Scarred(Never After #2)(90)

Finally, he removes the metal from my skin, the burn so powerful it makes my eyes blur from the pain.

He steps in close, the fire poker hanging at his side. Leaning in, he rests his forehead against mine. “Blood of my blood, you have done so much to bring shame to our name. When I rid you from this earth, the angels will sing in Heaven, and our ancestors will cheer with joy.”

My chest pulls tight, knowing that he’s won, and there’s nothing to be done for it.

It’s over.

“I’m going to leave you here to think about what you’ve done,” he whispers. “And I want you to know that while my guards are prodding and poking until the rest of your skin is as scarred as your face, I’ll be ripping your lying slut of a woman apart piece by piece.”

“When I am free of this,” I say, swallowing around the scratch in my throat. “I will kill you for touching her.”

Michael cackles, throwing his head back, his hand resting on his chest. “Oh, brother. I’m not going to touch her. I’m going to fill every hole until it gapes and tears, until my seed seeps from the bleeding wounds I’ve created in her tight little body. I’m going to erase your existence within her and replace it with my own, right before I cut out her heart and feed it to you for dinner.” He presses the poker against my other side now.

And this time, I do let out a scream. A guttural roar, promising violence, and reeking of pain, my chest exploding until the rage floods through my body like water rushing from a broken dam.

“And then I’ll kill you too, and we’ll go on here in Gloria Terra, as if you never existed at all.” He blows the tips of his fingers and pops them open. “Poof. Just like that.”

My eyes roam the grass until they fall on Sara’s form. She’s unconscious now, and my heart falters. “Sara,” I rasp, although my entire body burns from the word. “Sara!” I yell louder, desperate for her to move, for her to show me she still breathes. But she doesn’t.

She lies there instead.

“Maybe if you pray hard enough, brother, they’ll reunite you two in the afterlife.”

Michael smiles and then passes the poker off to a guard on his right. “Stick him every hour until he begs for death.”





CHAPTER 51





Sara B.





This is my first time in the dungeons, and they’re exactly as I expected them to be. Dark and dreary and smelling of must.

My head pounds from the remnants of the laudanum and I clank my chained-up wrists against the dank stone wall, knowing they’re much too strong for me to break.

I have no clue how long it’s been. I’m not sure if Tristan is still alive, although, as insane as it sounds, I think I’d know if he was no longer in the land of the living.

Despite everything, there’s still a small ember of hope flickering in my chest, and that keeps me holding on.

All is not lost until it is lost.

A door slams open and small cracks of light filter through the iron-barred window of the concrete door. My stomach cramps, icy tendrils of fear worming through my psyche as I wonder if it’s the king coming to claim retribution for my sins against him. Or maybe it’s a guard wanting to take advantage of a chained-up girl with no way to escape.

Turns out, it’s neither.

The cell door swings open, and Marisol, wide eyed and wild-haired, rushes in, her hand covering her mouth as a muffled sob breaks free. She runs over and scans me from head to toe.

“Marisol,” I croak, my voice shaky and strained.

“Milady,” she whispers. There’s a key in her hand, and relief pours through me until I shake.

“Quiet. We have little time.” She looks behind her as she unlocks my chains, blood rushing through my limbs as they drop to the ground. I wince as the feeling comes back into my extremities and I heave myself forward onto my knees, gritting my teeth through the ache of my muscles as I push myself to a stand.

“How?” I ask, rubbing my wrists to help the blood flow.

Marisol smiles. “Together we rule, divided we fall.”

Shock freezes me in place. “You’re a rebel? But you spoke of them so cruelly, I don’t—”

“Once upon a time, I was young and foolish and desperately in love.” She pushes me forward, out of the cell, lowering her voice to a whisper as she leads us to the back corner of the dungeons until we’re facing what looks like a solid stone wall. “He was a penniless man with no title to his name.” She shakes her head. “But I loved him more than anything.”

She turns toward me then, gripping my shoulders tight. “You asked Ophelia about her family, but you never cared to ask of mine. If you had, you would have learned that my father is a social climber. So…” Tears spring to her eyes. “It should be no surprise he threatened to kill my child, in order to keep glory to our name.”

My heart clamps down, somersaulting with pain for what she’s saying.

“But someone came to my aid, and took my precious baby, hiding him deep in the shadows along with the man that I loved. He fed them, clothed them, and promised safety as long as I helped usher in a new dawn.”

My breathing stutters, hope flaring to life in my chest. “Tristan.”

“The scarred prince.” She nods. “The rebel king. He saved my family. It was imperative no one knew of our connection. So yes, I said despicable things. But only because my son’s life depends on us succeeding. I could not trust you, and therefore, I could not speak.”