddered as Peter pressed a kiss to my temple, his grief tangling with mine.
I’d stayed true to him and the others all this time.
Everything I did and every day I survived was to save them.
But in that cave, listening to them beat my twin flame to death, I turned selfish.
If I had the choice to stop Henri’s torture and die with him...I would.
I would turn my back on my family and every jewel if it meant Henri would be free.
A wracking sob fell out of me as my eyes flickered open, and through the grimy gloss of tears, I watched a guard pull his foot back and kick Henri right in the jaw. In the forest of legs, Henri’s head snapped back, his body twitched, and then...nothing.
The guards all stopped.
The Masters didn’t say a word.
Henri didn’t move.
His chest didn’t rise.
His eyes didn’t open.
H-He’s dead...
What did that say about our connection that I didn’t feel him leaving me? How was he the missing piece of my soul if I didn’t feel that piece fly away?
I tried to crawl to him as the guards broke their circle and returned to an orderly line by the wall—some hunched and holding the many wounds Henri had given them, some ripping their shirts and wrapping makeshift bandages to staunch the stabbings he’d delivered.
Not one of them looked untouched.
Henri had managed to hurt every single one, and in return...they’d killed him.
Heavy breathing replaced the sounds of abuse.
No one uttered a word.
My skin prickled.
My heart ached.
Victor pushed away from the exit and prowled toward the ruined man on the ground. Sniffing and pulling out a pristine white handkerchief from his breast pocket, he toed Henri and wrinkled his nose. “I said stop him, not kill him.”
“Sorry, Sir.” One of the guards bowed his head. “We were only protecting you.”
“Yes, yes.” Victor wiped his handkerchief along his upper lip as if he already smelled the sickly stench of death. Glancing around the cave, he sighed heavily. “Well, tonight hasn’t gone as planned, has it?”
Larry stepped forward and tore off his mask. He grinned like the devil. “Least he’s been dealt with. Never liked that cocksucker.”
Victor didn’t reply. His eyes returned to Henri twisted and mangled on the cave rock. A flicker of annoyance followed by frustration etched his face. “I really wish you hadn’t killed him.” He raked a hand through his perfect greying blond hair. “I had plans for him.”
Plans?
Ice frosted my spine.
“Sorry, Sir,” a few guards muttered.
Victor’s reptilian gaze met mine.
I flinched and tried to look away, but his pure evil trapped me like a moth drawn to light.
“Ilyana. You truly have a knack for avoiding the fate you deserve.” With a twist of his lips, he cocked his head and studied me.
His eyes narrowed as if he only just realised how much I despised him.
“I suppose you want to die now.” He pointed at Henri. “Now your little lover is dead?”
I choked on a sob.
My eyes fell back on Henri.
He still hadn’t moved, hadn’t breathed.
I gave up hoping for goodness to win. I gave up believing we would get free.
Nothing but blackness existed inside me, and I sank deep, deep into it.
No panic.
No fear.
Just a howling, hollowing emptiness that I wished would suffocate me and finish this.
When I didn’t reply, couldn’t reply, Victor muttered a slur under his breath, then looked at the Masters congregated around Peter and me. “It looks as if there won’t be a Diamond Kiss tonight, after all.”
A ripple of disappointed moans. “Ah, come now, Vic. Just because it turned into a shit show, doesn’t mean the main event can’t take place.”
Roland stepped forward, his belly round and black cape dragging on the ground.
“How about we put him on the altar and carve him up? I’m sure his blood will be drenched with stress.
We could have a snack before the harvest.” He flicked a look at Peter.
“Afterward, we can have our little cleaner mop up the mess and then bid on who will be the lucky one to carve out Ilyana’s heart. ”
Peter snarled like a cornered animal beside me.
I waited for the surge of sickness and survival. Would I try to fight one last time? Would I ignore the agony of so many kicks and punches I’d endured and throw myself into a final attempt at freedom?
Or...should I just accept?
Accept and let it happen.
If I die, I can find him again.
Shifting onto my bloody knees, I held my chin high. “Do it, you sick bastard. Do it so I don’t have to look at you anymore.”
Peter choked. “Ily!”
Roland bared his teeth, stalking into me with fists clenched. “Why, you little—”
“Enough,” Victor hissed. “Decorum, if you please. I’ve had quite enough of brawling for one night.
” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to figure out how to salvage his diabolical evening.
Dropping his hand, he looked at Henri again where he lay half on his stomach, half twisted on his side.
The angle of his spine once again filled me with horror that his back was broken.
Lowering to his haunches, Victor pressed two fingers against Henri’s blood-soaked neck, checking for his pulse.
I stopped breathing.
Peter stiffened.
Every Master and guard didn’t move as Victor slowly stood, and a smile spread his lips. Pointing at a bucket full to the brim with seawater by the cupboard of skulls, he ordered, “Dump that on him. Now.”
A guard stepped forward, grabbed the bucket, then sloshed his way to Henri. “All of it, Sir?”
Victor nodded and moved back. “Every drop.”
With a nod, the guard lugged the bucket with two hands, then tipped the entire icy contents over Henri.
I waited for him to wake with a gasp. To splutter and shed the lingering shroud of death.
Nothing.
He didn’t even flinch.
My entire heart fractured.
Victor was mistaken.
Whatever pulse he thought he felt—
“Again,” Victor commanded. “Get another bucket from the rockpool.”
With an obedient nod, the guard vanished behind the stone-carved podium—heading in the same direction where we’d followed Peter a few months ago while doing our best to avoid Emerald Bruises—then came back with the bucket glistening and dripping.
“Roll him onto his back this time. Dump it on his face,” Victor ordered.
“Yes, Sir.” Kicking Henri’s shoulder, the guard tripped back as Henri’s dead arm slapped against his boot. His legs remained crossed as his shoulder blades landed against the dampness of the cave’s floor.
“Do it.” Victor rolled his eyes. “I don’t have all night.”
Without a word, the guard upended a waterfall of ocean directly over Henri’s bruised and bleeding face.
Peter stiffened beside me.
My heart stopped beating.
And in a moment of sheer joy and absolute despair, Henri groaned and choked. His chest convulsed upward as if he’d been shocked with electricity. His mouth parted and gasping, his eyes flaring wide as he drowned.
And then, the waterfall was over, and the only sound in the entire cave was Henri learning to breathe again and a few snickers from the Masters.
Larry stood close by, his eyes glowing with filth. “Seems he lives.”
“Seems so,” Victor said quietly.
Roland groaned. “Just kill him and be done with it, Vic.” He planted a pudgy hand on Peter’s head, making both of us twitch with hate. “I want to get to the Kiss. Henri’s a traitor, just like he was when he first arrived. Get rid of him so we can have the fun you promised.”
Peter gave me a tragic look. His left eye black and swollen. A red cut striping his bottom lip. His collar glimmered with red specks, and his arms were covered in contusions.
I probably looked the same.
But our injuries were nothing compared to Henri’s.