Page 4 of Tempest’s Torment

I can't breathe. The pain isn't just hot; it's deep as it burrows beneath my skin, refusing to fade even after he finally lifts the cigarette away. I curl my fingers into fists so tightly my nails bite into my palms, desperate for something else to focus on.

Evan studies the angry red circle forming on my arm before taking another drag from his cigarette. "You see?" he says, looking at Lucy instead of me. "This is what happens when she won't listen."

Lucy is crying and shaking so hard her chair rattles against the floor. "It wasn't her," she sobs. "It was me. I left you. Me."

He smiles. "I know what you think," he says softly. Then he looks at me again. "And that's the problem."

I wake with a groan lodged in my throat. God, everything hurts—my wrists, my ribs, my arm where the cigarette burned through my skin, even breathing hurts.

I don't know how long I've been here anymore—hours, maybe days. Time stopped meaning anything after the first burn. Sleep doesn't last long; every time exhaustion drags me under, Evan finds a new way to wake me.

Sometimes it's ice-cold water, sometimes it's the sting of a fresh cut as the tip of his knife slices across my skin, or sometimes it's Lucy screaming my name.

He never stays with one of us for long, he hurts me until Lucy begs him to stop, and then he turns to her. Round and round we go, blaming me all the while and telling Lucy she'd still love him if I hadn't poisoned her against him. He doesn't see what he did to her, he only sees me.

I swallow every scream I can, but it's never enough. Lucy looks at me over his shoulders, her eyes telling me not to react. I try, I really do, but God, it hurts so bad and the alternative is watching her be hurt.

Evan pushes himself to his feet. He looks exhausted, dark circles shadowing his eyes, but they don't make him look human. If anything, they make him look worse. He rubs a hand over his face, grabs his cigarettes from the table, and heads for the door. "I'll be back."

The lock clicks behind him, and Lucy twists toward me so fast the legs of her chair scrape across the wooden floor. "Your right wrist," she whispers. "The knot. I've been watching it; it's been slipping every time you move."

I start working it immediately. "He's going to come back," I breathe.

"I know. Don't stop."

"Lucy, if we run⁠—"

"When we run." She holds my eyes. "I go first; I draw him toward the road. You go into the trees and you don't stop."

I shake my head. Absolutely not. "No."

"Lilah—"

Tears form in my eyes. No, hell no. "We go together or we don't go."

She gives me a look that is pure older-sister, despite the fact that we're the same age. "I'm faster than you and you know it."

"You're three minutes older, not superhuman."

The knot slips and my right hand comes loose. I reach across and start on hers. "We go together," I say again.

Her eyes go soft. Just for a second. "Okay, together."

I'm almost through the second knot when the door opens and Evan’s standing in the doorway. He doesn't say anything at first, just looks at my free wrist and then at Lucy's half-undone restraint. "How long?" he says finally.

"It was me," Lucy says immediately. "I worked it loose, she didn't know."

"Lucy—" I start.

"Don't." She looks at me hard. Then back to Evan. "It was me. I found a rough edge on the chair. She told me to stop."

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. "You never listen," he says.

"Evan." Lucy's voice shifts, fear and pain lacing her words. "Evan, please. Let her go. Whatever you want from me, I'll give it to you, but let her go. She has nothing to do with us."

He takes a step closer to us. "She has everything to do with us."

"She doesn't, she's my sister." Lucy leans forward, as far as her restraints allow. "Look at me, please. I'm right here, talk to me."