Chest heaving, he turns back around, smoothing his hair with hands that have a fine tremor which most people would miss, but not me. He stares straight at me and gives a single jerk of his head.
“Split him in half.”
“My pleasure,” I reply, meaning it as I loosen the rope and let go, our pig falling back onto the cradle’s point hard.
He screams loud enough that I can hear his throat tearing, but this time it does nothing to excite me, the feminine echoes in my head now full of pain as my little bird is violated over and over again by men who will soon die for daring to touch her.
His screams become the plaintive cry of a wounded animal as our men heave his legs down, blood and bits of his insides sliding down the wood as they rip him apart.
I make a vow, watching this pig die horrifically, unmoved by the gory sight before me. Every Soldier who has dared touch our bird will die a bloody death, begging for mercy that I will not show them.
Looking over to Aeron, I can see the same promise of violence in his tumultuous eyes. The same lack of mercy. Their deaths already written in his stormy, ocean eyes.
Until this point, our Pretty Bird may have been alone, but now she has demons on her side. Ready to go to war and avenge all who have wronged her.
For she is ours, and no one else will ever touch her again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“RIGHT HERE” BY CHASE ATLANTIC
LARK
The hours flow past in waves of pain and numbness. They allow me slight breaks to go to the toilet or to feed me lunch but am not allowed to take the blindfold off, so I have no fucking clue what the design on my skin is. Knox stays by my side, at least it feels like he does, his body heat flowing into me as he strokes my hair and places a straw between my lips to give me sips of sweet energy drinks.
Jude is pretty silent the whole time, and I find myself opening up to them both, just as Jude predicted. Tales from my childhood, before Mom was murdered, fill the silence, and I find myself smiling as I recall them, the action feeling a little foreign on my face. Everything that has happened to me in the years that have passed since her death has left me with little to smile about. I am regaling an especially funny story of the time that Mom snuck Rook and I to the Grand Lake beach and Rook gothis head stuck in a bucket when a loud crash has me sitting up with a shriek.
“Bro! What the fuck!” Jude shouts, and my hand flies to my blindfold, ready to tear it off and see what is going on.
“Don’t you dare fucking touch that, Dove.” Aeron’s cold voice lashes over me, and my traitorous body responds by coating my lower lips in wetness even as my heart races. I carefully and slowly lower my hand back to my lap.
“You could have ruined it!” Jude seethes, and I’ve never heard him so angry before, the sound of his fury like that of hundreds of ant bites.
“Stand aside, Knox,” Aeron orders, and I realize Knox must be in front of me, protecting me. My brows furrow as I wait for Knox to do as he’s bidden. “Don’t fucking test me right now. Move. Aside.”
A rush of cool air hits my front a moment later, and I can feel my whole body stiffen, awaiting Aeron’s wrath. My nostrils flare with annoyance that I can’t fucking see anything, but I daren’t anger him further, my hands clenching into fists in my lap, and I’m practically biting my tongue to hold in any harsh words that want to escape.
I jump when fingertips brush my cheek, my inhale sharp as they run down the side of my neck, then along the sore, freshly-inked skin across my chest.
“How long?” Aeron whispers, and I shake my head slightly as I try to work out what he’s asking.
“How long what, Devil Man?” I murmur back, something keeping me from making my voice any louder, fear making my stomach knot.
“How long has your father been letting his men rape you?”
I flinch back, my heart racing as my whole body trembles. Phantom hands try to grasp me, and I have to concentrate hard on not hyperventilating, his words tearing at my insides. Istruggle to push the memories back into their tiny box and lock it tight.
“What are you fucking talking about?” Jude asks, his voice soft and hollow sounding.
“Answer the question, Dove,” Aeron commands, and I’m so thrown by my sordid home situation finally coming to light, of them discovering just how damaged I am, that I answer.
“Since the day after my twelfth birthday. The day after…”
“We killed your mom,” Aeron supplies in a tone completely devoid of emotion, and I nod. His hand turns to a fist against my collarbone, pressing into the stinging flesh, and I brace myself for the blow, but it comes in a different, more confusing and devastating form as he speaks again.
“No man will ever touch you without your consent again, Dove. That is a fucking promise.”
“And we will tear apart every man who has dared to touch you,” Tarl adds, his voice close, and I startle at the darkness which laces his tone. It reminds me of being trapped in the cell a few doors down, full of hopeless despair.
