Page 70 of Queen of Wrath

I pried his hand away but made sure to speak in a lower voice this time. “That agent I'm working for from the Bureau of Potion Regulations? She just sent out a distress signal using this tracking device. Or rather, I just noticed it…” I held up the translucent little stone—still blinking lavender—for him to see. “I think she might be in some kind of danger, and I need to find her.”

Diesel must’ve found out about her. What else can it be?

Without hesitation, Zane nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Zane. You have a wife and children to think of. Go home and be with them. Besides, you’ve done more than enough for me.” I turned away from him, preparing to leave.

“Lea!” He tried to reach out for me, but I snatched my arm away before he could touch me.

“That’s not my name anymore…” I couldn’t stand the heartbroken look on his face, so I turned my back on him as I insisted, “Please, Zane. If you really want to help me, then let’s go back to being strangers.”

There was nothing but the wind and the silent dead to accompany me through the cemetery. It wasn’t how I’d wanted to leave things, but there was no other way.

Stunned and at a loss, Zane remained standing by my family’s graves as I walked away.

I forced myself to not even throw a quick glance over my shoulder.

There was no looking back anymore.

28

ROWAN

“All you have to do is give me some useful information, and it'll all be over.” Diesel huffed out a heavy breath. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

He drizzled an acidic potion down Rowan’s spine, and she screamed in agony.

Her voice filled the dungeon, echoing off the stone walls surrounding her.

Her body was done for. She was so very exhausted, that she didn’t know how it was still even possible for her to feel any pain anymore. “I don't know what you're talking about…”

“Stop lying to me, Agent Lexie. I know you've been on my trail for years, which I ignored because you had no evidence to convict me, but now all of a sudden, my potion operations are backfiring? I’d say that’s no coincidence.” Diesel grabbed a chunk of Rowan's hair and pulled her head back. “Now tell me, who do you have working for you on the inside? Tell me who it is, and I might even let you live.”

Rowan grunted, but swallowed the pain, showing him an unwavering glare. “You think you can break me? It won't work. You'll just have to kill me.”

“Now where is the fun in that?” he scoffed, throwing her head forward as he released his grip on her hair. “I'll leave you to stew in your wounds. Perhaps you'll be more pliable when you're on the verge of death.”

Diesel disappeared into the dark shadows, leaving Rowan alone in the dungeon.

Rowan's whole body relaxed, allowing the pain to take over fully. She let out a little sob before catching herself. She knew she couldn't afford to break down now. She’d been here for days, and no one had noticed. Or they had noticed but couldn’t find her, or even do anything about it.

I'm going to have to find a way to escape myself. I don’t know if I can hold on for much longer… I'm at my breaking point.

Rowan was dipping in and out of consciousness, struggling to stay awake, but she could still hear footsteps approaching. “Back already? Don't tell me you missed me,” she laughed weakly, but fell silent when she noticed it wasn't Diesel standing before her. “O—Omara Ransom…”

She was shaking like a leaf, staring in horror at the tortured woman before her. Her hands slowly came up over her mouth as tears rolled down her cheeks. “What's happened? What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like? Your doting husband has had me down here for days, torturing me for information I don't have.”

Rowan closed her eyes, shaking her head in disappointment. Of all the people to discover her, this naive, frightened woman certainly wasn't going to be her way out of this.

Omara had been complacent with Diesel's actions for years now. Rowan knew she would be foolish to think that Omara could suddenly grow a backbone.

“My husband is doing this to you?” She struggled to speak as if she couldn't catch her breath. She tumbled forward, grabbed onto the wall, and dragged her nails down the stone there, gasping and sobbing. “I can't—I can't breathe!”

My head snapped up as I realized she was busy hyperventilating, and likely about to pass out.

“Omara, listen to me. Raise your head and look at me.” My tone was soft yet commanding. So much so that she couldn't help but listen.

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