Hellfire’s chains snap. His arms drop down with a sound that drowns under their screams.
Then I take the bolt cutters and snap off Scar’s chains, too.
A few seconds after their arms are free, the screams change.
Sharpen.
Breaking into something raw. And blood curdling.
Because now they can feel it. All of it.
Their ruined limbs. Their nerves screaming alive.
I remember the burn. The pins and needles. The agony of blood rushing back into the arms that had gone dead.
That was only hours of being chained.
They’ve had a week.
I watch them thrash. Watch them choke on their own voices. I feel nothing except the hollow, transient satisfaction.
I turn away first, unwilling to dwell on it. Hound follows. Healer right behind him. Dad lingers just a second longer, staring down at Hellfire with something unreadable—then he turns too.
We leave them like that—screaming. Thrashing wildly. Burning alive in their own bodies.
But it still doesn’t feel like the vengeance I thought it’d be.
FORTY-NINE
Charlotte
That was a girlfriend thing, wasn’t it?
Shit. It was.
I can barely believe I sent the prospect out with a bunch of pills and strict instructions. It wasn’t something I’d planned.
I simply remembered his pinched expression when he pulled himself off me—reluctantly. How his face kept twisting with pain before quickly sobering, as his hand involuntarily braced against his torso.
God, I couldn’t get that out of my head.
Couldn’t gethimout of it either.
I’m pacing my living room—in the middle of berating myself—when I finally force myself to stop dwelling on it.
Following through a brilliant idea swimming in my head, I make quick work of my clothes and head out—practically fleeing from my room. Desperate for some distraction.
The main hall will have enough stuff to take my mind off it, right? Enough people and chaos to drown him out.
I won’t still be thinking of Theo’s drugging kisses if I’m chatting with—say Misty.
My nipple won’t constantly feel the phantom brush of Theo’s fingers if I’m staring at Pearl and DeeDee’s boobs instead. Right?
Oh God,why did my brain go there?
Has he touched them like that? Been with them?
The thought hits sharp and ugly—a paralyzing shiver of jealousy slicing through me before I can stop it.
