Searing pain spreads from my shoulders and extends through my entire body, the type of which I’ve never felt before. My arms are tied behind my back and slung over a wood beam that’s been placed in the middle of the courtyard. Occasionally, a guard walks over and pulls, forcing my body to rise off the ground by mere inches.
But I won’t give them the satisfaction of screaming.
I was woken in the rudest way. With a cloth full of chloroform and half a dozen guards.
And now they’ve taken to strappado. A form of torture that’s Edward’s personal favorite. It gives him a thrill to watch the agony spread across his victim’s faces as their shoulders become dislocated and their limbs slowly tear from their bodies. Part of me wonders if this is his doing. If he’s finally betrayed me and is seeking his revenge for the just punishment he reaped at my hands.
But he’s nowhere to be found.
It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except for the fear that courses through my insides at the thought of Michael having Sara.
They can kill me. They can torture me for hours and I’ll sacrifice myself gladly, so long as I know she’s safe.
I’m not sure how long has passed, only that the sun has set, the full moon casting an eerie glow, the chilly nighttime air sticking to my clammy, bruised up skin and a bonfire raging only a few feet away.
It’s cocky of Michael to place me here, but my brother loves to put on a good show.
My head is pounding and blood drips from cuts in my torso where I was kicked and dragged by the guards, but I have long since leaned into the pain, letting it become part of me until I’m numb. After a lifetime of being beaten black and blue, physical pain loses its edge.
“Surprise,” my brother’s voice booms, sparking an ember in the center of my gut.
“Brother,” I force out through the dryness of my mouth and the throbbing ache in my shoulders. “So nice of you to show.”
He laughs, a deep chuckle straight from his belly, and when I lift my head, the ember ignites into an inferno, scorching through every part of me. Sara is with him, her hands cuffed behind her and her dress torn on the side. But she’s alive.
Her gaze is unfocused, and her cheek is black and blue.
I have hated my brother for many things, but it isn’t until right now, this moment, that pure and absolute loathing pours into my veins.
“Surprised?” Michael grins wide. “I thought you two would want to be reunited. One last time.”
I grit my teeth, my eyes never leaving Sara’s. Her movements are sluggish and jilted, but when her gaze locks onto mine, energy wraps around the beating organ in my chest, and shocks it into a faster rhythm. I’m sure I will meet my death. And I will welcome it with open arms, as soon as I make sure Sara won’t have the same fate.
What good is a world without her in it?
“You’ve always been a gracious host,” I snark.
His grin drops, turning into a sneer, his amber gaze narrowed as he drops Sara to the ground and walks toward me, not stopping until I can see the black specks in his eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”
I smile. “You could always kill me, maybe turn me into a trophy to place in your room.”
He tsks, walking to the side and grabbing something from the guard’s hands before walking back over. When he arrives, I realize it’s a fire poker, the same type he used to give me the scar that became my namesake, only now, the end is bright orange from sitting in the open flame.
My insides tense.
“Maybe I’ll flay the skin from your bones,” Michael spits, holding up the poker and watching as it glows. “Use you as a rug in my bedroom so even in death you never forget your place.”
“Oh, brother.” I grin. “We both know that even in death, I’ll haunt you. Just like our father does.”
His eyes rage and his hand jabs forward, the hot brand searing into my chest, directly over the hyena tattoo, the smell of burning flesh curling into the air as I bite down on my tongue so hard that blood floods my mouth.
“Tristan,” Sara cries out from where she’s still sprawled on the ground, although her voice is muddled.
“I should have known it was you. Running to gather the rest of the freaks to band behind you.” Michael laughs. “What did you think, that you would rule Gloria Terra? That you would kill me?!” His voice rises, manic in its high pitch and tone.
Finally, he removes the metal from my skin, the burn so powerful it makes my eyes blur from the pain.
He steps in close, the fire poker hanging at his side. Leaning in, he rests his forehead against mine. “Blood of my blood, you have done so much to bring shame to our name. When I rid you from this earth, the angels will sing in Heaven, and our ancestors will cheer with joy.”
My chest pulls tight, knowing that he’s won, and there’s nothing to be done for it.
It’s over.
“I’m going to leave you here to think about what you’ve done,” he whispers. “And I want you to know that while my guards are prodding and poking until the rest of your skin is as scarred as your face, I’ll be ripping your lying slut of a woman apart piece by piece.”
“When I am free of this,” I say, swallowing around the scratch in my throat. “I will kill you for touching her.”
Michael cackles, throwing his head back, his hand resting on his chest. “Oh, brother. I’m not going to touch her. I’m going to fill every hole until it gapes and tears, until my seed seeps from the bleeding wounds I’ve created in her tight little body. I’m going to erase your existence within her and replace it with my own, right before I cut out her heart and feed it to you for dinner.” He presses the poker against my other side now.
And this time, I do let out a scream. A guttural roar, promising violence, and reeking of pain, my chest exploding until the rage floods through my body like water rushing from a broken dam.
“And then I’ll kill you too, and we’ll go on here in Gloria Terra, as if you never existed at all.” He blows the tips of his fingers and pops them open. “Poof. Just like that.”
My eyes roam the grass until they fall on Sara’s form. She’s unconscious now, and my heart falters. “Sara,” I rasp, although my entire body burns from the word. “Sara!” I yell louder, desperate for her to move, for her to show me she still breathes. But she doesn’t.
She lies there instead.
“Maybe if you pray hard enough, brother, they’ll reunite you two in the afterlife.”
Michael smiles and then passes the poker off to a guard on his right. “Stick him every hour until he begs for death.”
