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He is right. If freed from being bound to this wall, I’d act without a single thought. There would be no consideration for whether my attack would hurt the others. There is too much history here for rational thought.
“Then get on with it. Whatever you’re going to do.”
“My thoughts exactly. Your relationship with the female subject has posed quite an issue for us. We need the ultimate soldier who is loyal, dutiful, and complies without thought or complaint.” He traces the wolf’s head on the top of his cane. “But with you and that…girl, your only loyalty is to her. Your only care in the world is her.”
And his point is? Kalidus says slowly, flooding my mind with a superior cockiness.
“I’d like to rearrange your priorities. It’ll take some conditioning with the new Mind Phantom chemical we fashioned, but I’m certain that after this trial, we’ll be able to…fix you.”
My lungs tighten.
“And after that success, we’ll be able to fix her.”
A laugh booms across the room. Warrose’s laugh. Dark and edgy like unfinished, onyx marble.
“You think that kind of love can be altered?” He chuckles again. “Then you’re even dumber than you are ugly.”
I smirk, though it doesn’t touch the fire in my eyes.
Masten slides his glare to Warrose, revealing a subtle curling of his upper lip. My heart rate picks up at the simple movement. It was always a tell when we were younger that Warrose’s smart mouth was about to earn him a beating.
“Any fantasy can be altered with the right motivation.” Masten nods his head at Kaspias.
Kaspias takes one step forward, jabbing the bright orange end of a fire poker into Warrose’s left side. He hits a sensitive part of Warrose’s core, the space over his ribs, clustered with nerves that explode under the heat of the poker.
Warrose grunts, taking deep, angry breaths to absorb the pain. He channels it into silent rage. This isn’t new to either of us. Those scars disguised as tattoos have taught him much about pain management.
Kaspias laughs irritably, glancing over his shoulder at Masten for further instruction. And I refuse to plead or beg for them to spare my friend. It’s a silent understanding between the two of us. If they know our weakness, they can control us. We are easily able to withstand torture, so it won’t be a problem to ice them out.
But something in Masten’s glazed-over eyes makes me second guess myself. He is thinking of a way around our little arrangement. After all, he was part of the reason we grew so skilled with accepting torture.
“It looks like the other one is no stranger to fire, hmm?”
The other one.
I hear one word that comes out in a plea, the way a child who begged for a light to be turned on so they wouldn’t have to sleep in the dark.
“No,” Niles breathes.
“I bet he’d respond well to the poker, don’t you think?” Masten directs to Kaspias.
“Please, God,” Niles rasps, struggling against the impenetrable metal that bolts us to the wall.
My heart sinks into my stomach. Warrose and I could have easily made it through whatever they had to throw at us. But it’s Niles. He isn’t like us, but he is family.
The sizzle of hot metal burning into skin spears through the giant room like a stick of dynamite. Niles’s screams follow, making me lose my breath.
“I’m here, alright? I can’t go anywhere! There’s no need to hurt him!” I order with a furiousness lining the edges of my words.
Kaspias pulls the fire poker away, grinning at the quick submission on my behalf.
“Just get the fuck on with whatever you’re going to do,” I add. I’m confident in my brain’s ability to protect itself. We’ve been through so much already in our lifetimes.
“Good, I’m glad you see it that way,” Masten replies as he prepares a glass syringe.
Niles moans in agony and what must be PTSD flashbacks. I’ll do whatever they want just for them to stay the fuck away from my friend. I never expected that thought to cross my mind regarding Niles of all people. But here we stand.
“Hold still,” Masten commands, sticking me in the neck with the syringe filled with yellow liquid.
