“You’re looking pale, Bri,” he coos, brushing sweat-matted hair off my forehead, then gripping my breast, kneading it hard until I sob. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to erase all of you. Just the parts that don’t worship me.”
His fingers trail down my tear-stricken cheek, cruel and possessive. “The parts that still lovethem.”
I clench my fists, rattling the cuffs, the cold metal biting into my wrists.
“All that devotion to your sick monsters,” he hisses. “So pathetic. They’re not gods. They’re broken men, wanted felons. But I’m going to help you forget them.” He unzips his pants, freeing his raging erection. “Shock by shock. Thrust by thrust. Until the only name you remember is mine. Until you curse them for the demons they are.”
He leans in, the stink of power and sweat and blood filling my lungs. “And then I’ll bring you to death. And fuck the empty shell left behind.”
The words slam into me like a battering ram. But inside me, something sharp and molten refuses to die. I force a smile through cracked lips. “You’re a coward.”
His face twitches. “What?”
“A weak, scared, little coward. You should be. You feel it, don’t you? That tremor in your gut. That little voice screaming run.” I let my head fall back against the headrest, breathing frantic, but smiling like I already won. “They’re coming for me. The damned are coming. And they’ll damnyouto the void.”
His eye twitches again. Just for a moment. Just enough. “I’ll kill them all,” he snarls.
“No,” I whisper, trembling but defiant. “They’ll burn you. And I’ll dance in your ashes.”
He leers down at me. “I’ll kill you first. No matter what, I win. They lose.”
He grabs the mouthpiece and jams it between my teeth, his rage barely contained. But I don’t stop staring at him.
Even as he straps it in place.
Even as the machine crackles.
Even as the sparks begin to dance from the wires.
My last thoughts aren’t fear.
They’re fire. Their faces. Their names.
Raphael. Jude. Vincent. Rory. Seth.
Come get me.
Pain. crackles through my skull like a lightning bolt from the gods.
The shock detonates behind my eyes, a sharp, electrical scream that blinds me in white. My spine bows, muscles seizing, teeth grinding against the rubber mouthpiece.
It’s not painful like a cut. It’s pain thatconsumes. Burning electric shocks hijack my system.
I lose control until urine leaks down my thighs. I sob around the gag. My dignity dies on the altar of his madness. Nerves frylike wires bursting into flame. My limbs shake uncontrollably. The restraints bite into my skin, but none of it matters.
Because I remember.
The arrowhead. Hidden in my braid. Twisted into the knot above my nape.
Fuck the pain.
I wrench my wrist. Dislocating it. The joint pops with a sickening snap. Agony roars up my arm. I scream behind the mouthpiece—but it works. The bone slips. The hand slides through the cuff, torn raw.
My fingers scramble into my hair. I grab the cold metal,
And I fuckingstab.
The arrowhead sinks into the side of his neck. Not enough to kill him. Not the artery. But bloodspurts. He staggers back, gasping, hand flying to the wound.
