AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And the crowd turns from stunned to skeptical to outraged. The next moment combusts into masculine chaos. The tavern seems to decide on our fraudulent status collectively, telepathically. The cave rages with violence in the blink of an eye.
They rush Dessin like a tidal wave of white hair, black leather, and snakelike movements. They are trained. And they are deadly.
But no matter how good they might be, Dessin is worse. As I whip my head back to him, he doesn’t look nervous, doesn’t seem overwhelmed. He’s a plague of destruction.
Their attacks are clean and precise, but Dessin anticipates every fist, every kick with calculated maneuvers. He uses them against each other, ducking when someone swings, knocking out their fellow comrades. His arms are deadly whips, devastating detonators of impact. They can’t react fast enough. It’s as if his actions are choreographed. Preplanned. A death dance. A symphony of organized chaos.
Except this cave is a fortress to them. They must have prepared for intruders over centuries of paranoia. Generations of planning. Two contraptions of chains fall from the ceiling, a cage of metal thorns trapping him midfight.
“No!” I howl, but it’s too late. A pair of arms wrap around my body, keeping me from running to him. “Dessin!” I scream, watching blood drip down his arms from the spikes that puncture him in place. He can’t escape without tearing holes into his muscles. And I know he would do it. He sees my struggle. That stare of insidious intent and possessiveness takes over.
I’m being hauled backward. But I kick and scream, thrashing against their hold. This is my fault! I’m the reason we blew our cover. I’m the reason Dessin had to fight at all.
“Please,” I beg, my screams hoarse and rusty.
A woman dressed in a full-body lingerie set pulls a red poker from the giant fireplace, rushing to Dessin’s cage, handing it to a man that seems to be in charge.
“Who sent you?” He taunts Dessin with the blazing tool, sizzling with unbearable heat.
But Dessin is silent, in fact, he’s not even paying attention. His eyes have gone vacant, distant, unable to process the new information.
Is he… Is he switching alters? NOW? Who could possibly be more capable of handling this situation than him?!
He blinks, adjusting his focus on the poker. His gaze is lighter, less violent, and unlike anything I’ve seen from him. He’s excited.
“How hot is it?” this new alter asks, breaking into a poisonous smile. “Is it searing? Hot enough to burn through flesh?”
The man holding the poker pauses, resting the sharp tip on the bar of his cage.
“Go on,” the alter croons. “I’m itching to feel it.”
What?
That voice never loses its weight that drops down to my gut. It’s deep and low, but with a wicked humor and playfulness that I haven’t heard. He likes the pain.
Trauma.
This alter was split to withstand torture. An alter that would enjoy it.
A shiver melts over my skin. I break out into a sweat, trembling in the arms of my captors.
No… I can’t let him go through this. I don’t care if this alter enjoys it or not. It’s my fault. He won’t suffer because of my stupidity.
“Stop! He’ll never talk but I will!” I shout to the man waving around the unconventional weapon.
The new alter turns his head to me, faster than taking a breath. “Don’t.”
The man with charred eyes and wispy lashes barks a laugh at me, turning back to the new alter to begin the interrogation.
But I see the flaming pointed end of the tool inching to his flesh, and I can’t hold myself together. Tears spring to my eyes in a flash flood. I had to sit silently while he was tortured in the asylum. I had to hold myself together. But not here. Not again.
My agony is unleashed. I lurch forward, despite the unbreakable arms around me. And I let out the most devastating sound that has ever left my lips.
A cry for help.
A howl of endless torment.
It ripples out of my lungs like a never-ending horn of battle.
