Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ember
The more time I spend with Scarlett, the more I find myself appreciating her presence. She’s smart. Bright. Quick-witted and sharp.
She also tried to kill Greyson when he pushed her too far, which automatically earns her points of respect in my book. I appreciate anyone who has the fortitude to stand up for themselves despite trying circumstances.
“So, you’re saying you could engineer plants to secrete a specific poison—one never before seen?”
“A hybrid of known poisons, yes,” Scarlett says.
“It’s a holistic approach. I could stand in a chemistry lab and mix and match compounds, synthetic or natural, until they have the desired outcome—or I can engineer life that’ll create something entirely new.
I’m thinking of crossing the nightshade, oleander, and hemlock.
It’s super tricky, though, since those flowers aren’t naturally compatible for cross breeding, so I’ll need to alter their DNA a bit.
” She sighs. “It’d be nice to have a chemist in the lab with me, or someone with more experience in gene editing, but I’ll manage—”
Several beeps sound on the door, then it swings open. Scarlett sets down the Oreo pack she was picking at, eyes sparkling as she turns to face the door.
Max comes in first—Greyson stands in the doorway and beckons Scarlett to him. Both men wear morose expressions, as if they’re about to attend a funeral.
Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. Whatever alarm Maximus got, it led to terrible news. He’s staring at me with an expression of sheer devastation, barely-underscored by anger.
The only reason I could see for him staring at me like that is…
No.
I don’t realize I’ve said it aloud until Max’s lips thin and his eyes start to shine with something that look suspiciously like tears.
“No,” I repeat, the word slick with terror.
“What’s going on?” Scarlett’s voice is a little shrill. She’s caught on to the tension.
“Let’s go talk in our room, Flower,” Greyson says.
“No—what’s going on?” she demands.
“Scarlett.” Greyson’s tone is seeped in warning. “Come.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on—”
“Now, or I’ll make you.”
Scarlett stiffens at the threat. She casts me one last, uncertain look, then stumbles out of the apartment, ignoring Greyson’s outstretched hand.
He locks eyes with Max. Shakes his head. Mutters, “Fuck.”
And then he’s gone.
“Come here,” Max says.
“I’m not Scarlett. Threats don’t work on me.” Well, maybe there is one… and something’s telling me that nightmare’s about to become my reality.
“Max,” I whisper. “Tell me it’s not what I’m thinking.”
“I can explain—”
“Tell me it’s not what I’m thinking!” I yell.
He falls utterly still and utterly silent. Shakes his head and drags a hand through his unruly hair. It looks like he’s been doing that a lot recently.
“Let me explain.” The words are a plea. He’s begging me, for the first time in memory.
This man who’s bent tyrants to his will to acquire me and keep me.
This boy who was once my first kiss… and perhaps even my first love.
“Ember, please,” he says.
I stand up. Smooth down my shirt. Then, I walk over to the dining table and take a seat. I fold my hands on my lap to hide the way they’re trembling.
I know what he’s about to say, even before he says it. He takes a seat beside me, loops a hand around the leg of my chair, and drags it over until it's right next to him. It looks effortless—his strength rarely ceases to amaze me.
But now isn’t the time to care about strength.
“Dagon abducted Cain’s chosen,” he says quietly.
My heart drops to my stomach. The world seems to stop spinning along with my heart, which misses at least five beats. Goosebumps break out over my skin like a rash.
“I didn’t know Cain had a Chosen,” is what escapes my lips. I’ve never met the girl.
“He hasn’t brought her here yet, but they have history together.” Max swallows. “From what I can tell, she’s his single weakness.”
I release a bitter laugh. “Dagon’s specialty is rooting out people’s weaknesses and using them as leverage.” It’s how he kept control over me for five years, after all.
“I know.” Max is quiet, withdrawn. “Dagon’s requested a trade from Cain. You for her.”
“And Cain agreed.”
“Yes.”
My bottom lip trembles, startling me. I trap it between my teeth, biting down until I taste blood.
I never lost my fear of Dagon, no matter how much time I spent with him.
Over the years, it stopped affecting me as it should, but after my recent distance from him…
my desensitization has gone down. I’m horrified at the thought of seeing him again, especially since I’ve broken every rule he’s set for me.
Always return to him.
Never let another man fuck me.
Give him my complete loyalty.
He’s hurt me badly before, but I know that’ll pale in comparison to the pain I’m about to experience at his hands. He might actually maim me for this, or kill me—but my death won’t be pleasant or easy.
“You promised,” I whisper brokenly. “You promised that the debt was cleared. That I’d never go back to Dagon.”
“Flame—”
“You fucking promised!” I scream, heaving in a shuttering breath.
“Do you know what he’s going to do to me, Maximus?
” I pause, shaking my head. “Of course you don’t.
I don’t even know, but it’ll be beyond the bounds of cruelty.
He’s going to invent new ways to torture me, and you’re just going to—” I cut off with a heave, “—give me back to him?”
“We’ll get you out,” Max says fervently. “We’ll—”
I cut him off with a cruel laugh. “You won’t. He’s going to bury me alive. He’s going to take me where people can’t be found. He’s going to—”
I stand up. My entire body is trembling with the impending doom I feel creeping over the back of my neck. I’m so terrified I can’t even think… which is the first thing that needs to change.
Maximus catches my wrist and drags me back down to his lap. He wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face in my neck.
In an instant, my fear turns to pure, unadulterated rage. I tear myself out of his arms, and fall on him like a rabid beast. I pummel him with my fists, tear into his skin with my nails, even contemplate biting out his jugular… but I can’t bring myself to do it.
It takes me several minutes to realize that he’s not fighting back. His jaw is mottled and red, one of his eyes is turning blue, his lip is split in three places, and there are claw marks down the side of his face when I finally stop, because he’s not giving me the fight I’m craving.
He’s accepting the punishment I’m doling out. That really drives home the finality of what’s about to transpire.
“Cain doesn’t give a shit about what we do once he has his Chosen in his arms,” Max says when I falter.
He turns his head and spits a gob of saliva and blood on the ground, then returns to staring at me.
“You might have to walk over to Dagon, but he’s not taking you.
I won’t fucking let him. I’ll kill him and—”
I cut him off with raucous, cruel laughter.
“You don’t know Dagon,” I say harshly between shrill laughs that make me sound as crazy as I feel.
“I do. And I can tell you, Maximus, that he’s already considered possibilities.
The moment I arrive to that exchange, everything will already be said and done.
He’ll anticipate your moves before you make them.
So… spare me the bullshit. And don’t ever, ever touch me again. ”
I turn and walk away from him. Go to the bedroom, slam the door shut behind me, and for the first time in years, I let myself sob.
I cry like a child until my throat is raw and my tear ducts have run empty. I cry until my abdomen contracts with the force of my sobs. Only when my sorrow and pain has been expelled do I rinse my face in the bathroom.
Then, I start to plan.
Max doesn’t come to bed that night. I keep expecting him to walk through the door, either with a demand that I kneel or join him for food, but he leaves me be.
That hurts more than I care to admit, but that also helps me do what needs to be done.
I rummage around in the bathroom until I find what I need, spend an hour getting it into place, and another hour fixing the damage.
The pain is bad, but it’s a nice reminder of what’s to come… and this pain might be my only shot of surviving Dagon, so I take it, and I revel in it.
Morning comes. Max still does not have the guts to show his face in front of me.
I don’t go to him, and I ignore the slight ache in my chest that prompts me to reconcile with him before I never see him again. He doesn’t deserve reconciliation or forgiveness.
He deserves to rot in fucking hell for committing the worst sin of all.
Giving me hope.
I trained that feeling out of myself. I lived life free of its constraints for half a decade. I made myself into a robot… and Max swiftly and succinctly tore down the layers protecting me, exposing me to my worst fault of all.
The existence of my humanity.
I contemplate killing him once and for all, but decide to let him live so he can suffer through the misery of what he’s done. I hope it eats him alive. I hope it drives him to put a gun to his head and—
No. I can’t even make myself think the thought.
Evening falls, and the terror I was feeling fades.
Dagon will not get me alive. I’ve ensured it.
So, when Cain walks into the bedroom, I’m ready. I’ve smothered out the feeling of traitorous hope I felt.
“He’s that much of a coward, then?” I ask. “He won’t even take me himself?”
Cain appraises me with a cool stare. “Max is many things, several of them less than admirable. A coward has never been one of them.”
I scoff. “Right.”
“Come on,” he says. “Don’t be difficult. I’m not in a lenient mood.”
I gather every morsel of hopelessness, stand, and follow him to my death.