My feet guide me further into the room, treading slow circles around him like a lion herding its prey into a kill zone.
When I step close to his side, the chains rattle as he tries to shift, head twisting over his outraised arm to see what I’m doing.
I come to a stop behind him, letting the tip of my knife rest against his shoulder blade. The skin is thin, seeing as he’s lost weight from captivity, and a trickle of red runs down his pale skin when I apply pressure.
“We’re going to play a little game, Conrad,” I whisper close to his ear, making him flinch as he fights to get his eyes on me. “There’s only one outcome.”
“Stupid bitch,” he grits out, yanking on the chains again, letting out a whimper when the metal bites into the cuffs that have his skin raw. Saint has them coated in a toxin, and the infection on them has the skin swollen and angry; each time Conrad moves will cause him pain.
I make my way around, making sure the serrated knife carves a line along his back, causing him to hiss out in pain.
When I stand in front of him, he drops his head to his chest, and I place the blood-covered knife under his chin, tipping it upwards. “Theres also only one rule. Want to know what it is?”
To my surprise, he laughs, baring his cracked teeth. “You and your fucking psycho of a dog sure know how to play your theatrics.”
“You just have to answer one question.”
He dips his brows, normally confident voice cracking with the lack of water he gets. “And what is that?”
“Why did you want me to join?”
My jaw fights the grind when his smile grows. And he has the audacity to call Saint a psycho. This man has clearly spent too much time in his own world if he can’t see exactly who he is. “Barry didn’t tell you?”
I huff a laugh. “Nah, there wasn’t much room for conversation with him. It’s kind of hard when your skull detaches from your spine to form words. Morgan? Well, I’m sure Saint ripped out his voice box after I gutted him from balls to breastbone. He kinda stopped speaking after that.”
The smugness falters on him for a beat, and then I watch as the side of his neck tenses, red seeping over his cheeks. “Shame, guess that dies with him.”
His scream makes my ears prick back when I ram the knife just above his knee. “That’s one. I’ve got plenty more. Once I run out, I’ll pull them out and start again.”
Conrad’s chest expands as his shaky glare focuses on the knife impaled in his flesh. That will be a fucker to get out with the serrated edges.
He doesn’t answer me, so I slide the other out of its holder beneath my hoodie, sticking in his opposite leg.
“FUCK!”
I stifle a yawn, dragging a seat from the corner, letting its feet screech along the concrete, sitting myself down on it to face him. One thing Saint taught me was that silence was golden.
When the question is directed to your captive, you holding out causes them to get uncomfortable.
And I seem to be very fucking comfortable right now.
“You fucking Kent women don’t even deserve what we had planned.”
I roll my eyes, despite the bite my heart feels, crossing one leg over the other and folding my arms along my chest.
That pisses him off as he watches me with narrowed eyes. “You didn’t deserve to bear my name. Your sister wasn’t worthy of what we built.”
That…hits my nerve. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
I’m up on my feet, wide eyes filling with wrath as I whip another knife out, and it edges Conrad on. “You two were supposed to create a new blood line, a new era, as Barry pitched it.”
He laughs, weakly shaking his head. “Get these two dumb bitches at a position of power, make them think they’re doing a good job, then breed our name out. A new type of pedigree, and Kingstone would fully be ours.”
My stomach rolls, and I have to snap my gaze away from him before the flashbacks sneak in and ruin my performance.
“That’s right,” he taunts, “our night together would have been a taste of the rest of your life. And I was going to remind you of it in the tunnel. In fact, we both were.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I bark, my heart racing as I take a step backwards.
