"This one belongs to another. His smell is all over her. She won't be useful."
Crap. Yes, I'd seen my fair share of torture recently, but of the four of us here, I was the fastest healer. I needed to keep this asshole's attention on me as long as possible. "Where's Wyatt?"
"Who?"
"The half-breed, where is he?"
Malice pulled the corners of Vale's mouth into a twisted smile. "Don't concern yourself with him any longer, woman. Enjoy your final few hours alive."
"Like I haven't heard that before."
Vale's gaze wandered from me up to the chain keeping me dangling from the ceiling. "Suffocation is a slow, painful way to die."
My guts twisted. "I've been tortured before."
"Indeed."
Vale and Goon left my cage door open—which didn't help me any, because I couldn't get out of that damned collar—and walked down the row. Past Baylor—whose intimidation face was on full-force and looked as easy to persuade as a brick wall—and past Marcus, who looked pissed enough to pop a few blood vessels. Vale opened Milo's cell door and took a single step inside.
Shit.
I had to angle a bit to see them through the bars and the two bodies in my line of sight. Milo seemed relaxed, but I'd seen him fight. I knew his poker face and how quickly he reacted to threats.
"How about you, boy?" Vale asked. "Have you been tortured before?"
Milo didn't answer. Didn't seem to react at all, and I wanted to know what he was thinking. He'd been beaten as a child, and he'd been wounded as a Triad Hunter. But torture was another animal altogether, something not really understood until it was experienced. Milo had suffered so much these last two months already.
"I'm the only one with the information you want," Marcus said.
"You're right," Vale replied. "But you know as I do that some things hurt much more than physical pain. And this human smells like you, Marcus. Why is that, I wonder?"
Milo's shoulders flexed. Marcus moved toward the bars, only to be jerked back by the collar around his neck.
Good God, that must have been some kiss, if Vale still smelled it.
Vale snapped his fingers. Goon turned the crank, and the chain yanked Milo right off his feet by the neck. Milo gasped and grabbed the chain with both hands. The collar lifted from behind, putting the curve of metal directly over his windpipe. Vale lunged forward and punched Milo in his unprotected midsection—the perfect blow to make his lungs seize up and knock the wind out. Milo's face flushed bright red. He coughed and sputtered and couldn't seem to keep his grip on the chain.
Marcus roared—a terrible sound more animal than man. I wanted to scream and yell, too, to make them stop hurting my friend. To make them hurt me instead. I'd heal. I always did. Milo didn't have my healing powers, and I'd already lost so many friends.
All I could was watch, and somehow that hurt more than any physical blows that Vale could have landed.
The moment seemed to last for hours, though in truth was probably only a minute or two. But when you can't breathe—when you're watching a friend who can't breathe and you can't do anything to help—even a minute is an excruciating eternity. Vale finally gestured at Goon, who released the slack on Milo's chain. Milo hit the floor hard and rolled onto his side, away from us, coughing and gasping.
Vale stepped out and closed the cell door. "Think about it a while, Marcus," he said. "You're quite alone here, and I can make his death last for days."
"I will kill you with my bare hands, Vale," Marcus said in a voice so deadly it sent chills down my spine.
"Who's the one in a cage, Jaguar?"
Vale and his goon exited without loosening our chains, leaving Marcus, Baylor and I no choice but to stand there.
"Milo?" I said.
His reply was a fierce grunt. He raised his right hand and gave a thumbs-up, but didn't turn to face us. He just laid there, panting.
"I'm so sorry," Marcus said. His voice was a whisper, but sounded incredibly loud in the silence of the prison.
Crap. Yes, I'd seen my fair share of torture recently, but of the four of us here, I was the fastest healer. I needed to keep this asshole's attention on me as long as possible. "Where's Wyatt?"
"Who?"
"The half-breed, where is he?"
Malice pulled the corners of Vale's mouth into a twisted smile. "Don't concern yourself with him any longer, woman. Enjoy your final few hours alive."
"Like I haven't heard that before."
Vale's gaze wandered from me up to the chain keeping me dangling from the ceiling. "Suffocation is a slow, painful way to die."
My guts twisted. "I've been tortured before."
"Indeed."
Vale and Goon left my cage door open—which didn't help me any, because I couldn't get out of that damned collar—and walked down the row. Past Baylor—whose intimidation face was on full-force and looked as easy to persuade as a brick wall—and past Marcus, who looked pissed enough to pop a few blood vessels. Vale opened Milo's cell door and took a single step inside.
Shit.
I had to angle a bit to see them through the bars and the two bodies in my line of sight. Milo seemed relaxed, but I'd seen him fight. I knew his poker face and how quickly he reacted to threats.
"How about you, boy?" Vale asked. "Have you been tortured before?"
Milo didn't answer. Didn't seem to react at all, and I wanted to know what he was thinking. He'd been beaten as a child, and he'd been wounded as a Triad Hunter. But torture was another animal altogether, something not really understood until it was experienced. Milo had suffered so much these last two months already.
"I'm the only one with the information you want," Marcus said.
"You're right," Vale replied. "But you know as I do that some things hurt much more than physical pain. And this human smells like you, Marcus. Why is that, I wonder?"
Milo's shoulders flexed. Marcus moved toward the bars, only to be jerked back by the collar around his neck.
Good God, that must have been some kiss, if Vale still smelled it.
Vale snapped his fingers. Goon turned the crank, and the chain yanked Milo right off his feet by the neck. Milo gasped and grabbed the chain with both hands. The collar lifted from behind, putting the curve of metal directly over his windpipe. Vale lunged forward and punched Milo in his unprotected midsection—the perfect blow to make his lungs seize up and knock the wind out. Milo's face flushed bright red. He coughed and sputtered and couldn't seem to keep his grip on the chain.
Marcus roared—a terrible sound more animal than man. I wanted to scream and yell, too, to make them stop hurting my friend. To make them hurt me instead. I'd heal. I always did. Milo didn't have my healing powers, and I'd already lost so many friends.
All I could was watch, and somehow that hurt more than any physical blows that Vale could have landed.
The moment seemed to last for hours, though in truth was probably only a minute or two. But when you can't breathe—when you're watching a friend who can't breathe and you can't do anything to help—even a minute is an excruciating eternity. Vale finally gestured at Goon, who released the slack on Milo's chain. Milo hit the floor hard and rolled onto his side, away from us, coughing and gasping.
Vale stepped out and closed the cell door. "Think about it a while, Marcus," he said. "You're quite alone here, and I can make his death last for days."
"I will kill you with my bare hands, Vale," Marcus said in a voice so deadly it sent chills down my spine.
"Who's the one in a cage, Jaguar?"
Vale and his goon exited without loosening our chains, leaving Marcus, Baylor and I no choice but to stand there.
"Milo?" I said.
His reply was a fierce grunt. He raised his right hand and gave a thumbs-up, but didn't turn to face us. He just laid there, panting.
"I'm so sorry," Marcus said. His voice was a whisper, but sounded incredibly loud in the silence of the prison.
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