Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
My skin prickled.
My heart ached.
Victor pushed away from the exit and prowled toward the ruined man on the ground. Sniffing and pulling out a pristine white handkerchief from his breast pocket, he toed Henri and wrinkled his nose. “I said stop him, not kill him.”
“Sorry, Sir.” One of the guards bowed his head. “We were only protecting you.”
“Yes, yes.” Victor wiped his handkerchief along his upper lip as if he already smelled the sickly stench of death. Glancing around the cave, he sighed heavily. “Well, tonight hasn’t gone as planned, has it?”
Larry stepped forward and tore off his mask. He grinned like the devil. “Least he’s been dealt with. Never liked that cocksucker.”
Victor didn’t reply. His eyes returned to Henri twisted and mangled on the cave rock. A flicker of annoyance followed by frustration etched his face. “I really wish you hadn’t killed him.” He raked a hand through his perfect greying blond hair. “I had plans for him.”
Plans?
Ice frosted my spine.
“Sorry, Sir,” a few guards muttered.
Victor’s reptilian gaze met mine.
I flinched and tried to look away, but his pure evil trapped me like a moth drawn to light. “Ilyana. You truly have a knack for avoiding the fate you deserve.” With a twist of his lips, he cocked his head and studied me. His eyes narrowed as if he only just realised how much I despised him. “I suppose you want to die now.” He pointed at Henri. “Now your little lover is dead?”
I choked on a sob.
My eyes fell back on Henri.
He still hadn’t moved, hadn’t breathed.
I gave up hoping for goodness to win. I gave up believing we would get free.
Nothing but blackness existed inside me, and I sank deep, deep into it.
No panic.
No fear.
Just a howling, hollowing emptiness that I wished would suffocate me and finish this.
When I didn’t reply, couldn’t reply, Victor muttered a slur under his breath, then looked at the Masters congregated around Peter and me. “It looks as if there won’t be a Diamond Kiss tonight, after all.”
A ripple of disappointed moans. “Ah, come now, Vic. Just because it turned into a shit show, doesn’t mean the main event can’t take place.”
Roland stepped forward, his belly round and black cape dragging on the ground. “How about we put him on the altar and carve him up? I’m sure his blood will be drenched with stress. We could have a snack before the harvest.” He flicked a look at Peter. “Afterward, we can have our little cleaner mop up the mess and then bid on who will be the lucky one to carve out Ilyana’s heart.”
Peter snarled like a cornered animal beside me.
I waited for the surge of sickness and survival. Would I try to fight one last time? Would I ignore the agony of so many kicks and punches I’d endured and throw myself into a final attempt at freedom?
Or…should I just accept?
Accept and let it happen.
If I die, I can find him again.
Shifting onto my bloody knees, I held my chin high. “Do it, you sick bastard. Do it so I don’t have to look at you anymore.”
Peter choked. “Ily!”
Roland bared his teeth, stalking into me with fists clenched. “Why, you little—”
“Enough,” Victor hissed. “Decorum, if you please. I’ve had quite enough of brawling for one night.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to figure out how to salvage his diabolical evening. Dropping his hand, he looked at Henri again where he lay half on his stomach, half twisted on his side.
The angle of his spine once again filled me with horror that his back was broken.
Lowering to his haunches, Victor pressed two fingers against Henri’s blood-soaked neck, checking for his pulse.
I stopped breathing.
Peter stiffened.
Every Master and guard didn’t move as Victor slowly stood, and a smile spread his lips. Pointing at a bucket full to the brim with seawater by the cupboard of skulls, he ordered, “Dump that on him. Now.”
A guard stepped forward, grabbed the bucket, then sloshed his way to Henri. “All of it, Sir?”
Victor nodded and moved back. “Every drop.”
With a nod, the guard lugged the bucket with two hands, then tipped the entire icy contents over Henri.
I waited for him to wake with a gasp. To splutter and shed the lingering shroud of death.
Nothing.
He didn’t even flinch.
My entire heart fractured.
Victor was mistaken.
Whatever pulse he thought he felt—
“Again,” Victor commanded. “Get another bucket from the rockpool.”
With an obedient nod, the guard vanished behind the stone-carved podium—heading in the same direction where we’d followed Peter a few months ago while doing our best to avoid Emerald Bruises—then came back with the bucket glistening and dripping.
“Roll him onto his back this time. Dump it on his face,” Victor ordered.
“Yes, Sir.” Kicking Henri’s shoulder, the guard tripped back as Henri’s dead arm slapped against his boot. His legs remained crossed as his shoulder blades landed against the dampness of the cave’s floor.