My fingers brush over the sand-caked wall as I shuffle toward the corner. A sliver of some kind of sharp rock scratches against my palm. Small but piercing. As discreetly as possible, I curl my fingers around it and gently pull it from its resting place. It pops out easily, thankfully falling into my upturned palm. I keep it behind my back, running my fingers over the rough edges.
Eryk lifts the hem of his slightly too-large robe out of the sand before stepping into the confines of my prison. His wide nose crinkles in disgust as he looks around. “Pity, I might be doing you a favor by removing you from this filthy cell,” he mutters, looking around where I’ve been held. Eryk isn’t a big man by any means, slightly on the short side and lanky, but I know the mistake in underestimating someone. I need to aim for the eyes, throat, or the weak spot between his legs.
He holds his hand out to me like I’m a rabid dog he’s trying to earn the trust of.
I run my tongue over my teeth. This man is stupider than I thought.
“If you think I’m grabbing your hand on my own free will, you’re out of your mind,” I say, snorting under my breath.
He sighs and steps farther into the cell. “Very well, we’ll do this your way then.” He looks over his shoulder. “Frederick, would you mind coming in here?”
Fuck.
I’m out of time. I should have known he wouldn’t do the grunt work himself. That was a slight mistake on my part.
He doesn’t even notice the shift in my weight as I make my move.
I jump up, lunge forward, the rock firmly gripped in my hand as I aim for his throat. He moves quicker than I anticipate, and my movements are clumsy and miscalculated. The rock slices across the edge of his cheek in a jagged, shallow cut. He hisses and grabs at his face with his right hand, his eyes going wide before he uses the other hand to backhand me hard enough that I fall to my knees.
The drugs linger in my system, causing my reflexes to be delayed. A sharp sting radiates across my face, but I can’t focus on it before I’m roughly pulled to my feet again. The smell hits me first, and then the realization that my sleeves feel wet.
I look down, and decomposing flesh, moist with rot, holds each of my arms in its surprisingly firm grip. My back is flush with the tattered robes of what was once a Veil.
“That was unwise,” Eryk says, walking closer to me.
His beady eyes run up and down my body. It feels as if the torture has already begun. I need to find a safe place in my mind and go there. Lock myself away and disassociate. There’s nothing I can do to protect my body, but I can try to protect my mind. At least until it’s over and I slip into the next life. Because I have no doubt that their nefarious plans do not include me leaving this pit in one piece.
He trails a finger over the welt that I know iS already forming from his hit, and licks the top of his thin lip. This sick bastard is getting off on my pain.
I lift my chin higher.
Fuck him.
“Are we going to stand here and look at her all day, or cut her open and drain her?” Yaretta asks, hatred seeping into each syllable that passes through her callous lips.
Eryk tsks in her direction. “Patience is key, Yaretta. I’ve waited so long for this,” he coos, running his hand along my jaw. “Don’t rush me.”
She arches a thin brow, heavy with makeup, but remains silent.
Adrenaline runs rampant through my veins. Everything is heightened. Except time. That has slowed down to an insufferable rate. I can hear the erratic thuds of my heartbeat in my ears. But I’m not scared.
I’m angry.
I’m also surprised.
I thought I’d be frantic, doing anything and everything in my power to stay alive. But I’m not. I’m resolute in the acceptance of it. Calm even. Unwavering. But very, very angry. This wasn’t the way I was supposed to go. Inconsequential in the big scheme of things. Simply being murdered for who I am. Something completely out of my control.
Eryk turns suddenly on his heel and exits the cell. I’m shoved roughly from behind, the wraith no longer holding me. The only saving grace in this nightmare at the moment. He gestures with his hands, and I’m pushed unceremoniously into the sand. I land on my knees, hard, and catch myself with my hands.
A devious laugh comes from above me as Yaretta looks down, her brunette hair perfectly styled, and makeup expertly applied. She looks as if she is attending a nice dinner, not my execution.
Bending down to my level, she pins me beneath her cold stare. “Beg.”
I spit at her feet.
She stands and kicks sand right in my face. The granules stick to my damp skin. I use my sleeve to wipe it from my eyes and mouth as best as I can.
I’m going to kill this bitch.
