“Stop?” he echoed. “Why would I stop now? I only have fifteen minutes.” He seized her by the hair, wrenching her head back aggressively, forcing her to lock eyes with him. “Guess I should really make this worthwhile, wouldn’t you say?”
Elora’s vision swam with tears, a cold realization sinking in as she looked into his eyes and saw no hesitation, only the twisted satisfaction of someone who’d been pushed past their breaking point. She knew he wasn’t here to hurt her out of some fleeting impulse. He was here to enact the pain he’d carried for years, to make her suffer in ways she’d never imagined.
Tehvan. Please, where are you?Her mind clung to the thought, waiting—hoping—for the door to fly open, for that familiar voice to stop this.
Her breath came in ragged, shallow bursts as Symond tightened his cruel grip on her hair, wrenching her head back so sharply that her neck protested against the strain. Pain sliced through her scalp, and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she fought to keep her expression defiant. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble tonight.
“Look at you,” Symond muttered, his face inches from hers. He scrutinized her, seeking a trace of the poise she’d once displayed. “You are always so sure of yourself, aren’t you? So confident that Tehvan will protect you, that you’d never have to face the consequences.”
Elora clamped her eyelids shut, a desperate attempt to shut out his venomous words and his stifling presence. But his words were relentless, tearing through her. He released his grip on her hair and seized her shoulders, thrusting her back against the headboard with such force that the world around her dissolved into a blinding, white-hot haze.
“Symond, please,” she choked out, the plea barely audible. “I didn’t know—”
He chuckled, a biting, joyless sound. “Didn’t know? Of course, you didn’t. You never had to know.” His hand shot out again, this time wrapping around her throat, squeezing just hard enough to make her gasp. “But you’re going to.”
Symond leaned in, and the harsh mix of smoke and iron filled her nose, the unmistakable remnants of the forge clinging to his skin. Beneath that was something earthy, almost like rain-soaked stone, mingling with the faint tang of sweat. She didn’t want to be so close to him, close enough to trap her in the suffocating cloud around him, making it even harder to breathe in the little amount of air that she could.
“Are you going to beg me to stop?” he whispered, as if he’d actually consider it. “Go ahead. Beg, and maybe I’ll show you some mercy. The same mercy you showed me all those years.”
Elora’s lungs screamed, struggling against the vise of his hand. Every instinct urged her to speak, to appeal to whatever reason might lie beneath his rage, but the heat of his fury blazed in his eyes, making it clear; logic had no place here. Her silence only seemed to fuel the fire of his wrath. He yanked her off the bed, his grip fierce as he pulled her to her feet, forcefully shoving her against the cold wall.
Her head jolted on stone, a sharp pang shooting through her skull as she stifled a cry of agony.
“You don’t get to pretend you’re better than this, that you’re above it. You’re the reason I’m like this. You’re the reason I’ve suffered every day.”
Elora’s knees threatened to give way, but he was there, bracing her with the solid weight of his body. Her hands clawed at his chest in a weak attempt to push him away but she didn’t have the strength. He was an immovable object; even if her head wasn’t spinning from the blow, she still wouldn’t stand a chance. Her vision blurred as she fought to cling to consciousness, each effort a monumental task.
She steeled herself to hold his gaze, despite the way her vision began to waver, dark tendrils creeping inward from the edges. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking this is justice. You’re becoming just likehim.”
She searched his eyes for the boy–the friend–he used to be. The curious soul who encouraged her to explore and test the boundaries of the Institute. Who he was before whatever happened to him warped him into this hardened specter of resentment, a man who’s every movement seemed driven by pain and anger. For a second, shethought she saw a spark of humanity within him but just as quickly, that moment fled, replaced by a steely mask of rage.
“How would you even know?” He didn’t wait for a response. He backhanded her, the force sending a sharper pain through her cheek. Her head jerked to the side, a rush of warmth blossomed on her skin as the taste of iron flooded her mouth, again. The room tilted dangerously, the walls blurring around her, and she slid down onto the grimy wooden floor.
This isn’t supposed to happen.Tehvan always kept her safe. Someone would stop this—he would stop this.
He turned away from her, his boot striking the floor like a countdown to whatever he was planning next. He exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his golden hair, gripping at the roots before releasing. Every inch of him coiled with the restrained violence of a predator preparing to tackle its prey: shoulders rigid, breath measured, fingers curling and uncurling.
“Symond,” she wheezed. “Please, just leave.”
Something in him snapped. He went still. Too still. His expression twisted, lips curling back in something between a sneer and a smirk, but his eyes… his eyes were wildfire.
The way he looked at her then sent a chill crawling down her spine. Like she had just confirmed something for him. Like he had been waiting for her to say those words.
He moved. Fast. Brutal. Lunging forward, he yanked her up off the ground with bone-jarring force. She gasped, her body tensing, locking into place, preparing for whatever he was about to do.
His grip cut off her circulation, and then he hurled her onto Arria’s empty bed. Elora landed hard, the thin padding beneath her doing little to soften the impact as she rolled, slamming into the wall. She curled into herself, arms clasped tightly to her knees, trying toshield her body from his next attack.Just hold on,she told herself, as the seconds stretched out like hours.
Symond was on her in an instant, his fingers curling around her ankles. He dragged her roughly across the bed, the sheets rustling beneath her body.No, no, no,the word screamed through her mind, sharp and frantic, but her limbs felt weak, useless; her attempts to twist free accomplished nothing. She gasped as he pulled her to the edge of the mattress, her legs teetering perilously over the side, her feet grazing the chill of the wooden floor beneath.
The weight of his body pressing against her back was suffocating, a cruel, inescapable force. She tried to push herself up, but his grip was already there, pinning her effortlessly. His hand twisted into her hair, the sharp, tearing pain in her scalp making her whimper. He twisted her head and back, forcing her to gaze up at him. Leaning closer, his face hovered near hers, and she found herself frozen by his hazel eyes. They glimmered with a perverse, unsettling satisfaction that coiled in her stomach.
Just a little longer,she told herself desperately.The fifteen minutes must almost be up.
His fingers pressed against her lips, forcing them apart slowly, savoring every second. He wasn’t even going to let her think she had a choice. He hooked his fingers around her bottom teeth, prying her mouth open. The briny taste of salt mingled with the sourness of his sweat, a nauseating blend that overwhelmed her senses. She squirmed instinctively, a pathetic, useless motion that did nothing to loosen his grip. He barely even had to try to keep her pinned. Her strength meant nothing. He had her utterly at his mercy.
Tehvan’s not coming. No one’s coming.
“You deserve this,” he growled. “Every second of it. You took years from me. I’m just giving you a taste of what that felt like.” Hiswords still hung in the air when he spat, a thick, gelatinous glob of saliva that landed in her mouth with a sickening splatter. It was warm, sickly sweet, and carried a faint metallic tang, the texture slimy as it pooled on her tongue and oozed toward the back of her mouth. She gagged, her body convulsing but the sensation only spread, clinging to her throat like some vile parasite.
