Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(28)

Ryland’s breathing picked up as Cail spoke, his breath coming in deep heavy spurts as he threatened hyperventilation. I listened as the sound of his breathing turned into yells. The word ‘kill’ repeated over and over.

“Good.” Cail sneered, the pride at a job well done evident in his voice.

I heard the click of Cail’s foot against the bottom stair, the sound barely audible over Ryland’s panic attack and continued panting. That one click clenched inside of me, my body rocking in on itself before it snapped, sending me to my feet. Talon gasped at my movement, his body too weak to follow, to defend me. Ryland stopped repeating his words, and Cail turned around, his dark eyes meeting mine as a sneer appeared on his lips.

We stood facing each other, Cail’s dark eyes taunting me, warning me of what would come if I opened my mouth and did what I was planning. I knew better; he would do it anyway. I took the warning, magnified it, and sent it back to him, my eyes narrowing in a taunt that I was sure I didn’t possess the means to follow up on.

I could hear Talon’s whimper, feel his weak fingers on my ankle, but I ignored them. For my idea to work, it had to be me against Cail. I needed to get the knife, and we needed to warn Joclyn.

“You’re going to let him go and make him kill her, aren’t you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as loud as possible but knowing I was failing. “You’re going to chicken out and make Ryland kill her for you.”

Cail moved off the step and back in front of the cells. His hand wrapped around one of the bars of the door to my cell, and his face pushed awkwardly against the narrow opening as he glared into me. His lips curled, and narrowed; I felt my heart clunk to a stop, the wretched thing forgetting to beat in its sudden panic. I ignored the pain in my chest and the desperate grab against my ankle. I ignored my better judgment and stepped forward, placing my face only millimeters away from his.

“You’re weak, Cail,” I spat, saying the one thing I knew would always be his trigger, the vice that Edmund had implanted him with. “You are nothing without Edmund. You can’t even kill a little girl on your own.”

I took another step forward, my hand extending toward the pocket of his jeans as he pressed himself against the bars, the door rattling ominously as his anger shook through him.

“I can kill a little girl, Wynifred. Or do you not remember?” he spat.

I sneered, careful to keep his focus on my face and not on what my fingers were slowly maneuvering out of the pocket of his pants and into my own.

“Can you really?” I taunted, fear and hunger shaking my legs. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand much longer. But that was okay, I had done what I needed to do.

Cail’s lip curled as he shook the bars, his anger so close to the surface that even he could barely control it. I wanted to congratulate myself on a job well done. I had pushed him to this brink several times, but before, when he was my loving brother. He would have never followed through then. Now I was his enemy. I would be a punching bag.

I wanted to scream as the door swung open, his shaking body rushing into the cell. I held still, ready to take what was coming. Cail’s hand clasped around my neck as he pushed me against the wall, my feet lifted off the ground as he held me there. The strong grip of his hand against my throat cut off the airflow, the blood flow, and started to cut off my life.

I heard Talon scream, and Sain plead. I heard their voices for one minute before the static took over, the blackness seeping into my vision.

It started slowly on the outer edges, but all I could do was smile. I don’t know why, but all I saw was the image of the beautiful girl. I heard Talon’s voice, and I was okay.

As the black took over and zeroed in on Cail’s face, I saw my brother, the boy who had practically raised me. I saw the soft lines of his face, the dark purple sheen of his eyes. Strangely enough, I still loved him.





Chapter Eight





“Wynifred?” Talon’s voice was soft in my ear, his hand warm against my cheek.

I moaned and tried to roll over, but my body didn’t respond. I stayed limp on the floor, my cheek pressed into the ground, and my eyes slowly opening to the green light that Sain held in his hands.

“She’s awake,” Sain sighed, his voice quiet as he tried not to wake Ryland up.

I blinked, letting my eyes adjust as I looked toward Sain. The intensity of his stare scared me. I wanted to look away. I wanted to move away from that look. But I couldn’t make my body do anything.

Everything hurt.

Talon’s hand grasped at my shoulder frantically, the pads of his fingers slipping on wetness and sending little pinpricks of pain down my spine.

I tried to move again. This time, my body allowed me to roll onto my back. The movement was only half managed though, and I landed hard as I half fell, half rolled onto the stone. I groaned as the impact sent a wash of agony through me. My teeth clenched in an attempt to keep the pain out of my voice. I wasn’t sure there was a part of me that didn’t hurt.

“What happened?” I managed to squeak out, my voice catching on what felt like sandpaper lodged in my throat.

“Cail beat you unconscious after you punched him, Wyn.” Talon’s voice was strained, the tone rough, making it obvious he had been crying.

“I punched him?” I asked, the words barely escaping.

I didn’t remember punching him. I only remembered being pinned against the wall and then blackness. I looked away from the filthy ceiling toward Talon. He lay on the floor of his cell, his body still pressed up against the bars, a new purple bruise forming on his cheek. I wanted to reach out and touch the dark mark, but couldn’t get my sore fingers to respond. Just seeing it there told me the story I knew Talon wouldn’t. Talon had yelled out, pleaded with Cail to stop hurting me, and in turn, he had been beaten too. He looked at me with glistening eyes and moved his arm closer to me. His face screwed up in pain as he moved, his arm only making it halfway before it dropped to the stone, his body not strong enough to support it.