Despite everything she was a part of, there was still a shred of humanity left in her. It was why she’d put her own life on the line to try to warn them. Which made no sense considering he was there now and she hadn't spoken a single word to him. She hadn’t asked for mercy, offered intel in exchange for her life, or reminded him she’d turned on her boss. All she’d done was just spout out some random facts and then try to find out how she could please him.
With her top now split from top to bottom, gaping open to reveal a set of small but perfect breasts, he pressed the tip of his knife into her belly button. “He likes playing God, doesn’t he? Creating life. Only he thinks his own creations are abominations. Monsters. Animals, I think he told his sister we were. But you know all of that, after all, you chose to work for him, right?”
A small whimper emanated from his pretty little captive. She didn't like being reminded that she worked for a man who had so little regard for human life. But at least he could take that as affirmation she was indeed one of Dr. Gardner’s employees and not just the man’s daughter, or some other innocent caught up in the whole mess.
Not that he’d ever really thought that was the case. If she weren't involved, she would have come clean with him about how she was connected to the man as soon as he dragged her from her bed.
It was her own guilt that kept her silent.
Moving to stand behind her, Blade reached up and grabbed the end of the left sleeve of her ruined T-shirt, dragged his knife through the thin material, and then repeated the process with the right sleeve.
Ripping the clothing from her body, he was about to start cutting through her pajama bottoms, about to taunt her about other ways to create life, possibly imply he might be down with raping her—not something that was on the table, he had his limits and that was one he wouldn't cross, not that she knew that—when he froze.
Hell … her back.
The entire thing looked like someone had branded it, not just once but over and over again. Starting up near her left shoulder blade, there were those little bundles of five lines people did when marking things off, four lines side by side, then one crossing over them, tally marks. There were five lots of those marks in a row, and then five rows beneath, for a total of six rows, then beneath the sixth was a seventh that had two complete bundles of five and one with two lines.
Those last two marks were bright red as though they had been recently inflicted.
Someone had used this woman’s back as some sort of sick tally board.
Who the hell would do that to her?
Running the pad of a finger over the bumpy marks, he knew enough about different ways to torture people to know that these were brands. Someone had seared this woman’s flesh repeatedly. But why? What did the marks mean? And why the hell hadn't she told him that she hadn't just worked for Dr. Gardner, she’d been tortured by him?
“What do they mean?” he growled as his finger circled the newer, redder lines, but didn’t brush over them since he wasn't sure if they were still painful.
Instead of answering, she just whimpered, and once again Blade felt his control snap.
Closing a hand around her throat, he pressed up against her until her back was plastered across his chest. “You better tell me what the hell is going on, who burned your back like you're some kind of scorecard, why you broke rank to try to warn me and my team, and what your involvement is, or I'm going to make what was done to your back feel like a massage in comparison to what I'm going to do to you.”
January 11th
5:17 P.M.
“I'm the one who created the drug, so I have to bear the marks of each person who didn't survive the treatment,” Whitney shrieked, terrified of what this man would do to her if she didn't tell him what he wanted to hear.
She barely survived the burning pain in her back each time one of the test subjects didn't live through the process. The smell of burning flesh as she was branded, knowing it was her own burning flesh, made her throw up every single time.
There was no chance she could survive worse than that.
Like she’d destroyed whatever control Blade had left with a single sentence, the hand around her neck tightened until she could no longer draw in any air. The knife, which had tormented her and then cut her top from her body, was suddenly poised on her chest above her heart. While he didn't push it into her flesh deep enough to cause her any serious injury, he did allow it to dig into her skin, and she felt the trickle of blood trail down herstomach, the liquid icy cold in stark contrast to her suddenly overheated skin.
“You? You did this to us?” He snarled, his breath hot against her ear.
Was she supposed to reconfirm what she’d just said?
Backtrack and pretend he’d misheard her?
He hadn't given her a clear indication of what he expected of her, so she wasn't sure what to do. Whitney didn't know how to exist in any scenario that didn't have explicit guidelines. She’d been groomed and trained to be the perfect little scientist, she lived in order, under the strict control of others. There was no room for her to make her own choices or have her own opinion, which was why Blade would never understand the courage it had taken her to plan herself an out.
An out that had failed pretty spectacularly, given her current situation.
“It’s all because of you.” That hand tightened further, and on instinct her body began to buck as her lungs screamed for air.
Only there was no air for them.
Just a rough hand slowly killing her as the knife dug deeper into her skin.
