“Imogen would never do such a thing,” he confirms stiffly.
“But she did. I just so happened to have it planned on the same night. I’ve never believed in fate but maybe it was fate who wanted us together all along.”
There’s no containing Sebastian nor Seamus’s anger then. They take it all out on me. Through my bleary and swollen eyes I see Kirill stand back with his arms folded just watching. And in the back of mind I wonder what he’s up to.
By the time they’re done their beatdown my head hangs heavy against my chest. My breaths come in labored. Each breath becomes harder than the last. Parts of my body feel numb from the pain. A blessing and a curse.
“My wife. . .” My voice is strained and filled with pain. It hardly comes out. But they hear me. “Where. Is. My. Wife.”
Kirill smirks sinisterly. The irony isn’t lost on me. He’s searching for his promised bride. I’m asking for mine. He’s relishing this.
“My daughter,” Seamus corrects harshly, “will never be around the likes of you again.”
“Death will not keep me from her.”
Seamus’s lips thin. “I’ll test that theory soon.” He nods his head at Sebastian. He follows behind him as he leaves this fucking cell. Kirill taunts me with the key as he locks me in.
He stays behind, watching me like a predator would their prey on the other side of the cell.
I crumple to the floor and spit up more blood. Then, I prop myself against the wall so I can breathe. Ribs are definitely broken.
“Have you become a guard dog?” I snicker at him.
“I stayed behind for a few questions of my own,” he says.
I blow out a shaky breath. “And you think I’ll answer?”
“If it involves me taking your pretty little wife.”
I snarl at him. “Don’t fucking touch her.”
Kirill smiles. “So much spirit for someone named the Grim Reaper.” He approaches the cell and dangles the key. “Maybe I can be your savior and set you free.”
“I don’t do foolish thinking.” While my mind races beyond comprehension I physically can’t get up and isolate myself. Maybe this is the true torture. To be stuck in a mental meltdown without being able to regulate myself in the healthy way I’ve learned how.
“Suit yourself.” He swings the keyhole ring around his finger. “But you will answer my questions.”
“Can’t promise an answer,” I bite.
“Zhen Huang," he says. “Her name ring a bell to you?”
I always hated that expression. No name rings a fucking bell. You either have knowledge of it or don’t. But I don’t argue against his figure of speech.
“The late sister of Tao. Si.”
“My promised bride,” he muses. “Was Tao’s father’s last order before he died.”
“And so did Zhen.”
He tsks. “Do not let my brawn fool you. I am of brains, too. Zhen didn’t die.”
And while I have the information on Zhen he so desperately seeks I’ve been sworn to keep it a secret. I bite down on my tongue.
“You know I was close to the truth. A soldier of mine many months ago had called me with information when he was in the states. Said a woman of Zhen’s description was last found in Maine. Now imagine my surprise when I find my soldier dead in Hell’s Kitchen with Tao’s calling card all over it. Doesn’t sound dead to me, does it Reaper?”
Constantine had warned Tao killing the Russian soldier would only make him a target. But Tao is young. Still so much yet to learn.
And I can lie to Kirill all I want. He knows the truth. He just needs someone to confirm it before he begins his hunt.
