“Did you know, in some cultures,” he tells me, his voice deceptively calm, and I know that whatever happens next will hurt. He holds up a small hand ax. “They take someone’s fingers for mistakes? Flatten his left hand on the table.”
“Tarl!” Lark shouts, but I’m only aware of the look of self-satisfaction in Afshin’s eyes as his guards flatten my left palm on the table. I do struggle this time, I can’t fucking help it, even if I know that this will give me the chance I need. My pulse rushes in my ears, my jaw clenched tightly as they force my palm down.
The sound of the ax whistling past fills my ears, and I feel the judder all the way up my arm as it buries itself in the wood, the sound of my cry echoing in my ears. Looking down, I watch as blood pours from the stump of my left pinkie finger. The pain rushes in a tidal wave, and I’m not pretending to slump as I cradle my left hand against my chest.Fuck, that hurts.Spots dance in front of my eyes, and it takes a couple of breaths to stop the rushing in my ears. The guards let me go and I crumple to the ground.
“Awww, a minor cut and he falls to the floor,” Afshin coos, laughing. I can hear Lark screaming, and it shatters my heart a little more.
I’m coming, Aziz-e delam.
Knowing that I only have one shot of this, the adrenaline pumps through me, deadening the pain from my severed finger as I push my left sleeve up, exposing the fresh stitches in my arm. Gritting my teeth, I tear them open, hissing out a pained breath as I withdraw the obsidian, surgical blade that I’d placed underneath my skin just before my capture, in preparation. It sparkles in the daylight, my blood coating the black, volcanic glass, which I know is several times stronger than steel.
Letting out a deep exhale, I sink into a state that I’ve been practicing for years, a place where my body takes over and instinct rules my motions. In one fluid move, I leap up, twistingand arching my arm to slash across both guards’ throats. It won’t kill them, but it’s enough to distract them so I can get to the real prize. My body turns as I complete the move, and using the table, I leap over it, straight at Afshin. His eyes widen for a brief second, and then the blade is slamming into his left eye socket, my other hand coming up to drive it home and straight into the fucker’s brain.
I go down with him, landing on top of him and then springing up quickly, just in case, but his chest is still, his right eye unseeing as he lies on the dirt floor, dead. A wave of euphoria washes over me, like the ghosts of my parents and sisters have finally found peace. Then a groan from behind the table sounds, and I turn, grabbing a long, curved sword.
Walking around the table, I see that the guards are dazed but coming around, blood dripping from their throats. Lifting the blade up high, I step over the first one, locking eyes with him as I swing the sword down, chopping his head off just as his hands come up in a pleading gesture. The second guard tries to scuttle away, but blood loss makes him clumsy, and I dispatch him the same way as the first, blood splattering over my arms and chest.
I look down at the carnage, my chest heaving as the gravity of what I’ve finally accomplished threatens to bring me to my knees.
“Tarl?” a soft voice whimpers, and my gaze snaps up, the sword clanging to the ground as I find my soulmate staring at me, eyes wide and her face so pale that I’m surprised she’s not passed out.
“Shit!” I reach down, grabbing the handcuff keys from the dead guard at my feet, then rush over to her. “I’m going to get you out of this,Aziz-e delam. You just need to hold on, okay?”
“O–okay,” she answers, but I’m finding it hard to meet her beautiful eyes, the memory of what my earlier silence did to her flashing before me. She whimpers when her hands are finallyfree, no doubt the move jogging the knife that’s still in her shoulder.Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“I just need to get some pressure on the wound,Koshgelam, but we can’t remove it yet. Not until I can get to a first aid kit, just in case it’s hit something,” I inform her, coming to the front of her and glancing around the room to see if there’s anything I can use. I grimace when I spot Afshin’s keffiyeh. It’ll have to do. “Stay there,Koshgelam.”
Striding over, I rip it from his head, noticing the patch of red that now mars the black and white fabric. I grab a handgun, tucking it into my waistband, and a small knife off the table, using it to help me tear the fabric into strips as I stride back towards her.
“I am not fucking having anything that cunt has worn touching me!” she growls, although it lacks the usual heat, and worry about how much blood she’s lost, and the very real possibility that she’s in shock has me biting my lip.
“You will do what I say,Azizam,” I command her, my voice low and full of warning. She narrows her eyes, and I realize that she’s not disgusted with me for my actions, but is pissed at being told what to do.
“Fine,” she huffs, holding her left elbow as she attempts to stop her arm from moving. She’s still sitting down, and I quickly braid up the torn strips, kneeling before her and placing them around the wound. She whimpers again, and hatred flashes across my vision for the man who should have suffered more before he died, but I couldn’t risk her safety to take my time, who knows when someone else might come to check on us. I don’t even know if anyone else is here.
Using the spare strips, I bind the makeshift bandage to her, hoping it’s enough to at least help. Then use the knife I’d grabbed to cut the ties at her ankles.
“That should help until we find something better,” I tell her, pausing as my hands tremble with the realization that I could have lost her, something that would have made this victory bitter and hollow.
“JigarTalâ?” she murmurs, a hand cupping my cheek, and I can’t stop the moisture that fills my eyes as I kneel before the other part of my soul, my mind swirling with all the what-ifs. “Look at me, my love.” I do as she orders, her beauty astounding, even pale and drained as she is.
“I could have lost you,” I tell her, my voice barely above a cracked whisper. “And it wouldn’t have been worth it. It would have broken me so completely that I would have taken a gun to my temple. I’m so sorry,Azizam.” As I acknowledge the consequences of my actions, I hang my head and the moisture spills down my cheeks. Revenge blinded me, and almost lost not just my heart, but the beating heart of the men who are as close as brothers to me.
“Tarl, look at me, please,” her soft voice orders, a strained edge that I know is because of her wound, an injury that I am responsible for. As I lift my head, tears glisten at the edge of my vision and I gaze at her, my jaw clamped shut. “I forgive you,JigarTalâ. I know what it feels like, to be unable to see a path other than the one you set for yourself.” Her words flow over me and remind me that she was in a similar position not too long ago. “Don’t get me wrong, I was fucking pissed at you when you kept that pretty mouth shut, but then I remembered that you forgave me, not even knowing what I was about to do. And what that man did to your family, I get it, Tarl. I’d do the same for Rook, I can’t blame you. And so, I forgive you.”
“Lark…Kharâbetam,” I breathe, astounded at this woman before me, so young but so fucking wise. She smiles, and although it’s weaker than usual, it still lights up the entire world.
“I’m ruined for you too,Jigar Talâ,” she responds, and I can’t stop myself from taking her face in my hands and kissing the lips which continue to save me time and again.
“As much as I’d love to deepen this,Eshgham, we need to get out of here and to treat that shoulder,” I sigh against her lips, my entire body tingling from just that small touch. I would love nothing more than to fuck her stupid in the blood of my enemies, but unfortunately, until I know that no one else is coming for us, her safety remains my priority.
“Escape, wound, then sex later,” she replies, and I chuckle, loving how fucking perfect this woman is for us.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” I tell her, letting her face go and standing up, holding my hand out for her to take. She winces when she stands, putting a lot of her weight on me as I support her around the waist with my left arm, trying not to jostle her shoulder too much, but our height difference makes it tricky.
Gingerly, we make our way over to the doors that they dragged us through not so long ago, both of us covered in sweat by the time we reach them, and Lark gasps next to me, causing me to look away from the window and down at her. She’s staring at the rapidly growing patch of red on her shirt—well, Knox’s shirt—from my missing finger.
“Fuck! Tarl!” she hisses, her voice still low but full of scolding, which only makes me smile and, in turn, makes her growl as she glances up at me. “You didn’t even wrap it up, and you’re bleeding.”
