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“Fuck,” Aaron’s voice came down the line. “Leave it. Olivia and I will take him at the other end of that tunnel.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Ash—”
“Focus on Samuel. Find that motherfucker. He’s not leaving here alive.”
With that, I disconnected and turned off my earpiece.
I couldn’t have any interruptions for what was to come.
I had to fucking well focus.
Or I wasn’t going to make it out of here alive.
I shored up my focus and called my beast state out in all its destructive and sadistic fucking glory, knowing I’d need nothing less to deal with this.
And then, with a growl, I started my descent.
He hadn’t made a break for it through the dungeon.
I realized why when I heard Carson’s voice echoing off the walls and down the corridor just outside the dungeon.
“Isobel, we can work together. You don’t need to do this. Come with me, I’ll get you out, then we can rebuild. You’ll be the queen to my king.”
I peered inside seeing him pacing frantically, out of sorts like I’d never seen from him before. His dress pants were dirtied and bloodied from obviously fighting off the attack. His suit jacket was ripped in several places, his tie gone, and his shirt only half buttoned up. His hair was a wild mess of dirt and blood too.
“No, you do this and we both fall,” he went on into his cell phone. “I don’t give a fuck about any of the rest so long as you’re with me. I’ve been searching for you for fucking years, I’m not giving up now. It’s not sick obsession, you’re mine. Lan, too, but he remains as delusional as ever in that regard. Fine, fuck, all right, we’ll put it in writing, the terms of us working together. Where are you? Okay, stay hidden from those foolish shits invading my goddamn home. I’ll come to you, get us out.”
He turned, heading for the dungeon exit back the way he’d come, only to pull up short to a jarring stop when he saw me standing there in the doorway.
It took him a moment to get past his shock.
And then he snickered and gestured around the hellhole, “Feeling nostalgic, were you?”
I took in the cold, dank room, all that ugly concrete—the walls and the floor. A set of chains hung off three walls and then a set hung down from the center where I’d been strung up and left for hours on end many a time. Over by the wall devoid of chains was a long workbench with the various implements that had been used on me and others who him and Samuel had relished punishing over the years.
Leashes, whips, choke collars, shock batons, cattle prods, rusted blades, pistols, dildos, ball and spider gags, hammers and nails, a power drill.
I looked away before I risked the memories compromising my beast state. It was hard enough to draw on it without losing the balance with my rational and strategic side.
“Your desperation is showing,” I spoke, stepping across the threshold. “Begging Isobel to work with you when you know she’ll just use and betray you.”
His eyes narrowed. “You know nothing.”
“I know she hates you. I know she pities you and abhors you in equal measure for your obsession with her.”
“Do you really want to provoke me while we’re standing in your torture chamber?”
“Do you really want to provoke me?”
He zoned in on my hand grasping the butt of my gun.
“You’re going the coward’s route? Too afraid to face me, you need a simple bullet to do your dirty work for you?”
“This is just a tic. Like with my beaded bracelet. Something you caused in me. Just an insight into the deep mental damage you’ve inflicted upon me. Most people wouldn’t be able to get out of bed in the morning if they carried what I do every fucking day. Because of you. Because of that ego and fear that I was better than you, that I would outshine you. And you were right to fear that, because I am better. So much better. Smarter, stronger, the most resilient motherfucker on the planet. That’s why I’m still standing here in spite of everything. In spite of your abuse, your mental attacks, your threats, your torture, even ordering your best friend to force fuck your own son. Through it all, here I fucking am, Father.”
I tossed my gun aside, out of his way, back through the door.
