“Wasn’t a compliment.”
“Look, I’ll give it my best shot. But only if you have another planwhenthat one fails.”
Niklaus exhales slowly. “I’m working on getting my left wrist out of this restraint.”
I pause.
“Hmm.” I blink slowly. “So, basically, if I fail at flirting with the captor my father permanentlymaimed, we’re dying in this basement.”
“Correct,” he says.
The basement door swings open, cracking into the cement wall with a boom.
“—and that girl will learn!” Agatha hollers.
Yep, that’s me. That girl.
A flood of light swarms the gloomy basement. But in this awful scenario, light bleeding into the darkness is never good. It brings terror and tormentors in its wake.
With more speed and aggression than an elderly woman should be capable of, Agatha bustles down the stairs. A bucket of water sloshes and spills as she stomps down each step with old penny loafers on her feet and a caddy of rags and sponges in her left hand.
“Oh my, I bloodied you up good, didn’t I?” Agatha stares at my face, collarbone, and ribs from a few feet away. For a moment, her thin lips pinch together, and I think she might be experiencing a touch of remorse…
“Next time, that small elven nose of yours breaks. Yes?” She shakes her bony fist at me.
“Understood,” I reply blankly.
My face is getting so swollen, I’m having a hard time showing any facial expressions at all, which can only be a good thing for me right now. It would hurt to roll my eyes, scowl, smile mockingly, or any other movement that would showcase my rebellious, pain-in-the-ass personality.
“Good. Now open your mouth. Young ladies should be put to death for using the vocabulary you displayed to me. But I won’t do that. I’m just going to scrub that filth from your oral orifice.”
My eyes widen. “Uh, no thanks.”
“No?” Agatha lifts her chin in surprise.
“I draw the line at anything to do with my oral orifice.”
Her slow chuckle is unnatural and off-putting. The powdery lines along her cheeks deepen, but that sickened smile of annoyance does not touch her eyes. They glare at me with a challenge. A deep-rooted need to break me.
“I don’t remember asking,” she says, timeworn voice like rotting carcasses in a barren, winter desert.
“I don’t remember begging.”
If Niklaus ever makes it home, I hope he’ll tell Krimson I went out swinging—not running my big mouth.
Agatha rolls up the black, flowy sleeves of her dress after setting her bucket and caddy on the floor. Her arthritic hands dig through the caddy, sorting through bars of soaps and amber bottles of solution.But she yanks out a dull, metal contraption. It has bolts and clamps and a round opening.
Damn.
I shift my wary gaze to Niklaus. He doesn’t meet my eyes but raises his brows at the tool that’s now hovering over my mouth.
“Wait. You’re not going to pick onhimat all?” I stammer nervously.
Agatha glances at him in disgust. “Oh, that boy’s penance is coming. He’s got the devil in him too.”
“But his mouth and vocabulary are way filthier than mine!” I yank on my restraints, unraveling as the tip of metal grazes my lips. I don’t even care that I’m trying to sell him out. My body is a lightning storm of bruises and burst blood vessels.That thing is not prying my mouth open!
“I’m flattered,” Niklaus says with a bored expression. “But I think everyone agrees you take the cake, Sa—Audrina.”
