The guard at the door frowns disappointedly, lines deepening in his forehead as he unclasps a coil from his belt and hands it to Ambrose.
"I'm happy to do it, sir," he offers as the long piece of tightly woven leather uncoils.
Ambrose shakes his head, taking the whip. "This time it's personal, Jared. And I'm developing a taste for it, I think."
The guard's jaw twitches with clear disappointment as he nods to his commander, and I commit his face and name to memory because it sounds like this is the walking corpse who hurt my Elijah.
He has brown eyes and a scar on his right brow. When he catches me staring at him, I don't blink.
"On your knees," Ambrose says, giving the whip a tentative flick against the tile.
Despite trying not to, I flinch at the sharpsnap,and my stomach sours.
"Make sure you get this," Ambrose says, moving into place behind me as his men drag me to the center of the floor.
I don't understand what he means until the doorman comes to stand to my right and I catch the tiny red light glowing in the center of his vest. A bodycam.
"A little to the left," Ambrose says. "Make sure I'm not in the frame."
The guard shifts and I gasp as the back of my shirt is torn down the middle and thrown open, exposing my back to Ambrose as he twirls the whip against the tile.
Anticipation pricks at every nerve ending, but I clench my jaw as tight as I can and I close my eyes.
There's only one reason he would film this, and I willnotgive him a single scream to send to them.
I will not cry. I will not beg.
I will give himnothing.
Not a single sound he can use to break the men I love.
And then, somehow, someday, I will feel the grip of that whip in my palm, and there will be no mercy when I carve a line into his flesh for every line he carved into Elijah. And into me.
"Do it!" I shout. "Do it, you pathetic fucking coward!"
The first lash hits, and it's like lightning and fire in my blood. A symphony of hurt vibrating in my bones and rattling my teeth.
But knowing Seven, Elijah, and Atticus could be forced to see this, I clench my teeth and choke back a whimper. I picture them alive. Back home with Ellie and Céline and Julian. Whole and safe.
I know they'll fight to find me, and I need to fight just as hard to get back to them.
When the second lash strikes, I squeeze my eyes shut and vow that I will not make a fucking sound.
64
WHAT IT COST
ELIJAH
24 HOURS MISSING
Ihuck a little stone into the pond and pull my jacket tighter against the chill in the evening air.
"It's been half an hour," I grumble. "Where is he?"
"She said he wasn't doing so well yesterday," Atticus replies in a gruff monotone. "Give them a few more minutes."
Atticus throws a stick for Ellie, but there's no joy in it for either of them as she trots to retrieve it and brings it back. But instead of waiting for him to throw it again, she comes to me as I sit on the crop of flat stone by the pond.
