by JJ King
My silence annoyed Viktor, I could feel it radiating from him in the way he moved, stalking back and forth with his eyes burning into my flesh. I prayed my refusal to play into his games would prompt a quicker death.
I wasn't that lucky.
Fingers drove into my hair and twisted viciously, then yanked me up. I screamed; I couldn't help it. The sound tore from my throat. No matter how hard I tried to hold it back, it came.
Viktor backhanded me, sending me sprawling across the room. My face hit the dirt and rocks hard, knocking my teeth together, sending pain flaring through my head. I gasped for breath and tried again to free my hands and feet from their binds. It was no use, though. Xavier must've been a Boy Scout. His knots were unbreakable. Betrayal twisted my stomach. I turned, lifting my face from the ground, and vomited what little was left in my stomach.
"Tsk, tsk, little wolf. I know you weren't raised properly, but I would think something of the noble blood line that runs through your veins would have come through. Surely, you're stronger than this. Where's the girl who fought her way across campus and never gave up, even when faced with death?" His voice rose in question that sounded sincere.
I gritted my teeth together, determined not to respond to his taunts. What was the point? If I pissed him off, maybe he'd prolong my death, just for fun. Or, I thought bitterly, maybe he'd do that anyway, because, after all this time trying to kill me, he wouldn't want it to be over too quickly.
Fuck it, I thought. If I was going to be tortured anyway, I might as well have my say first.
"You don't deserve to speak of my parents." I spat blood and stomach acid onto the ground, rolling to glare up at him. "You stole into their rooms in the dead of the night and murdered your own family. Don't speak to me of nobility. Nobility is more than brute strength."
His foot connected with my abdomen a second later and I heard a ripping sound from deep inside me. Blood sprayed from my lips as I gasped for breath and tried to decide if my wolf’s healing abilities made me lucky or cursed. I'd heal from the impact; it wouldn't speed up my death. No, it would just hurt like a son of a bitch while he inflicted more torture.
Still, it had felt good to lash out at him with words, with the truth. I doubted anyone ever told him the truth. I looked up at him, at the gleam of madness in his familiar blue eyes and smiled.
"What's wrong, Uncle?" I managed to say through ragged gasps. "Are you so afraid of a little girl like me that you'd keep me tied up and battered instead of facing me like the Alpha you claim to be?"
My words twisted his face into something primal and ugly. Fear skittered down my spine, but I couldn't stop myself anymore. If I couldn't fight back with fists and teeth, if I couldn't avenge my family that way, the least I could do was rip him a new one with my words.
"I bet they all bow down to you," I hissed, trying not to cringe back as he stepped forward, drawing back his leg to kick again.
He froze, holding back the fresh torture and bared his teeth. I took the opportunity.
"Maybe you're okay with that. Maybe that's the kind of Alpha you want to be. But you and I both know that's not what an Alpha is." I spat more blood in his direction. "You don't deserve the title or the power."
Viktor roared and drove his foot into my stomach again. I heard bone break and felt searing agony. My world went blindingly white for a split second then the light was swallowed up and my mind shut down.
♀♀♀
I woke to the sting of a slap that snapped my head back sharply. I blinked in confusion and squinted up at the outline of a man hovering above me.
"What…?" I mumbled, turning my head to look around the unfamiliar room as my head swam with confusion and the insistent sound of anxious whispers. My lips were dry and cracked, so I licked them, and the coppery taste of my own blood on my tongue brought reality flooding back. My stomach cramped with emotion, fear, anger, guilt, and, strangely, relief.
I frowned. Why relief? It made no sense. I didn't want to die, didn't want to face the man who had murdered my family and threatened my life and the lives of my friends for months now.
"Welcome back, little wolf." Viktor stepped away from the glaring light aimed directly at my face so that I could see him clearly. His lips lifted in a mockery of a smile as he looked down at me. "I thought we'd have some fun before…" He chuckled. "Well, before I kill you, to be frank." Viktor leaned over me. "You wouldn't want me to pretend, would you?"
I took a deep breath, drawing in the scent of him and wishing I was free to hunt him down like the prey I wanted him to be. Slowly, I shook my head. "No," I said through gritted teeth. It would be worse if he pretended I had a chance.
I tested my binds and found them still there and, possibly, even tighter than before. My skin was rubbed raw at each site, coating the ropes in blood that dried then was refreshed as I struggled and bled anew.
Sickened by the sight and scent of him, I turned my head away and caught sight of a window where there'd been none before. I scanned what I can see of the room and realized I wasn't in the basement anymore.
I was above ground and lying on something hard and wide. A table, maybe. I narrowed my eyes to avoid the blinding light still aimed directly at me and twisted my head to look at the other side of the room.
The gleaming metallic surfaces and cold air were that of an industrial kitchen, something like a restaurant would have. I eyed the block of knives sitting on a nearby counter and knew they'd be sharp. At least they wouldn't be silver.
The thought of silver drew my gaze back to Viktor, who'd moved away and had his back to me. He and his mercenaries had used silver bullets during the attack on campus in the fall, so I knew he wasn’t averse to using the poison against his own kind. Hell, he'd proven he had no qualms about killing, period.
Katherine had been tortured once, I remembered. She'd mentioned it but hadn't gone into gruesome detail other than to say that she understood the pain I'd experienced when one of Viktor's silver bullets had torn through my thigh. I hadn't asked. Even though we were friends now, I figured torture reminiscing could be saved for a later date. We’d never have the chance to commiserate now.
"You know," Viktor said, turning back to me was something in his hands that I couldn't see. "As much as I want to rip your throat out and watch you bleed out right here, right now, there's something I want more." He opened his fingers and held up a clear glass vial of powder. "Do you know what this is?"
My gaze centered on the vial and the grey dust filling it. Sweat beaded on my skin as I understood that I'd been wrong once more. "Silver dust," I whispered in horror. Panic chased away all reason and I fought against the ropes, twisting, and screaming, until the scent of blood filled the air and my voice broke.
Viktor watched me, his blue eyes gleaming in delight. He wanted me screaming and begging, he wanted to watch me bleed and die, and I had no power to deny him what he wanted.
When my voice went hoarse, he put the vial down and pulled on a pair of gloves, to protect his own skin from the silver, I realized. There would be pain now, endless, mindless pain.
"What do you want?" The questions scraped from my raw throat. "Why are you doing this?" I knew that he wanted me dead because of my birthright and the threat I posed, however small. But I had no idea what else he wanted out of this. Whatever it was, I just want to know.
He snapped one of the gloves at his wrist and grinned. "Why am I doing this," he mused aloud. "Well, little wolf, you see, your death isn't the end of this for me. You should've died with your family all those years ago, but you were secreted away by a maid, or so I'm told. And do you know who it was that told me this little fact?" He lifted his eyebrows and looked at me, waiting for an answer I didn't have.
I shook my head, just trying to keep him preoccupied so the pain wouldn't come as soon.
He stared down at me, then reached out a gloved hand and smoothed the hair away from my forehead. "You're so beautiful. I suppose you know that, though. Beautiful women always know." He coiled my hair a
round his finger and gave it a gentle tug. "You have your mother's hair and delicate features and your father's eyes, my eyes," he added with a smile. "It's unnerving, seeing them looking back at me." His smile disappeared. "That's why they'll be the first to go."
His forearm descended and trapped my head in place. My eyes went wide in terror as he flipped the top off the vial with his other hand and moved closer to my face. Sick understanding flooded me as his words sunk in and I screamed again, squeezing my eyes shut.
It didn't help. His hands, so strong, held me down as I bucked and struggled to break free. He didn't stop to lift my eyelids, there was no point.
Silver dust fell onto the thin skin protecting my eyes, instantly engulfing me in indescribable pain. I screamed and begged the Old Ones for death.
Chapter 23
I didn’t lose consciousness.
If I could have prayed, I would have. I would've begged the Old Ones to let me fall into the blissful abandon of unconsciousness. Instead, the silver dust burned through my eyelids and attacked my sight, destroying it in a single, careless moment.
Silent screams shredded my throat as I writhed in agony, struggling against the ropes to free my hand so I could… I had no idea what I could do to stop the pain, but I had to do something. It pushed me, beyond sanity, to the very brink of breaking. I didn't know how I managed to stay on that ledge and not leap, maybe there was a serenity there, beyond the breaking point. Something kept me there, though, poised on the precipice as the whispers turned to screams that buffeted my mind and soul.
They seemed to want something from me, but it was impossible to know what. It was impossible to know anything but red-hot searing pain.
Something speared into my hair, pulling me forward to the end of the table. I wrenched oxygen into my lungs, able only to sustain the barest minimum of consciousness. Then, the oxygen was gone, and my head was submerged beneath icy cold water that sucked into my mouth and down my throat, drowning me.
The burning in my eyes dulled beneath the water surface, releasing me for a moment from that exquisite agony while my broken ribs screamed. I would drown instead, I thought, and admitted to myself that it would be better. But, as soon as the thought entered my head, I was being pulled free of the icy water and thrown back onto the table. Something hard struck me in the middle of the back, and I coughed up the water I'd swallowed, then laid there gasping for breath.
The light that had blinded me earlier still pointed in my direction, I could feel its heat, but I couldn't see its light. Tears, bitter and futile, streamed down my cheeks. I didn't know how I could cry when my eyes were so destroyed.
I felt Viktor move closer to me and cringed away.
"There," he murmured, stroking my face through his gloves. "That's better. Now we can talk." He disappeared for a moment and I heard the scraping of a metal chair against the floor. He sat heavily and leaned in again. When he spoke, he sounded as if he were having a polite conversation with an acquaintance. "Tell me about The Sisterhood."
My heart stuttered. I hadn't considered that his "talk" would involve those I loved. True, he hadn't asked me about my family or my friends, or even Bash, but The Sisterhood, however much I'd resented them when I'd discovered their role in the deception of my life, they were my sisters. Katherine, Sylvie, Daphne, Rose, and all the other amazing women I'd met were important and vital. I didn't know why he cared about them, about hurting them. I assumed he wanted to hurt them, anyway. He destroyed everything he touched.
I opened my mouth and tried to speak, but only a croak came out.
Viktor made an aggravated sound. "Can't answer questions if you can't speak," he muttered. "Never mind," he patted my arm encouragingly. "We'll just have to go with yes and no questions for the moment until that pesky throat heals up."
I shuddered out a gasping breath.
"Did you know, little wolf, that you had an aunt?" Viktor asked. "Well, technically, you still have an aunt, she's just rather indisposed at the moment." He tapped his fingers against the table. "You see, I thought I could trust her, but it turns out she's been a member of this silly sisterhood of yours all along. It also turns out she knew of your existence." He made a tsk tsk sound. "It was unpleasant, punishing her, but very necessary. Even though she denied knowing anything, she actually knew quite a bit and all it took was a bit of coaxing to get it out of her." He leaned close enough so that I felt his breath hot on my face. "I wonder how long it'll take me to pry every drop of information from you. It took my sweet Irena two days to divulge all she knew."
My stomach heaved again but there was nothing in it to expel so I just spasmed while he watched.
"Alright, then," he began, and I knew it was time. "Let's start with something simple, shall we? Are you a member of The Sisterhood?"
Some small stubborn and spiteful part of me wanted to shake my head no, but I refused to listen to it. He obviously knew I was a sister. If I lied, I'd be punished, tortured again and again. The longer I could hold off from that pain that threatened my sanity…
I wasn’t sure how to finish that thought. Maybe it was better to push him fast and hard. Maybe I’d save myself unnecessary agony. Or, maybe he’d keep me alive for days and amuse himself either way. He’d just admitted to torturing his own wife for two days, after all.
I nodded and tried to say the word yes, but all that escaped my throat was a wheeze.
He patted my arm. "Good girl. Now, something a little harder. Do you personally know Sylvie LaFlamme and her daughter, Katherine?"
Tears poured from my ruined eyes as I nodded again.
"Good. Now, tell me, do they trust you?"
I froze in place. He'd admitted to hating The Sisterhood, to wanting revenge, and wanted to know if two high-ranking members trusted me. Through the pain, my mind cycled through everything he'd said and came to one conclusion.
He wanted to use me to get to them.
Steel stiffened my spine. There was no way in hell that I would betray The Sisterhood. Sylvie and Katherine were like family to me now. I'd endure endless torture and still refuse to help Viktor harm one hair on their heads. I clenched my jaw and refused to answer.
"So, we've come to an impasse. Our first. Let's celebrate, shall we."
I knew what would come and braced for it, but when the silver dust sprinkled like deadly snowflakes on my already exposed eyes, my body arched into the air, and I heard the snap of bone.
I existed only in my head. The voices wailed as the silver burned my eyes, destroying the proof of our familial resemblance. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't remain on that precipice any longer. Without a second thought, I leaped and let the whispers drag me under.
It was better beneath the surface. The pain still existed, but I was separate from it somehow, like an astral projection floating just outside the body, looking down at it as it died.
Viktor let me burn then dragged me to the water and pushed my head beneath the surface again and again, washing the silver from my eyes. With each dunk, the whispers calmed and wavered, then voices, single voices began to ring through, clearer and urgent.
Confused desperation flooded me as Viktor dragged me back up onto the table. There'd been something there, in the water, in the darkness that brought salvation. I tried to think, tried to remember, but it just kept slipping away.
My hair splayed across my face, soaking wet, reminding me of something, a shadow in a dream. Then a voice, so familiar it hurt, called my name and I strained to listen.
"You'll have no eyeballs left, soon," Viktor said with a snarl. "Then what will I move onto? We'll need your throat in working order soon enough, so I suppose…" He trailed his finger down my body but I barely noticed. In the darkness it was quiet and I could think.
He bombarded me with questions, one after the other, barely taking a breath in between. I stayed silent and still beneath the force of his fists and palms, beneath the sting of his nails and knives. And when silver sprinkled over my forehead, I focused
on only one thing, touching the water.
I was prepared this time when he pushed my head into the icy liquid. The voice that had pushed forward, refusing to be ignored, spoke to me as clearly as if she were right next to me.
Open yourself and see.
I opened to the water, connecting with the element with every ounce of strength left in me, and it responded. Time seemed to slow. Viktor's hand, pushing me further into the water, moved in slow motion, giving me time.
An image formed in my mind, foggy at first, then clearer with each passing moment. Hope leaped in my soul, eclipsing the pain of my body, as I watched myself stand before my oppressor, battered, bloody, yet no longer blind. In the image, Viktor was staggering under the weight of my power. In the image, I was free from these ropes and fighting back.
And I was winning.
Chapter 24
Time lost all meaning.
I drifted in and out of consciousness, each time lifted by Viktor so that he could ask more questions and punish when I refused to answer.
My body burned all over, his silver dust did its job and did it well. From the darkness where I floated, free from the brunt of the agony he caused gleefully, I wondered how long my physical being could remain alive after such torment.
It was strange, this disassociation, but I was aware enough to be thankful for it. In my psychology classes, we'd discussed trauma dissociation. When fight or flight wasn't an option, freeze took over. That's where I was now, frozen in my mind, in a sort of holding pattern where the hope birthed by my vision could survive the endless pain of Viktor's torture.
I noticed small things, like the way Viktor muttered to himself when he was frustrated and the way he favored his left hand. I couldn't see him as he used his fists to batter me, but I could feel the strength of his right hand as it held me down.
The sun set, stealing the small warmth that had filtered through the window. At one point, seething at my stubbornness, Viktor had knocked the spotlight over, so that I lay now, shivering and alone, in the darkness.
