“PUPPET!” he screamed, whipping his head around.
Terror washed through her veins at the sound of violence in his voice. She held as still as possible, barely breathing. Cold rocks bit into her bare back, but she didn’t dare move a muscle lest the chains on her wrists should rattle.
Fast footsteps echoed as Fear came tearing through the forest, Thick and Stick on his heels. Solveig swore under her breath. They were all still completely garbed in black.
“What the fuck happened?” Fear grabbedhimby the shirt, slamming him against the side of a boulder.
“Her chains weren’t locked properly!” He quivered as Fear lifted him off the ground and smashed his head into the rock, knocking him out cold. Solveig smirked but stiffened as Fear scanned the area, his head moving slowly in all directions. She could only hope the fabric covering his face hindered his sight.
“She can’t have made it far, I left not ten minutes ago. If she was smart, she’d head towards the river.” He kept his voice gruff and low, addressing the other three. “Who was in charge of relocking her irons yesterday?” He towered over them causing them to shrink under his wrath.
Water spoke first. “Weren’t you the last to see her before Booth went in today?” she asked in a small voice.
Booth.Solveig didn’t likehimhaving a name. It didn’t matter. He was marked for a shallow grave.
“What do you want to do?” Thick said, not sounding nearly as scared as the others.
“Split up. She’ll be weak, which will make her careless. We don’t know what kind of training she’s had, but after three months of captivity, it won’t matter.”
“Should one of us stay here in case she’s hiding close by, waiting for night?” Stick suggested, scanning the area. His face passed right over where Solveig hid, and her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest. The traitor.
“I doubt she’s thinking that clearly. She’d want to escape as fast as she could,” Fear replied, shaking his head. Solveig was grateful he’d underestimated her. “Let’s gear up. We’ll each take a direction and search for her.”
Even though she couldn’t see his face, Stick’s body language indicated he wanted to argue but Fear shut him down. “Do not come back until you find her.”
They nodded and moved as a group back in the direction they’d come from.
Fear brought up the rear, surveying the area once more as if checking to make sure she wasn’t there. Did his face slow when he turned her way? No, it was only her panic getting the better of her. He finished his inspection before jogging to catch up to his companions.
Solveig let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t coming back here. And Booth was still lying on the ground, unconscious.
Once she was sure they were gone, she freed herself from her hiding place and found her footing. Solveig moaned as she stood. She never thought she’d be grateful just for being able to stand upright. For the first time, true hope bloomed in her chest.
There was a small pack next to the opening of the cave. The scent marked it as Booth’s. It was stuffed with food and knives, but no clothing. As much as she didn’t want to go back in the cave, she couldn’t stayout in the open on the off chance one of them disobeyed an order and came back.
Once inside the mouth of the cave, she weighed her options as she ate some of the lunch Booth had packed. She needed all the strength she could muster, but her stomach couldn’t handle so much food at once. She resolved to save the rest and ration it out—it could take days to make it back home.
When it had been a while since the others left, she deemed it safe to move around outside the cave. Walking over to Booth, she smiled as she stood over him—the keys to her chains hung from his belt. The release of her iron manacles was remarkably better than even the wind on her face.
Solveig took his hammer in one hand before kicking him for good measure. He was out cold. She spent precious minutes using her weak body to drag Booth back into the cave. The one time he stirred, she gleefully smashed his head with the hammer.
Even though it revolted her, she stripped him naked and dressed in his clothes. All but the black mask. She didn’t have the strength to lift and hang him from the hook, but the anchors in the ground would do just as well. She shackled him lying on his back. Once situated where he could never touch her again, she chuckled at the proof of her suspicions lying in front of her.
He’d been overcompensating for his lack of manhood.
Solveig brought the hammer down on the small part of him that he was compensating for, the pain jolting him awake. The gag in his mouth ensured he couldn’t make too loud a sound.
He thrashed and struggled against the irons, locking eyes with her in the fading light. They were a brown so dark they were almost black. His sandy-brown hair was shoulder-length and matted to his head with blood, sweat, and dirt. He was muscular but oddly proportioned for anIdavoll Fae. His torso was long and his legs were quite short, too short. His pointed ears marked him as at least half Elven, but Solveig wondered if perhaps the other half was not Vanir.
It didn’t matter—the venom in his eyes turned to ice cold fear as she brought the hammer gently to his chin. She would not gratify him by speaking, he would not get to hear her voice, her intentions clear in her eyes.
I wish I had time to savour this.
She didn’t, though. The sun was setting and she had to start moving. Hopefully the others were long gone by now and she’d have a clear shot to the river.
Still, she needed him to suffer, and she wanted to enjoy it while she had the chance.
Dragging the hammer across his chest and to his hip, she relished in the quickening of his breaths. Testing the weight of it in her hand, she brought the hammer down, shattering the bone. He tried to buckle over but the short chains prevented him, the gag muffling his scream of pain. She wished she could hear it.
