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“Cyrus says so.”
“Because?” the girl asked.
Byron looked at her. “That’s all the reason I need. It’s all the reason you should need, you hear me? Hold her ankles so she doesn’t move.”
The girl nodded then, her expression growing wary. Cold fingers gripped Olivia’s ankles and tugged, forcing her leg straight and making her scream.
The girl smiled. “She’s so fragile.”
Byron grunted, focusing on his work.
Olivia felt the pierce of the needle and swallowed back another cry. She couldn’t escape the pain; it was all there was. Poke, the tug of thread, another poke, more thread. Over and over.
By the time Byron stopped, she was a shaking, sweaty, bloody mess. When he tugged the zipper of her hoodie down, she barely reacted. But his inspection was quick and callous. He had no interest in her, unlike the girl peering over his shoulder.
“Not so fragile,” the giant said. “She has scars.” He pointed as he spoke, yanking her jacket zipper down and rolling her to her side. The rope chafed her wrists, pulling skin.
She bit back a groan, catching sight of the man in the cage next to her. He leaned against the wall, no care in the world. But his eyes were hard, staring at her with something hot and angry.
“No other injuries,” Byron said.
“She won’t die?” the girl asked.
Byron stood, dropping her hoodie back on top of her. “Guess we’ll see. If he keeps her around.”
He flipped her over, the ropes popping her back into place—bouncing her leg in the process. Olivia gagged, the food she’d eaten what seemed like a lifetime ago lodging in her throat. They untied her quickly, leaving her where she was and slamming her cell door behind them as they left.
She lay there gasping, the vague sounds of a struggle further disorienting her.
She turned onto her side, groaned, and threw up all over the stone floor. Rolling onto her back took the last energy she had. Her eyes drifted shut, offering a kind of relief. Maybe, just maybe, she’d wake up and this would all be the worst nightmare she’d ever had.
Chapter Two
Mal rolled his shoulder, the socket still tender. While he’d been watching everything in the goddamn woman’s cage, Numb Nuts had come into his, shoving the broken blade back into his shoulder—and dislocating his arm for good measure. He was going to kill the motherfucker slowly and enjoy it. His arm was back in, but he didn’t have the strength to dig the blade back out. And he was going to have to dig deep for the strength because of all the fucking silver.
He slid down the wall and sat staring at the woman—his wolf’s rage and frustration at an all-time high.
She’d been strong, stronger than he’d expected her to be. That was a quality he could respect. His wolf, however, wanted to hunt down the Big One and rip him to shreds. The Big One had a name now. Byron. Byron the fucking butcher. Mal’s almost visceral reaction when the ass-hat had tugged the woman’s jacket free had shaken him, deeply. For a second he believed he could break his chain, silver or not, if Byron laid a hand on her. His wolf wasn’t about to let that happen again.
He tried to relax, to prepare for what he needed to do. But as soon as he closed his eyes, the lights came on.
The girl came down, nervous, opening the woman’s cage and grabbing the untouched tray. Mal had been slowly working on her, using every opportunity he got to charm her into sharing little bits of information with him. She liked him, his wolf knew that—enough to sneak him something special to eat now and then.
“Anything left?” He kept his voice soft.
She looked at him, her cheeks flushing. “I’m not supposed to.”
He grinned. “It’s okay.” He stood, then moved to the cage, his hands resting on the bars, palms up. If he could get the tray close enough, he could get the metal fork. If he could get the fork, he could try to free the lock on the collar. And if he could open the damn collar…
He sighed, forcing himself to relax. “How’s your day?”
She stepped closer, holding out the tray. “You’ve seen it.” She nodded at the woman on the floor. “All this fuss over a human woman. And her brother.”
“Why?” Not that it was any of his business, but he—his wolf—wanted to know.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Cyrus left hours ago,” she whispered. “You’ll be left alone for a while.” She frowned, glancing at the stairs.
Cyrus was gone? That would make things easier. “Or the other three will make sure I’m not around when Cyrus gets back.”
