Chapter 28
Ryven
It’s been seventy-two hours since we locked Jerod in the basement. I only just learned his name. He’s pissed himself more than once—and we haven’t laid a finger on him.
I run my metal rod along the bars of the cage, making a show of the act for the four silent onlookers on the back wall. They wan’t to see me be the monster they believe I’ve turned into. Jarod scoots closer to the back corner in a small ball.
“Doesn’t matter how small you curl, Jerod,” I mock. “Your time’s still coming.”
He frantically shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
I tsk. Even though I know he did nothing wrong. “Well, you came home without your partner. Which means you left him behind.”
“But I didn’t kill him!”
“Doesn’t matter! You left him. Dead or alive, you bring your people home!” I bang the pipe along the metal bars for emphasis.
Another puddle spreads beneath him and regret forms in my chest. I did this. I let this happen and now to keep Rory safe, I’m going to let this man fall for it. “I’m sorry! I panicked!”
“Will you get it together? Stop pissing on yourself already!” My stomach twists. I’m yelling to sell the act. I hate this. I hate every fucking part of this.
The basement door slams shut behind me and Jarod begins to shake. I turn just as Cedric walks over to the table in the center of the room and lays a satchel onto it. One by one, he pulls out different tools and puts them in front of him.
“What are your plans?” I try to swallow the lump that’s begun forming in my throat. Nothing good happens when he brings his tools down here.
Cedric chuckles but doesn’t look over at Jerod. “Not me, my boy. You.”
I jolt and tilt my head. This isn’t about Jerod. This is about me proving something. “And what might that be?”
He offers me a pair of pruning shears. “Cut off a finger.” He says it so casually. Like I’m going to prune a plant or something that’s not living. He doesn’t see Jerod for what he is–human.
I nod and grip the shears. A little tighter then I mean to. When I look over my shoulder, Jerod is trembling. His hands are clutched under him and he’s shaking his head.
Knowing I’m being watched by everyone in here, I walk over to his cage and tap the shears on the bars. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
He shakes his head and pulls his hands closer to his body.
I let out an exasperated sigh, trying to hide the weight of how heavy my chest feels right now. “I guess we’ll be doing it the hard way.”
I pocket the shears and unlock his cage, then inch inside to yank him by whatever I can reach.
It just so happens to be his pant leg, and I tug him toward the front.
He kicks and curses, but I don’t flinch.
He should feel lucky Cedric is only ordering for one finger to be cut off.
He could lose his life right now, and Cedric wouldn’t bat an eye.
“Stop being an idiot!” I yell as he kicks my knuckles, forcing out a hiss from my lips.
I dig inside one last time, snatching him free of the cage and then sit on him to hold him in place. He bucks, screams, and hits as hard as he can, but it still doesn’t slow me.
Finally, I grab him by the throat and squeeze until he calms. “Want to lose the whole hand, or are you going to be smart and offer a finger?”
He contemplates my words for a moment and then his body relaxes. “Just the finger, please.” His voice breaks on the word please.
I tap his face. “Good boy.” I draw the shears, my hand trembling slightly as I line up his finger—and press before he can change his mind.
His screams echo throughout the basement as the pain takes over. I rise off of him and let him roll into the fetal position, holding his injured hand close to him.
Marching over to the table, I remove a white rag from the bag and toss it over to him. “Wrap it. You don’t want it to get infected.”
I drop the shears on the table.
One finger buys me one more day.
That’s the lie I tell myself to sleep. Because I know his screams will follow me.
The water is scalding—just how I want it. I need to burn this day off me. I can still feel the weight of the shears in my hand. I know Jerod was punished for leaving a brother behind, but it’s my fault he was in this predicament in the first place.
I know Rory wants her revenge, and I want the same thing, but over the years I’ve grown slightly attached to the other members of the cult.
There are many of us who went through training together.
Even if you try to resist, the bond forms. Bleeds in.
Stains you. I still want them all dead, but I allow myself to feel some guilt over them.
My phone dings from the counter just outside the shower, and I dry my hand to see who it is.
I’m walking into your house, don’t fucking shoot me.
Rory. I chuckle, toss the phone aside, and step under the spray.
She’s wise to text me beforehand. I’ve been known to pull a gun on her on multiple occasions.
“Where have you been for the past three days?” Her voice comes from the doorway.
“I’ve been busy,” I mumble, then say, “Cleaning up your mess as usual.”
I hear her scoff, then there’s a shuffling on the other side of the curtain. After a moment, the curtain moves, and a naked Rory steps into the shower with me.
“What do you mean cleaning up my messes?” She lowers the temperature so it isn’t so hot and then moves me out of the way so she can stand under it.
I’m so taken aback by what just happened, that my heart stills, and I just sit there, staring at her. This is my fucking shower… I was definitely here first…
She snaps her fingers in front of me. “Hello, earth to Ryven.”
I focus on her and smirk. “Just cleaning up after your latest mess—killing a cult member, as usual.” I finish running my hands through my hair to push the shampoo through it.
She raises her brow as she places her head under the water. “Don’t you mean our mess?”
I shake my head. “You killed the wrong guy, Ro.” I smirk, because of course she did.
She meets my eyes like she’d kill him again right now if she could. “There’s no such thing as a wrong guy, Ryven. We got a member, and that’s all that matters.”
I’m standing in a shower I used to wash blood off my hands.
Now she’s here, and all I want is to feel her against me instead.