Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Zac
Igrunt as the same knee—the one that’s been slamming up into my ribs for the last half hour—crushes into my stomach again. Air rips out of me. Time is lost down here, the yellow light bulb flickering overhead. My chains jangle with each breath.
I’m utterly numb. Copper is all I can taste. Minutes have blurred into punches. Someone is laughing. Someone else is swearing. Someone keeps saying my name like it’s a joke.
My experience of The Cell has been different to what I’ve heard it’s like, and not in a good way. It would seem breaking Law One warrants far harsher punishment.
Kayla screams somewhere beyond the wall of my cage. It’s almost raw, utterly animalistic, a sound that makes my teeth ache. I want to move. I want to lunge, to attack, to help.
Instead, I grit my teeth until they ache, knowing that anything I do would be pointless.
I’m useless.
I won’t get far, and if anything, I’ll just make things worse for both of us.
The Enforcer in front of me steps back, and another takes his place, raising his fist without even pausing and slamming it as hard as he can into my face. Stars explode behind my eyes, head swinging back, the chains holding me up clanging above. Blood coats my tongue.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I rasp, voice shredded. I spit, dark blood splattering over his uniform, and fight the urge to smirk.
He sneers. Another hand launches towards my face, and my head flies back, skull practically rattling. My head pounds, legs almost giving out beneath me. These bastards are such cocky fucking pricks when their prisoner is chained up, and it’s four against one.
I count every blow, memorising them and their faces, ready for the day the roles are flipped. I’ll be the first to snap their necks when I hunt down Germain and stab her through the heart. The thought keeps me warm; keeps me alive.
Between blows, my mind wanders to Emilia.
I’m determined to ignore the fact that the sight of her plump lips curved into that taunting smile and those sparkling blue eyes that are always brimming with attitude, haunt me every waking moment.
What I can’t ignore is the worry filling my gut.
Have they questioned her? Hurt her? Carted her off to a similar cell?
After all, according to the rules, she is equally responsible.
Another guard approaches, the flickering light glinting off the blade in his hand. He grins, a sadistic smile as his mate laughs. Fucking pricks.
He swings hard, and the knife slices into my bicep. My vision swims. The world narrows to the agony that surges under my skin as it splits, the laughter from the others, and Kayla’s screams that cut over everything else. The blood on my tongue tastes like defeat.
This is exactly why I never wanted anything to do with Emilia. She didn’t deserve to be dragged into my mess of a life; the mess that I seem to attract, no matter what.
Strangely though, it wasn’t this that I’ve been fighting to keep her away from. The Resistance is the thing that I thought would expose her innocence to unnecessary torture, grief, and hurt.
I was wrong.
Instead, it was me.