Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(83)

“You won’t see that day,” Betty spat.

“No? Hmmm. Cayan, you might disengage. This is about to get…nasty.”

“I’m a part of this, mesasha. I will continue to be.”

“You’ll think less of me, but since we don’t have time to argue, so be it.”

The room stilled into a pregnant silence. Sanders felt the stress of those around him as if it was a palpable thing, but no one moved. No one walked forward to grab Betty or even tended to the wounded, including Shanti.

A sharp intake of breath had Sanders trying to look in Betty’s direction. A harsh groan, then shallow breaths, panting like a dog in the sun. The foreign woman was starting her revenge.

“No screams, yet, huh Sturgane? You see, I learned your name. I wanted to know who killed my future. The whole way here I had a feeling I would see you—strange, isn’t it? If I believed in Fate, I would think this meeting was destined. Instead, I see it for what it is—you were always the most ambitious of the Inkna when it came to scouring for new wealth. Of course I would find you chasing the wealthy nations. But enough about that now; you must scream for me or Sanders will never be happy. How about this?”

The Captain shifted his stance, his palm spread along the back of her neck. A high-pitched keening crowded the space, chasing away all silence. Nails scrabbled on stone, clawing, screeching where they scraped.

“He just tore two of his nails off on the floor,” someone said in a terrified whisper. He looked like a swirling mockup of Tobias hovering over Sanders’ head. Good fighter. Great in a pinch. Wise choice to bring along.

“You have to scream, filthy rat, otherwise I won’t have done Sanders justice,” Shanti said with fierce tears in her voice. “I owe him my life. My destiny. You will pay him with yours. Let’s increase the pressure.”

“How did you escape?” Sturgane shrieked. “They said you were dead!”

“No, no. I prayed for death, oh yes I did. You and your filthy brethren stole my life from me. But alas, I am not dead. Some days that is the biggest travesty of all. No, I am not dead,” she said softly. “But you are about to be.”

“He will claim you and rape you over and over until you beg for death! You will bear his children in chains like the dog you are!” Sturgane screamed.

The Captain shifted again, his body leaning farther over Shanti. Suddenly the air was solid, everyone in the dungeon struggling to breath, backing to the walls, looking for the exit.

“Cayan, no. He is mine,” Shanti said urgently. “I have to finish this. I have to finish what he started. For Romie. For Sanders.”

“There are…” Sturgane’s voice cut off in a whine.

“Two of us, yes,” Shanti answered, her attention never far from Betty’s face. “It seems I found another one before the Being Supreme could. It will be a wonderful joke when he finds out, don’t you think?”

“Impossible.”

“Improbable, not impossible, as you see.”

“Two swine that will be chained and tortured! You are nothing!”

“Well, Sanders, your friend is very rude,” Shanti said simply. “No more stalling.”

“Their eyes are glowing,” someone uttered in a hushed whisper.

The fast breathing was back. Then the keening, animalistic sound. Primal. Agonized.

“No, no,” Shanti said in a hush. Her voice quivered. “You are just like the little mouse, trying to end your own life. I can’t let you do that.”

Clothes rustled in the darkness. Sanders struggled to hear, needing this revenge even if administered by another. Betty started to howl, out of control. Deep, wells of pain, both emotional and physical, saturated his voice, split his vocal chords.

“I hate your Gift.” It sounded like Shanti was fully crying now, her own voice laced with life-consuming pain long endured. “But I can see how effective it is. You must have no soul to use it.”

“Naaahhhh! Hhhaaaaaaa! Aaaahhhhhh!” It was a collection of wails. Eternal suffering. Anguish beyond reckoning. Sanders almost felt guilty Betty had to endure it.

Almost, but not quite.

Everyone was shifting now, uncomfortable, scared even. The Captain huddled closer, nearly smothering the sobbing foreign girl with his body. Clothes ripped, hands slapped skin, Betty rolled and stamped his body. Then screaming. Wild, shrill shrieks, echoing off the walls and drowning out all thought.

Men were turning away. One vomited. Still Betty screamed. Louder and louder, his voice nothing but a guttural scraping. His vocal chords sounded like they had been burned away. His back was arching as he lay, his stomach extended, his legs twisting in on themselves.

Finally the Captain said softly, “Enough, mesasha. Let him die.”

“Why, when I cannot?” Shanti sobbed.

But the sound cut off as if ripped away. The woman wavered.

“What did you do to him?” Tobias said in a fearful whisper.

“Punished him for killing my love and helping destroy everything in the world I hold dear. Sanders, please know that your suffering, while longer in duration, was nothing compared to his. I used his Gift on him along with the pain. It is…an effective way to torture. A soul-killing way to torture. For me. My debt to you has been fulfilled. We are even.”

“That’s all well and good, but I still feel like shit,” Sanders rasped. It was true. Why lie?