“Can we get on with it? I have places to be,” the man who entered with Yaretta says in a bored tone.
“Shut up, Rhett. I want to enjoy this!” Yaretta snaps.
Rhett…
“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Eryk says, moving to stand beside Yaretta. “We’re going to break you.” He grins. “Then, when we’ve had our fill, we’re going to drain you of most of your blood because”—he bends down, gripping my hair and pulling my head back—“it turns out, Liminal blood might just be the last ingredient needed to heal the wraiths.” A malicious smile plays along his lips. “And then, I’m going to let Frederick here, finally, eat.”
“He’s going to kill you. You know that, right?” I ask, my lips curling back.
Yaretta laughs. “Who, Ambrose? He’s at Kintoira right now as we speak, enjoying a nice dinner in the dining hall,” she says, full of venom. “No one’s coming to save you, Norissa.”
I close my eyes as the last hope I had bleeds out into the sand. I completely forgot that Yaretta was a perceiver. She can pinpoint a person to their exact location at any given time. Of course Eryk would utilize her. Despair coils around my throat. No one’s coming for me. I’m going to die alone in this hellhole with a group of people who hate me.
For some reason, the idea of dying surrounded by hate instead of love is the most tragic part of this whole ordeal.
“Yep. There it is,” she breathes, her eyes lighting with glee. “The moment she’s accepted defeat.”
“Rhett, will you fetch us the chair?” Eryk asks casually over his shoulder.
Rhett mumbles something under his breath, tosses his hood back, and walks into an empty cell before coming back out with a rusty metal chair. I look from the chair to Rhett’s face. For some reason I’ll probably never understand, I want to memorize the face of each of my captors.
His hair is a dark blond, almost brown, with shrewd light-green eyes. Both ears are pierced, and various tattoos run up his neck. He’s built like someone who takes pride in their appearance. Either that or his career choice is responsible for his physique.
He drops the chair unceremoniously at Eryk’s feet.
“Much appreciated,” Eryk replies dryly.
“Up, bitch. We’re ready to play,” Yaretta says, bouncing on her feet. She doesn’t make a move to put her hands on me, though.
Hmph, not as dumb as she looks after all.
Eryk looks behind me and nods.
Frederick grabs my arms, hoisting me up and roughly deposits me on the metal chair. Rhett walks around him with ropes in each hand and starts wrapping my ankles to the legs of the chair and binding my wrists tightly together.
I pull on the bindings, but they don’t budge.
He knows what he’s doing. He’s done this before.
“This is going to hurt.” The heat of his breath skims my neck. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.” His tone completely changes when he whispers it. It’s no longer bored and compliant, but filled with fury and hate.
I turn as much as the ropes will allow and look at him. So much hostility swims in his eyes that it almost takes my breath away.
Yaretta steps up in front of me, bringing my attention back to her. She lifts two of my fingers and snaps them backward. I lurch forward but refuse to scream. My throat feels thick, and it’s hard to swallow.
Rhett grabs a fistful of my hair and sharply yanks my head back. “You’ll watch as we break you,” he says harshly.
Eryk walks up to me, pulls his fist back, and slams it into my jaw.
My head flies backward, and dots dance in my vision.
Unfortunately, I don’t pass out. I’m coherent much longer than I anticipate or want during the hits, breaks, and cuts.
Chapter thirty-three
Sticky strands of hair caked with dried blood stick to my forehead. I have no idea how long I’ve been in this pit or strapped to this chair. It could be hours or days. I’m delirious from the pain and exhaustion. The moment I feel death beckoning me, it slips through my fingers. I’m eager to greet it past the point of sanity. But before I can slip into the next life, I’m ripped from its clutches and brought back to this hell made of sand and sweat.
They break me repeatedly, but not enough for death to claim me.
