Fleetingly, the others' faces rush past, like leaves in the wind, but my mind is incapable of grasping onto anything other than the beautiful dust motes in front of me, and I’m glad I can’t focus. Otherwise, I might be screaming, and I’m sure I’ll be doing that soon enough anyway.
Suddenly the van stops, and a brief flash of panic makes my muscles stiffen, but even that is smothered under the cloud that is slowly taking over my being. The doors fling open and I wince as the bright light assaults my eyes once more. At least a warm breeze blows into the back, allowing me some fresh air.
Two masked men roughly grab my arms, and I hear Tarl snarl behind me, but the loud beat of my heart drowns out the sound as I’m thrown back into a memory of two Soldiers holding me down as a third buries himself between my thighs. I blinkand I’m back in the heat of Iran, being led into what looks like some kind of farm building, although I see little before I’m plunged into semi-darkness again and led into what looks like an old barn.
The musky smell of animals hits my nose as the sweat drips down my back and under my arms with the oppressive heat in here. The return of my senses tells me that the numbness is fading, and I desperately try to pull it back like I’m hiding under a duvet, waiting for the monsters to go away.
I hiss when I’m thrown onto a chair, the shock of landing on my tailbone making me cry out. The sound of Tarl barking in another language comes from opposite me as he, too, is forced into a chair, his arms behind his back.
“You fucking touch her…” he growls, and I jerk when my hands are roughly tied to the back of the chair, the pull on my shoulders even more excruciating than it was when they were just behind my back. A masked man bends down to tie my legs to the chair, the cable ties cutting into my bare ankles. I realize then that I’m only in my panties and one of Knox’s large T-shirts, sans bra, while the sound of my heartbeat in my ears grows louder, black spots dancing across my vision as I hyperventilate. “Breathe,Azizam.”
Tarl’s voice filters into my panicked brain, and I blink once more to find that we’re alone, and once again I’ve lost time and don’t know what’s happened.
“T–Tarl?” I ask, my breathing slowing enough to allow me to speak. He looks pained as he stares at me.
“I’m here,Eshgham,” he says, his voice soft. “You’d do better to go back to being numb.” I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished.
“I won’t come back if I do,” I admit, my voice hoarse as I try to push past the lump in my throat. “I’ve spent too much timenumb already, Tarl. Don’t make me spend the last part of my life there.” His jaw works as I voice my fears.
“I told you—” he starts, cutting off when the door to the barn swings open and an imposing, older man strides in, two guards either side of him. They wait by the door, guns held in their arms as they stare straight ahead. My heart thrashes wildly in my chest, my eyes feeling impossibly wide as I take them in.
The newcomer is wearing what looks like a suit and white shirt, but also not quite like the Western suits I’m used to seeing. The jacket is open, without buttons, the pants loose and flowing, with a wide, woven belt wrapped around his waist. A black and white patterned cloth is wrapped around his head, his skin is a tawny brown like Tarl’s, and he has a neat, full beard and deep brown irises. There’s a deadness in his eyes that more than rivals the look in Aeron’s and Jude’s combined when I first met them, but the way he smiles, his nostrils flaring as he practically inhales my terror lets me know that this is a monster of a different sort.
“Tarl, so pleased that you could join us,” he purrs, although his eyes are fixed on me as he speaks. I want to shy away, to cringe back but the chair and being restrained prevents me from both, because this man exudes pure evil. “And you bought a friend, how nice.” He comes to a stop before me, crouching down, and I can hear Tarl growling, but I can’t take my eyes off the handsome man before me. And he is good-looking, but there’s something just so wrong about him, like a demon shadow lurking beneath the surface, ready to devour me whole. “What’s your name, little girl?” I want to vomit, his smooth, accented voice sliding over me like an oil slick, ready to suffocate me completely, unlike Tarl’s melodious cadence, even though the accent is the same. He chuckles, and I actually have to swallow bile, the sound bringing back memories of all the men who’ve laughed as they broke me rushing to the surface. “Never mind,I already know everything there is to know about you, Lark Jackson. About the fact that your father is the recently deceased Rufus Jackson, leader of the Dead Soldiers, shot by his own son no less.” My heart thuds painfully.How does he know Rook killed our sperm donor?“About the fact that he used to give you to his men to fuck and use as they saw fit.” I whimper, Tarl cursing loudly behind this man, but he’s caught me in his snake-like eyes and I’m unable to look away. “Oh, don’t worry, my pretty, western bird,” he coos while reaching out, and I flinch so hard that the chair scoots back a little. His grin just widens. “None of us will touch you like that, you’re too impure for the likes of us.” He strokes my cheek and a tear slides down to meet his fingers. He pulls back, rubbing his finger with his thumb before placing it in his mouth and sucking my tear off. His eyelids flutter like he relishes the taste of my terror, fucked up bastard. “You’re just here to help convince Tarl to talk.”
“What the fuck do you want, Afshin?” Tarl snarls, and the man—Afshin—whirls around and backhands Tarl across the face so hard that his chair moves, almost toppling over.
“You will speak when I say you will!” Afshin shouts at Tarl, straightening up, and walking over to a long table that I had somehow missed. My pulse races as I get a glimpse at the tools on the tabletop, my breaths becoming rasping when Afshin picks up an ornate-looking blade. “Now, you will tell us who the other co-conspirators are who planned a coup with your parents all those years ago. I know that you’ve been in contact with them.”
My brows drop in confusion, only to shoot into my hairline when I vaguely recall the letters that I found hidden in Tarl’s drawer that time. That must be what he’s referring to.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tarl sneers, not taking his eyes from Afshin as the psycho just smiles, walking back over to us, still holding the wicked sharp knife up. It glints in the sunlight that streams in from the dirty windows, the curveof the blade sparkling. I’m suddenly grateful that I’m sitting down—albeit tied to—the chair as my legs feel weak the closer he gets.
“Don’t you?” Afshin asks, and I blink rapidly when Tarl roars as Afshin spins in my direction, the knife plunging into my shoulder. I frown, looking down at the beautiful knife whose hilt is now sticking out of me, and yet, I don’t feel any pain, which is strange, I should feel something, right?
“Fuck!” Tarl cries out, the sound jolting me back to reality as Afshin straightens up, leaving the knife where it is, a slight frown on his face as he takes me in.
I have the strange urge to giggle, remembering when Tarl threw a knife into that Tailor guy’s shoulder during the meeting about storming the Soldier’s HQ. Karma really is a fucking bitch. Warmth spreads from the knife, yet the pain is still not there, and I’m not sure why, but I’m grateful that I feel nothing, although sweat covers my skin, and my head is a little woozy.
“I have several knives on that table, Tarl, as well as a whole plethora of other toys. I know how you enjoy torturing people,Inquisitor,” Afshin states casually, turning to look at Tarl, his voice dark and foreboding. “And I will stick them all into her pretty, white flesh just like her father’s men stuck their dicks into her if you don’t start talking.” Tarl’s jaw works, his chest heaving and his body rigid and my eyes fill with tears at his hesitation.
Pain hits me with full force at that moment, but it’s not in my shoulder, and I glance down, half expecting to see another knife sticking out of my chest this time. Yet, there’s nothing there, and I look back up to see Afshin still leaning over Tarl, waiting for him to say something.
I realize what the pain is. It’s my heart breaking as Tarl holds his tongue, remaining silent even after I’m threatened. It’s the betrayal that he’s put his past before me; his future. It’s theknowledge that I will die for his cause, his revenge being more important than my life.
“I SEE FIRE” BY ED SHEERAN
TARL
My gaze flicks away from Afshin for just a moment, seeing the devastation and betrayal on my beautiful bird’s face as I keep silent. My soul cries out at the way her eyes fill with tears, her body slumping slightly as though she’s given up.
Just a little while longer,Koshgelam.
I can’t even acknowledge the knife sticking out of her shoulder, but luckily, it’s not near anything vital, and Afshin left it in, so for the moment it’s not bleeding too heavily.
“Cat still got your tongue, Tarl?” Afshin whispers, his brown eyes crazed, and it gives me a small amount of satisfaction to see him ruffled. Being in the same room as the man who murdered my family has my pulse pounding, my hands itching to tear him apart for what he did to me, and now Lark, but I must wait, bide my time until the moment is just right. “Bring him,” Afshin barks, striding away, and the two guards walk hurriedly over to me, unlocking my cuffs from the chair and then proceeding to drag me over to the table full of his tools. I don’t fight them as this might be just the opportunity I need. The new stitches in my forearm itch and I have to forcibly relax.Not yet.
“You know that I’ll never tell you, don’t you, murderer?” I sneer at Afshin, and my lips lift in a smile when the side of his face twitches.
