Scarred(Never After #2)(89)
She nods. “But then the scarred prince had to ruin it. Stealing him away and doing God knows what to him.”
My chest cramps. Tristan was there?
“And then it was back to watching. And waiting.” She sighs, and Michael’s hand strokes up and down her arm. “But last night, I saw him storm into your room. Heard you both doing treasonous things.”
Rage circles through me, that she was there, tarnishing our precious moments.
“It was so easy to press my head against your door and listen to the words you spoke.” She smiles. “You really have yourself to thank.”
Stupid. I’m so stupid.
Michael claps his hands together in glee, a smile stretching across his face from ear to ear. “Speaking of my brother, shall we go pay him a visit? I’m sure he’s desperate to make sure you’re okay.”
CHAPTER 50
Tristan
Searing pain spreads from my shoulders and extends through my entire body, the type of which I’ve never felt before. My arms are tied behind my back and slung over a wood beam that’s been placed in the middle of the courtyard. Occasionally, a guard walks over and pulls, forcing my body to rise off the ground by mere inches.
But I won’t give them the satisfaction of screaming.
I was woken in the rudest way. With a cloth full of chloroform and half a dozen guards.
And now they’ve taken to strappado. A form of torture that’s Edward’s personal favorite. It gives him a thrill to watch the agony spread across his victim’s faces as their shoulders become dislocated and their limbs slowly tear from their bodies. Part of me wonders if this is his doing. If he’s finally betrayed me and is seeking his revenge for the just punishment he reaped at my hands.
But he’s nowhere to be found.
It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except for the fear that courses through my insides at the thought of Michael having Sara.
They can kill me. They can torture me for hours and I’ll sacrifice myself gladly, so long as I know she’s safe.
I’m not sure how long has passed, only that the sun has set, the full moon casting an eerie glow, the chilly nighttime air sticking to my clammy, bruised up skin and a bonfire raging only a few feet away.
It’s cocky of Michael to place me here, but my brother loves to put on a good show.
My head is pounding and blood drips from cuts in my torso where I was kicked and dragged by the guards, but I have long since leaned into the pain, letting it become part of me until I’m numb. After a lifetime of being beaten black and blue, physical pain loses its edge.
“Surprise,” my brother’s voice booms, sparking an ember in the center of my gut.
“Brother,” I force out through the dryness of my mouth and the throbbing ache in my shoulders. “So nice of you to show.”
He laughs, a deep chuckle straight from his belly, and when I lift my head, the ember ignites into an inferno, scorching through every part of me. Sara is with him, her hands cuffed behind her and her dress torn on the side. But she’s alive.
Her gaze is unfocused, and her cheek is black and blue.
I have hated my brother for many things, but it isn’t until right now, this moment, that pure and absolute loathing pours into my veins.
“Surprised?” Michael grins wide. “I thought you two would want to be reunited. One last time.”
I grit my teeth, my eyes never leaving Sara’s. Her movements are sluggish and jilted, but when her gaze locks onto mine, energy wraps around the beating organ in my chest, and shocks it into a faster rhythm. I’m sure I will meet my death. And I will welcome it with open arms, as soon as I make sure Sara won’t have the same fate.
What good is a world without her in it?
“You’ve always been a gracious host,” I snark.
His grin drops, turning into a sneer, his amber gaze narrowed as he drops Sara to the ground and walks toward me, not stopping until I can see the black specks in his eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”
I smile. “You could always kill me, maybe turn me into a trophy to place in your room.”
He tsks, walking to the side and grabbing something from the guard’s hands before walking back over. When he arrives, I realize it’s a fire poker, the same type he used to give me the scar that became my namesake, only now, the end is bright orange from sitting in the open flame.
My insides tense.
“Maybe I’ll flay the skin from your bones,” Michael spits, holding up the poker and watching as it glows. “Use you as a rug in my bedroom so even in death you never forget your place.”
“Oh, brother.” I grin. “We both know that even in death, I’ll haunt you. Just like our father does.”
His eyes rage and his hand jabs forward, the hot brand searing into my chest, directly over the hyena tattoo, the smell of burning flesh curling into the air as I bite down on my tongue so hard that blood floods my mouth.
“Tristan,” Sara cries out from where she’s still sprawled on the ground, although her voice is muddled.
“I should have known it was you. Running to gather the rest of the freaks to band behind you.” Michael laughs. “What did you think, that you would rule Gloria Terra? That you would kill me?!” His voice rises, manic in its high pitch and tone.