Everyone does.
Nothing comes back from down there.
Chapter 28
Ryven
It’s been seventy-two hours since we locked Jerod in the basement. I only just learned his name. He’s pissed himself more than once—and we haven’t laid a finger on him.
I run my metal rod along the bars of the cage, making a show of the act for the four silent onlookers on the back wall. They wan’t to see me be the monster they believe I’ve turned into. Jarod scoots closer to the back corner in a small ball.
“Doesn’t matter how small you curl, Jerod,” I mock. “Your time’s still coming.”
He frantically shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
I tsk. Even though I know he did nothing wrong. “Well, you came home without your partner. Which means you left him behind.”
“But I didn’t kill him!”
“Doesn’t matter! You left him. Dead or alive, you bring your people home!” I bang the pipe along the metal bars for emphasis.
Another puddle spreads beneath him and regret forms in my chest. I did this. I let this happen and now to keep Rory safe, I’m going to let this man fall for it. “I’m sorry! I panicked!”
“Will you get it together? Stop pissing on yourself already!” My stomach twists. I’m yelling to sell the act.I hate this. I hate every fucking part of this.
The basement door slams shut behind me and Jarod begins to shake. I turn just as Cedric walks over to the table in the center of the room and lays a satchel onto it. One by one, he pulls out different tools and puts them in front of him.
“What are your plans?” I try to swallow the lump that’s begun forming in my throat. Nothing good happens when he brings his tools down here.
Cedric chuckles but doesn’t look over at Jerod. “Not me, my boy. You.”
I jolt and tilt my head. This isn’t about Jerod. This is about me proving something. “And what might that be?”
He offers me a pair of pruning shears. “Cut off a finger.” He says it so casually. Like I’m going to prune a plant or something that’s not living. He doesn’t see Jerod for what he is–human.
I nod and grip the shears. A little tighter then I mean to. When I look over my shoulder, Jerod is trembling. His hands are clutched under him and he’s shaking his head.
Knowing I’m being watched by everyone in here, I walk over to his cage and tap the shears on the bars. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
He shakes his head and pulls his hands closer to his body.
I let out an exasperated sigh, trying to hide the weight of how heavy my chest feels right now. “I guess we’ll be doing it the hard way.”
I pocket the shears and unlock his cage, then inch inside to yank him by whatever I can reach. It just so happens to be his pant leg, and I tug him toward the front. He kicks and curses, but I don’t flinch. He should feel lucky Cedric is only ordering for one finger to be cut off. He could lose his life right now, and Cedric wouldn’t bat an eye.
“Stop being an idiot!” I yell as he kicks my knuckles, forcing out a hiss from my lips.
I dig inside one last time, snatching him free of the cage and then sit on him to hold him in place. He bucks, screams, and hits as hard as he can, but it still doesn’t slow me.
Finally, I grab him by the throat and squeeze until he calms. “Want to lose the whole hand, or are you going to be smart and offer a finger?”
He contemplates my words for a moment and then his body relaxes. “Just the finger, please.” His voice breaks on the wordplease.
I tap his face. “Good boy.” I draw the shears, my hand trembling slightly as I line up his finger—and press before he can change his mind.
His screams echo throughout the basement as the pain takes over. I rise off of him and let him roll into the fetal position, holding his injured hand close to him.
Marching over to the table, I remove a white rag from the bag and toss it over to him. “Wrap it. You don’t want it to get infected.”
