Chapter 6
LIAM
I reach for the toolkit Kai left on the workbench. Pliers, a scalpel, a hammer. Precise, purposeful tools. Her eyes track the movement. She’s pale, but she isn’t breaking. Her hands tremble against the zip ties, but she doesn’t beg. Fuck, I want her to beg.
It’s been two days. Most people would have pissed themselves by now. If I wasn’t seething, I might be at least a little impressed. Rebel always was tougher than most people gave her credit for. She’s got the face of an angel and the heart of a lion.
“Boss.” Kai’s voice cuts through the red mist, his arms folded across his broad chest.
“Not now, Kai.” I test the edge of the scalpel with my thumb. The blade is sharp enough to split skin without resistance.
Rowan gasps.
I smirk, holding her gaze until she pulls away and looks back at the ground.
“Boss,” Kai interjects again, his voice firmer now.
I snap my gaze to him. “What?”
He cocks his head, walking a few feet away. As much as it irks me, I follow. Kai is a loyal soldier and a good friend. He must have something worth hearing. Something he doesn’t want Rowan to overhear.
“This better be good,” I grit out.
“Look at her.” Kai’s tone is low and devoid of the rage currently blinding me.
He jerks his chin toward where Rowan’s slumped in the chair.
“She’s either the best actress in the British Isles, or she’s genuinely shocked.
You start cutting now, you’re just breaking an already broken toy.
You won’t get answers; you’ll just get a corpse. ”
“She owes me five years of suffering.” My grip tightens on the handle of the blade.
“And she can’t pay that debt if she’s catatonic,” Kai counters, an edge to his voice I’m not used to hearing.
He gestures around the warehouse—the grime, the cold, the flickering light.
“You want the truth? This isn’t the way to get it from a woman like her.
Fear won’t break her. Not in the way you want. ”
His words slam into me. Goddammit. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. Broken things don’t talk.
“Take her to the manor,” Kai suggests, his tone holding a hint of deference. “Lock her in a room. Let her see what she threw away. Let the family get a look at her. If she’s faking amnesia, she’ll trip up over a memory before she trips up over a blade.”
The idea of showing her kindness feels like another betrayal, another gash to an already bleeding wound. But Kai works close to me for a reason.
I glance over my shoulder. Rowan’s still, eyes watching us, breathing shallow like she’s trying to make herself small. Her blue eyes dart between us like a trapped bird.
“Fine,” I bite out through gritted teeth, placing the scalpel back in the toolkit. I return to her, leaning close to her one last time, close enough to smell fear and salt on her skin.
My breath ghosts over her ear. She freezes. “We’re going home, Rebel. But don’t think for a second that the bars there are any softer just because they’re made of gold.”
A cage is still a fucking cage.