Broken (The Captive #5.5)(46)

There was no escape for her though, not anymore. She kicked wildly out and caught the door with her foot; it banged closed with enough force to shake the walls. "Genny!" Camille screamed as she began to beat frantically on the door. "Genny!"

She had no words for her though as Felix, still holding her by her throat, lifted her up and smashed her face first into the door. Blood spilled free of her crushed nose, she fought against the blackness trying to take her over. Genny's fingers scrabbled over the door, not for the knob, but for the bolt as Felix's other hand twisted cruelly into her hair. Camille continued to scream from the other side. Her sister beat and kicked at the door, but Genny knew no one would come to help them. No one interfered in another vampire's business, no one intruded upon their homes, no matter what happened, or what they heard, everyone kept to their own.

Felix pressed her face against the door so hard that grains of wood bit into her flesh. "Did you think I wouldn't realize you were playing me for the fool?" he spat in her ear. "That you were laughing at me behind my back? I can assure you that I'll be the one doing the laughing now. That bitch mother of yours was right about one thing, you are a sneaky girl, and sneaky girls get punished."

The realization that Marie had been the one to turn him on to their possible stash in the woods should have been heartbreaking. Instead, she found herself strangely accepting of the fact that her mother would most likely be the cause of her death. It somehow seemed oddly fitting after all of these years.

Her fingers finally succeeded in finding the metal bolt and sliding it into place. Satisfaction slid through her, she may not be making it out of here, but Camille wouldn't be able to get back in either. "Run Camille!" she shouted as he pulled her head away from the door by her hair.

She flung her arm back in an attempt to knock him away but she only succeeded in connecting with air. He grabbed hold of the arm trying to hit him and wrenched it behind her back. The loud pop of her shoulder being pulled out of its socket echoed through the room before he drove her face into the door again with enough force to fracture her cheekbone.

"You think I won't find her?" he barked. "She's going to be my replacement for your whore of a mother once I'm done with you."

White stars burst in front of her eyes. She dimly realized that Camille had stopped pounding against the door when Felix lifted her up and flung her across the room. Bouncing off of the back wall, she sprawled in a heap upon the floor. Her head pounded, the floor lurched beneath her but she knew she couldn't stay down.

She staggered awkwardly to her feet; her hand fell against the chair as she tried to steady herself. Wrapping her hand around the arm of the chair, she lifted it up and held it before her. This was going to be a fight to the death and she planned on fighting with every ounce of strength she had left.

***

Atticus rose from his chair and walked over to the open door. The onset of night hadn't brought forth a cool breeze to break the oppressive heat like he'd hoped. "I think we should go to the club again," Merle said from behind him. "It's probably unbearably hot in there but at least there is blood and women."

"You can find that from the servants here," Atticus muttered.

He studied the horizon as the first star pierced the black sky. The dream from last night continued to haunt him. The only thing he wanted less than to go back to sleep was to be in that club again with the constant reminder that nothing satisfied him, that he was as empty as the vast sky above him. He drank down the rest of the wine in his goblet and thrust it at a passing servant. He shook off a refill though; there was no need anymore. Alcohol only dulled what was inside of him and no matter how much he consumed he remained oddly sober.

"I've grown tired of the servants here," Merle replied dismissively.

"Hmm," Atticus said in way of a response.

"You fed?"

"I did," Atticus replied absently as he uncrossed and then re-crossed his legs. His arms were folded over his chest, his fingers clenched on his arms. He searched for something out there that he couldn't see; some threat he could feel rolling toward him but couldn't quite pinpoint.

"That's progress. I say we make some more for you tonight."

Atticus stopped listening to his cousin, his ears turned toward the night, his nostrils flared as he scented for something he couldn't quite define. Merle was still talking when Atticus stepped out of the doorway and strode purposely across the open field toward the woods. He was certain there was something menacing out there but he felt oddly compelled to seek out whatever it might be.

"Atticus?"

Merle's voice drifted to him from the manor but he kept going. Halfway across the field he broke into a loping run toward the forest. He had no idea where he was going, only that he had to be there, only that the danger had to be located and eradicated. The driving urge pushed him into the tree line and rapidly over the ground.

He was a mile into the woods when he spotted Camille running toward him amongst the trees. She moved far faster than he would have thought possible for someone so young. She flung herself at him when they met; her hands encircled his forearms in an iron tight grasp. Her pupils were dilated to nearly the size of her irises with panic.

Her legs buckled beneath her, she fell to the forest floor as her words tumbled out in a rush. "You have to help her!" Tears poured down her cheeks. He didn't have to ask who her was, he knew exactly who it was that was being threatened. Who it was that had been drawing him irresistibly forward. "There's no one else, please. He's going to kill her! Please help her."