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He hums again. “That can’t possibly be true. Young witches need guidance. There is no chance of you expanding your powers if you don’t have someone to show you how to do it.”
An image of Cohen flashes through my head. He taught himself and now he’s more powerful than even the heirs. Of course, someone who is dedicated can teach themselves what they need to know. Cohen did, so why wouldn’t I be able to?
“Everything I’ve learned has been through my own hard work and dedication.” Truth.
His lips thin out. He runs an angry hand down his face. “We aren’t getting anywhere right now. I’m going to leave you here to think about what you want to share. What truths you want to give. If you tell us who you’re working with, maybe we’ll let you go. Maybe we’ll let your boyfriend go, too.”
My gaze shoots up to his. “What are you doing to him? Where is he?”
His hand smacks my cheek again. “You forget, I ask the questions here, little witch. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll let you see him.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have anything else to tell you. You gave me a truth potion. You know what I’m saying is the truth. It’s not my fault you don’t like what you hear. Please, just let us go.”
He shakes his head. “You’re going to die here, little witch.” He strides to the door and slams it closed behind him. Something I said pissed him off, or maybe he’s just angry that I’m not being more pliable.
Either is likely.
Holy penguins, every inch of my body hurts. Every goddamn inch. Even the arches of my feet, and my little pinky toes. Did they stomp on my feet or something while I was out? Is that what happened? Because now the ache in my toes is growing. It’s all I can focus on, even more so than the pain in my head.
I push the pain in my body to the side and try to focus instead on the getting out of this damn chair. They secured my arms palm down on the arms of the chair, and the leather is so tight that there is hardly any give. Still, the leather is a soft material compared to metal, so there is some wiggle room. And the more I wiggle, the more give there is. Not a lot, not enough, and before too long, the rough underside of the cuffs has rubbed my skin raw. I grit my teeth through the pain, ignoring the blood that wells up, focusing on how it lubricates the cuff rather than on how much I’m losing.
After what feels like forever, I’m able to turn my wrist slightly, enough so that I can bend my fingers toward the latch, but I can tell it’s not going to work. The only thing I’m going to be able to do is continue to loosen the leather more, hopefully enough to slip my hand free.
A sob works its way out of my chest. More want to follow it, but I force them down, just like I force away the panic attack that is lingering on the edges of my periphery. It’s only a matter of time before it overwhelms me, but I will keep it at bay for as long as I can.
Focus on what you can do, Rosalind Juliet.
I keep working the cuff, trying to loosen it bit by bit, but I know there is no way I’ll get it loose enough before Mr. Gibbs comes back.
I know it.
It’s fruitless, but damn if I’ll give up. I will not stop until he comes back in here and puts a damn bullet in my head.
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” I blink at the sound of the voice, far closer than someone should be. I didn’t hear the door open and slam closed like it has when someone entered before. There shouldn’t be anyone in this room, unless, of course, they’ve always been there. If that’s the case, then why the hell did they stay silent until now?
Have they just been watching while I rubbed my skin raw on this damn cuff? My cheek flair in embarrassment, because I probably look like some kind of rabid beast jerking my arm back and forth against the leather, but I refuse to be cowed by whoever it is.
“I have to say, I’m a little offended you don’t recognize my voice, Rosalind.” There comes the shuffling of feet over cement, the sound of someone approaching.
Cohen’s face pops up in front of me, a small smirk on his lips. “Hey there, wild card.”
Chapter 12
Cohen’s eyes darken as he takes in my battered state. “I’m going to kill every last one of them. I swear to god, Ro.”
Fear and panic grip me. He can’t be here.He can’t be here.They’ll hurt him too. They’ll steal his power and tie him down andhurt him.
“They’ll try, baby, but they won’t get the chance.” His fingers are already working on the leather straps, while I blink at him. I must have said all that out loud. How in the hell did I do that without realizing it?
Cohen’s eyes flick up to mine. “Did they give you something, Ro? Did they make you drink something?”
I nod. “Yes. They said it would help me tell the truth.”
His lips tighten as he gets the first strap undone. He growls when he sees the bloody welts on my wrist. “I think they gave you a potion that makes you say whatever you’re thinking, without realizing it.”
What? No. No, that’s not good. What did I tell them while I was thinking to myself? What am I saying to Cohen right now?
He chuckles and I want to punch him for laughing at a time like this. There’s nothing funny about it.
