Chapter Fifteen #2
Clarise and Zayn shared a cell, though they were both in shackles on opposite ends. Far enough that they couldn’t reach one another but close enough for me to question them both at once.
As I approached their cell and opened the door, Clarise looked up.
The right side of her mouth curved into a mocking grin, and I was immediately taken back to those parties where she had handled my body as if it belonged to her.
I suppressed the shiver that ran up my spine as her eyes drank in my figure. She would not be smiling soon.
“Did you come to see me?”
“Where is Reyna?”
“Tsk, tsk. That’s not a very kind way to greet me.”
My magic rattled the ground underneath her feet, and she shook violently. When the rumbling stopped, she tugged against her shackles, looking agitated by my unspoken threat.
“It’s not so fun, is it?” I asked. “When you’re the one who’s powerless, at the mercy of another?”
“This is—”
“Shut up,” Zayn interrupted. “Don’t say another word.”
I tilted my head and appraised him. Unlike his companion, he couldn’t even look me in the eye. He stared at the metal shackles around his ankles, barely moving an inch. I moved closer, grabbing his chin and forcing it up so he had no choice but to meet my stare.
“And what about you, hmm? Do you know where your bitch tyrant is hiding?”
“Fuck you,” he spat.
Clearly, neither of them understood the lengths I was willing to go to find Reyna and see her head severed from her body.
I sighed, pulling out a lethal carving knife. It was time to get messy.
Before Zayn had time to react, I grabbed his hand and sawed through his pinky finger. It only took a few passes back and forth before his digit fell to the floor, and his screams followed shortly after.
Clarise let out a horrified noise that sounded like she was choking on her own vomit. Perhaps she was beginning to understand what kind of vengeance would be coming her way too.
I pulled a handkerchief out of my pocket and wiped the blood off my knife. “Let’s try this again,” I said calmly. “Where is Reyna?”
Zayn trembled with rage and pain. “I’m not telling you anything. You’ll have to do much worse than that.”
Honestly, I’d expected nothing less. If Reyna found out that anyone in her inner circle had betrayed her, she’d kill them slowly and cruelly. But Zayn and Clarise didn’t seem to realize I would do the same if they didn’t talk.
I rubbed my jaw and pretended to be impressed with his valiant display of loyalty and bravery.
He barely noticed as I slowly sent dust and dirt to fill his throat, blocking his airway until he began to cough and sputter uncontrollably.
I sent it into his eyes too, and he blinked and thrashed his head back and forth, desperately shaking it out.
Once I let up, I removed his second finger effortlessly, and he screamed again. His cheeks turned red as he fought hard to keep his secrets to himself.
While I let Zayn’s pain simmer, I moved on to Clarise. It would be easier to break them if I kept them on their toes. Never knowing what stunt I would pull next.
“And you,” I said, pointing my knife at Clarise. Her face drained of color as I approached. Perhaps she would be easier to break.
She tried to retreat as I stepped closer, but the chains held her in place. “Wait,” she pleaded. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know where she is.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said. Then I grabbed her arm, squeezing harshly while I took the edge of my blade and sliced a thin layer of skin away from her flesh.
She screamed, and the gash in her arm began to fill with blood.
It wasn’t deep enough to gush, just enough to expose the delicate, sensitive layer of skin underneath.
I took the tip of the knife and trailed it along her exposed flesh, and she cried out again.
“Please, I swear I know nothing!”
“You know, every time I felt your hands on me, it felt like I was being burned alive. It felt like my body was being ripped apart—tainted and poisoned by some flesh-eating disease. I couldn’t scrub it off, no matter how hard I tried. You and your friends did that to me. Reyna did that to me.”
Tears streamed down her face, and I caught them with the knife, scraping the tip against her cheek. She jolted back but could only move an inch before hitting the wall.
I dragged the knife through her open wound again, and she gritted her teeth. “I’m going to need you to tell me something useful. Before I take more of your skin like you did mine.”
“Ladon?”
I spun around to find Emilie staring at me. She didn’t seem frightened, despite the bloody knife in my hand and the crazed expression I was certain I wore.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, reaching for her and nudging her out of the cell.
I closed it behind me and locked it. We walked far enough that we could speak in hushed tones but close enough I could keep my eye on our two prisoners.
They weren’t going anywhere, but I also didn’t want to give them a chance to talk.
It would be better for us if they didn’t have a moment to come up with lies to feed us.
“You said I could be a part of this,” Emilie said. Her brows pinched together like she was hurt that I’d excluded her. Not at all concerned about what I’d just been doing to Clarise.
“I know, but…”
“But what?”
“The things that I will have to do in order to get information are not going to be pretty, Emilie. I don’t want you to see this. To think less of me, or view me as a monster.”
I didn’t feel like the bad guy in this situation. In fact, I felt righteous about the pain and suffering I wanted to inflict, and I thought that might be worse. Emilie would never be impressed with this version of me. The one who sought revenge.
“Ladon, I would never think less of you for retaliating.” She pointed to Zayn and Clarise. “Those people are the real monsters, not you. How many times do I have to tell you we are in this together? I want to see them pay just as much as you do.”
My gaze darted between her and the two prisoners.
I still wasn’t sold on the idea, but I couldn’t deny her the opportunity when she was so adamant.
And maybe I was being too protective of her.
She was smart enough to understand what she was asking for.
“Okay. But if it’s too much, say the word and we can stop. ”
She nodded. There was no fear in her eyes—only determination. “I understand.”
Together we re-entered the cell, and Emilie stayed near the door.
“Now, where were we? I think it’s your turn again,” I said, moving closer to Zayn.
The blood loss and trauma to his hand had him hanging limply from his shackles, but he focused his attention on me.
“I don’t want to take another finger, Zayn.
I would much rather hear whatever info you have on Reyna. Tell me and we can be done with this.”
He grumbled, his eyes wandering the room. It took a second before I realized they’d landed on Emilie. I grabbed his face again, demanding he look back at me. “No, no, Zayn. She is not yours to behold.”
He chuckled. “I still see the memory of her cunt every time I close my eyes.”
He barely had time to finish his sentence before my fist connected with his mouth. I reached for his hand with my knife ready to sever the next finger when Emilie spoke.
“Wait.”
She grabbed my arm, and it would’ve been easy to shake her off, but I let her restrain me.
I gave her a questioning look. “Emilie, this man—”
“I know what he’s done.” She eyed him with a level of hatred and disdain that I’d only ever seen her display toward one other individual.
And he deserved every bit of it. When she spoke again, it was hardly more than a whisper.
“I still feel their eyes on me. I hate being in a crowded room of people because it brings me back to those nights. I’m suspicious of anyone who looks at me for more than a few seconds.
It makes me shake. It makes me nauseous. ”
I nodded. It was the same for me. When someone bumped into me, I grew aggravated. A simple handshake or hug from my own mother made me want to scrub a layer of my skin off. Every day was a reminder that although we were safe, we would never be the same.
Emilie held my gaze for a few more seconds, eyes filled with angry tears. Then she turned back to Zayn. “I don’t want his fingers. I want his eyes.”
She turned to face Clarise and sneered down at her. There was something fiercely protective and possessive in the way she spat, “And I want her hands and tongue.”
The parts that had been all over me without my permission.
Clarise made a panicked noise and pleaded once again. “I don’t know anything. I swear I don’t.”
But I was still watching Emilie with admiration. She looked at me with a nod of reassurance. I smiled in return.
I’d give her whatever she wanted.