From the Kingsley ranks came a ripple of snickers. The enmity between the house leaders trickled down, turning every student bearing Ravencrux colors into a target.
“It’s all right, Nero,” I said, forcing strength into my voice. “I will watch. And I will remember. I won’t forget who is owed a debt.”
“Now she shows some fire,” Kingsley tsked. “Surprise.”
“One day, you will pay for this,” Nero vowed, the words a violent rumble.
Then Dante and Orren appeared, positioning themselves on either side of me like walls of protection. Their presence grounded me, even as nauseating dread remained lodged in my stomach. The four of us—me, Dante, Orren, and Nero—fixed our burning hatred upon Kingsley.
If only my loathing could strike him dead where he stood.
When our enemy’s piercing gaze fixed on me, I did not waver. I did not cower, though he was formidable and I was nothing—a new student caught in their games. One day, I would get him. And if I was not mistaken, for a flickering second, he flinched.
Kingsley raised the whip.
It fell across Nero’s back with a crack like thunder. In any other hands, the whip would be brutal—but wielded by Kingsley, with all his power behind it, the effect was horrific.
When the lash lifted, strips of flesh came with it. Blood streamed down Nero’s skin in rivulets, pooling at his feet. Shredded tissue clung to the barbs, dangling like grotesque trophies.
A sob caught in my throat. My body was frail, but in that moment, I would have taken his place. Why had he volunteered? I could have endured it. I could have found another way. Now he was tormented because of me.
Another lash split the air, painting his back like a bloody canvas. The iron barbs tore deeper, biting into muscle. Nero didn’t make a sound. His jaw was clenched so tightly the muscle leapt, but he refused to give Kingsley the satisfaction of a scream.
I trembled until my teeth chattered. Orren’s hand closed around mine, pumping silent courage into my veins. I straightened my spine.
When the third lash landed, I glimpsed bone through the ravaged flesh—white flashing beneath the red. My stomach turned violently.
“Stop!” I screamed. “I’ll leave! Banish me, erase my memory, do whatever you want! I swear I’ll never see him again. Just fucking stop!”
The whip continued to fall, relentless.
“Four. Five…” someone counted from the crowd, their voice flat.
“I said stop, you goddamned motherfucker!” I screamed and charged toward Kingsley. I didn’t care if he killed me. I wanted to destroy him, to tear him apart with my bare hands.
Dante shot out an arm and dragged me back. Orren locked his arms around me as well. I struggled with everything I had, but they were too strong.
Kingsley laughed. “This is better than I’d hoped.”
“Six. Seven. Eight…”
The whip slashed across Nero’s back again and again, the wet, shredding sound sickening. The smell of blood thickened the air, metallic and heavy. Each strike opened fresh wounds, tore deeper into already ruined flesh. And it was draining him; his skin grew paler, his body sagging further with every blow.
“Leave him alone, please!” I cried, my voice breaking.
“Shhh,” Dante murmured, holding me tight to keep me standing. “It will be over soon.”
“He’ll survive,” Orren added in a strained, furious voice. “He won’t break. He never breaks. He’s endured worse. Morrigan will heal him after.”
Nothing could be worse than this.
The crowd watched, transfixed. A few looked away, faces pale or hands pressed to mouths. But most of the supernatural spectators wore expressions of stark fascination, eyes wide andhungry. They had never imagined witnessing an immortal of his power being publicly broken. This was their entertainment.
Nero held his head high as the whip fell again, showing them all who truly held power here, even chained and bleeding, even with Kingsley wielding the whip with such killing intent.
“Eighteen, nineteen…” The count continued, each number another wound carved into his body.
Another lash fell brutally across his shoulders, catching the edge of the tattoo—my own face in blood and ink, rendered unrecognizable. He swayed, his knees buckling, but the chains hauled him upright, forcing him to endure.
