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Picking up a chipped stone, he flicked it into the shadows. Part of him wanted to check on her, but Cain had made such a fuss about the witch he figured it was best to leave it alone. He had enough problems of his own to worry about anyway.
Dane had told the bishop about the bruising on her legs and made it clear that he didn’t approve of her living conditions. That was more than anyone else had done for her.
While The Council viewed the witch’s undefined sentence as merciful because it permitted her to live, it was a ruthless condemnation with no end in sight. He wouldn’t be surprised if she eventually became a bondslave—one more layer of cruelty they’d twist and call lenient. But there was no clemency here. Immortals served themselves above all else, and that witch had tried to kill the son of an elder. There was no saving her.
Anger rolled through him in a slow boiling rage as Juniper and many others—including himself—helplessly suffered the hypocrisy of such a pious order. There was no greater power on the farm than that of The Council, and as long as they could wrap their logic up in a biblical bow, they felt justified to discipline lesser sinners as they saw fit.
He shamefully took comfort in knowing he wasn’t the only victim of their unfair laws . There were a few other ostracized half-breeds on the farm that would never fully fit in.
The women also faced challenges. The discrepancies between males and females here were disgraceful, but the females had been oppressed and sheltered for so long, indoctrinated to fear the outside world, that they actually felt safe and protected by such heavy-handed control. If only they knew the freedoms they could have elsewhere. But no one had it as bad as the witch.
His gaze, once again, returned to the end of the hall. She was quiet, due to her bondage, but he knew she was awake. The shadow of her frame fell past the bars of her cell and stretched toward the torch on the wall.
Could she see him? Was she still blindfolded? He couldn’t see her from his angle but sensed she had a better view. Whether she was able to see him or not, he sensed her attention on him.
Acidic emotions soured his stomach. Indigestion had become a familiar and expected part of his day. Like clockwork, he never made it past sunset without suffering the burn of resentment, the sting of loneliness, and the scorching frustration of his powerless position.
There was no cure for that kind of burn. It would only relent if he left this place, but even then, regret would sizzle inside of him.
There was no leaving. He was here. His sister was here. His enemy was here. Gracie was here.
“Pray,” Adam had advised him when he once told him about the anxiety keeping him up at night.
Dane scoffed. Their god was not any god he wanted help from. If their god was purely a good god, his sister would not be deranged and in a cell. His mother would not have been ripped to shreds by a vampire and slaughtered right before his eyes.
Breathing deeply, he let his rage settle, deliberately trying to recalibrate his line of thinking so he didn’t spiral into a tailspin and burn a stress-hole through his stomach. If not for his minor immortal healing, he’d probably have a belly full of ulcers by now.
Shutting his eyes, he tipped his head back against the stone wall and continued to breathe, intentionally filling his lungs and letting the air out slowly. He was safe. Cybil was safe.
Gracie was safe. The children were safe. Larissa was safe. He did not dare to think about Jonas, the male who had disrupted their world and led them here. He kept his mind only on those he loved.
Ezekiel and Faith. Annalise and Adam. Cain and Destiny. Adriel—and even her shithead son, Christian. They were all safe.
His mind strayed to Christian’s tattooed mate and he snickered. “Good luck working that out,” he muttered, pulverizing a piece of gravel into dust as he pinched it between his fingers.
He hoped Delilah made Christian’s life a living hell, at least for a little while. Eventually, she’d accept this place as her home, just like they all did, even when everything inside screamed they didn’t belong here.
When Dane had been told of his lineage, Christian had been present. It was a surprise to both of them. But Dane would never forget the look of disdain in the eyes of his self-righteous half-brother.
“Prick.” He picked up another broken piece of stone and tossed it into a pile of gravel.
They were not brothers and they never would be. Christian was a dick, and he deserved everything his almighty god had sent him.
