Rocco shot me an assessing look, and I just smiled, all teeth.
“I’ve spent my entire life preparing for this moment, andnow that the title is mine, you’ll find I’m every bit as ruthless as my father was.” I met his eyes. “Moreruthless, because if we don’t get Emberline back untouched, unscathed, and in one piece, I will fucking burn the entire council chamber down, with you inside it.”
“And I’ll lock the doors so none of you fuckers walk away,” Dante added smoothly.
“You backed the wrong side. Now you’re trying to survive, but survival comes at a cost. A costIdetermine. A price you will pay, in blood, if you cross us.”
I didn’t trust Rocco. But if he knew where Ember was, we needed him.
Evidently, my brother came to the same conclusion, dragging a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. “Fine,” he said. “You want to help? Then we need details. Protections, weaknesses—and you can start with the location.”
Nico hadn’t taken his eyes off Rocco, using his Truthteller magic to sort through emotions, tells, and body language to see if he was lying. Finally, he gave me a shallow nod.
Rocco passed the test, and he’d better talk fast because every second we wasted here was another second Emberline suffered at Giovanni’s hands.
Alone.
53
EMBERLINE
Ifigured once his audience left, Bruno would give up.
Cut me down. Take a break.
But the bastard was passionate about his work, and it showed.
Bruno’s cruelty was paced like a metronome. Even. Dependable. I knew when the next lash of pain would happen, how long the next pause would last, and where the following blow would come from. Fucker was predictable, and I didn’t know if that made this better or worse.
Better, I decided. At least I could prepare myself, relax bruised muscles before they absorbed another shock, take a bracing breath before my lungs were crushed by a punch to the gut.
And, for the most part, he was a male of few words.
In the silence between the pain, I figured a few things out.
Clearly, Giovanni had enough wards around this place that Dante couldn’t find me; otherwise, his big, fiery, scary demon would already be here, and Bruno would be nothing but a pile of burning ash. Nico could finally roast those marshmallows he was always talking about.
Sadly, that was not the case.
Which meant I was on my own. Beaten to a pulp in my underwear, which had definitely seen better days.
Another flick of a blade, a long, dramatic pause, Bruno watching me for some sign of weakness.
Not happening, asshole. I’d learned to swallow my screams a long time ago until they burned my throat raw. Pain was something to endure, a fleeting thing in life, not enduring.
And if I had one thing in spades, it was stubbornness.
The room smelled like urine more than blood. I didn’t know how that was possible, given how dry my throat was, and I’d never gotten my glass of water, but here we were. Old Ember would be utterly humiliated.
New Ember hoped Bruno choked on the stench.
My wrists were carved apart where the shackles chewed deeper with every movement, my shoulders screaming from being wrenched upward for too long. Blood slicked my arms, my back, and dripped from my toes. I looked like a Jackson Pollock painting if crimson was his favorite color.
Like an artist, Bruno tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t solve.
“My uncle has high standards,” I choked. “He has a hard time with failures, and so far, my friend, you are definitely failing.”
“He told me you were mouthy.” He paced lazily across the room, his blood-splattered, handmade shoes clicking against the stone like a clock counting down the seconds. “Maybe I’ll drop you down, put that mouth to good use.”
