Eighty.
Eighty-one.
Eighty-t-two—
Clayton carves into my right cheek with meticulous, slowmovements. I can tell this is definitely not the first time he’s inflicting this type of torture on someone. He’s such an expert on the matter he could write a book. I would be impressed if it wasn’t my skin and muscle that his blade splits like a hot knife going through butter. The fiery imprint it leaves behind locks my jaw as my vision blurs slightly.
I breathe in and out shallowly as I stare blankly at the wall. I screamed the first five times he marked me, but now I have come to welcome the pain in some capacity. At least, it means that I’m still alive. Moreover, it distracts me from the silver chains burning through the skin on my wrists and ankles. I also don’t want to give this bastard the satisfaction of coaxing a reaction out of me. I can tell he gets off on it. The only problem is that when I don’t make a sound, he takes it as a challenge, and every time, the blade sinks deeper and deeper.
Eighty-three.
Eighty-f-four.
I think he just hit the bone. This time, I can’t stop the strangled whimper that tumbles free. His lip twitches in the corner of my eye, so I know he heard it.
Eighty-five.
Eighty-six.
One.
I let out a trembling sigh of relief through my nose when the blade stops its torturous glide through my flesh.
“Would you look at that. An hour has already passed,” Clayton says. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh, little bird?”
It’s only us in the room. The witch left after she drew some more symbols on the walls with my blood and brought in another chair, which she placed in the middle of the bloody circle to my right.
“I have to give it to you, little bird. You’re tougher than you look.” He bends slightly and traces the mark he just carved frommy ear lobe to the corner of my lips with his calloused finger. His touch is rough, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from screaming in pain. “Such a shame Marion needs your heart. Otherwise, I would keep you as my pet. Carve your pretty skin and fuck you whenever I want.”
I pull away from his touch, swallowing the bile that rises in my throat at his repulsive words. My wolf growls in my head loudly. She wants to shred him to pieces for what he’s done to us. “What’s in it for you?” I grit out, not being able to stop my curiosity, and wince at the way the skin on my cheek stretches as I move my lips. “I understand her motive. She wants to be reunited with her love, but why wouldyouhelp her?”
His hands fist at his sides. “Your mate killed my sire, and ever since, I’ve been biding my time to get my revenge. After I kill him, I will take my rightful place as an Alpha of his pack. I’ll take everything from him just like he took everything from me.”
So he was sired by another wolf shifter’s bite. No wonder he is crazy. Or maybe he was already a psychopath before he was bitten—one of those who like to kill animals before escalating to human beings.
I feel the tug of the mating bond.Fuck.Logan is here. I prayed he wouldn’t come after all…that he didn’t care enough about me so he wouldn’t be in danger. Clayton straightens, lifts his nose in the air, and sniffs it. In the next second, a wolfish grin takes over his features, and he leaves the room with hurried steps. There’s a struggle outside before the cabin’s front door opens and closes with a loud thud, two sets of heavy footsteps coming my way.
Logan enters the room with Clayton at his back, who’s keeping him at gunpoint. My heart flutters at seeing Logan before me. He’s naked, so he must have shifted to get here, and even in the state I’m in, the mating bond purrs in my chest like a cat. My eyes flit to Clayton; he has a split lip, and blood trickles from the side of his head. I wish Logan would have done more damage.
“Ava,” Logan’s voice is barely above a whisper, and a ripple of shock passes through his features the moment our gazes collide, and he sees the state I’m in.
He hurries his steps to get to me, but Clayton stops him when he says, “One more step, and I’ll put a silver bullet into your brain. And I’m going to let you in on a little secret: all the bullets are dipped in aconite.”
Logan’s eyes blaze with fury, transforming to burnished gold. A muscle thrums in his jaw as he lets his eyes roam over every inch of my body. When they snap back to mine, they flash with a promise, as if he filed every single injury and will deliver a hundredfold in return. “What did you do to her, you sick fuck?” he growls, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. In the next moment, he spins on his heels and sends one said fist flying in an uppercut that catches Clayton by surprise. Spit and blood dart from his mouth as his head snaps backward, and he loses his balance.
“Enough!” Marion, the witch, screams loudly as she appears in the doorway and extends her hand in front of her. A blast of her power sends Logan flying through the air. His big frame hits the wall behind me with a loud thump and cracks the wood. “I don’t have time for your nonsense.” She takes the gun from Clayton, pointing it at me. “Do as I say, or I’ll shoot your mate. Do you understand?”
Logan pushes up from the floor, rubs the back of his head, and nods, his nostrils flaring.
“Good, now go sit down.” She lifts her chin and points it to the vacant chair at my right.
Logan cuts through the room and plops down on the chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m going to get you out of here,” he tells me.
Marion huffs. “Don’t make her promises you can’t keep.”
She passes the gun to Clayton, who keeps it pointed at myhead. She then takes four thick silver chains from the dusty bookshelf and strides toward Logan, securing his wrists and ankles. His skin sizzles the moment the metal makes contact with it. Logan doesn’t even flinch, though. The only indication that he feels some sort of pain is that of a vein bulging on the side of his forehead and the way his jaw ticks.
“Oh, I’m fully intending to keep my promise,” he tells the witch, his tone low, menacing. “And I can make you one right now, too. You’re both going to pay for this.”
