Page 50 of Sin and Salvation

I had no love at all for Rastus anymore. Even if I had to watch his fingernails be torn out, I wouldn’t shed a tear for him.

And I too wanted to know what Maxime was planning. What he was doing, right at this moment.

Was he pacing his high-rise, face red, throwing things at his assistants?

Or was he in a cold rage, acting normal while plotting how best to kill everyone around me?

The problem was, I feared hecouldpull it off. Maxime was nothing if not determined to have everything go his way.

Crow squeezed me tightly, seeming to sense the anxiety rolling off me in waves. Zane took off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders; I was infinitely grateful for the gesture as the elevator doors opened and a gust of cold air blew in.

The basement smelled musty, like all basements, but there was a tinge beneath it that made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up.

Bleach, and the faintest coppery tang of old blood.

We stepped out into an open, low-ceilinged space. Everything was the flat gray of concrete; support pillars blocked my view of most of the room, which was full of nothing but crates. I had a feeling I knew exactly what they contained as the trio led me past to an iron door set in the far wall.

The room inside the door was much smaller. My gaze landed first on several drains in the floor, then rose to the rusty gurney laid out with pristine, gleaming tools, and finally settled on the chair in the middle of the room.

Rastus sat in it, his head lolling. Brody had worked fast; my brother’s ankles were chained to the chair legs, and his hands bound behind the chair. His eyes flickered as Brody dumped a bucket of ice water over him.

“Whuhhh…” He let out a groan, blinking water out of his lashes and taking in his surroundings.

Rastus went white so fast, I was sure he’d pass out again.

“Last chance,” Aeron said to me quietly, his eyes blazing. I glanced back at the table, where the hammers, pliers, and scalpels gleamed, and shook my head.

“I’ll stay here. I want to know what Maxime is planning.”

He nodded shortly, shutting the iron door behind us and barring it.

This was it. No going back now; I was sure the air would soon be thick with screams, and it wouldn’t be good business for the club if anyone heard the echoes.

Crow stood in front of Rastus, watching him struggle. He tilted his head idly, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “Speak. The longer you drag this out, the worse it will be for you.”

He didn’t have to bother to sound threatening, to stomp around or brandish the tools yet. Rastus was gasping for breath, looking around wildly for a friendly face, always coming back to settle on me.

“Venus, don’t let them do this,” he moaned. The sound of tinkling metal echoed through the concrete room, but there was nothing he could do to break those chains.

I said nothing. I was nobody’s sister anymore; he had been dead to me from the moment he sold me to Maxime.

“Address your concerns to me, not the lady.” Crow casually walked towards the gurney, selecting a hammer from the array spread before him. He turned back towards Rastus, thumping the head of the hammer against his other palm. The softthwackof iron meeting flesh seemed to continue in a never-ending echo.

“He wanted me to come here and… and distract you,” Rastus garbled, his eyes glued to the hammer. “I was just supposed to be the distraction! They were supposed to kill you all and grab Venus. I had nothing to do with it, it wasn’t my idea, I swear!”

“Doesn’t matter whose idea it was,” Crow said, sinking into a squat and running the head of the hammer over one of Rastus’s knees. “You were told, very specifically, to stay the fuck out of our territory. And yet here you are, with a squad of men ready to kill my people.”

Sweat dripped down Rastus’s face. He made whimpering noises as Crow tapped the hammer against his knee, oh so gently.

“What was I supposed to do? My hands were tied.” Rastus wheezed for breath between words. “He's got me by the balls! All I had to do was get my sister back to him and—”

“You don’t have a sister,” Crow said quietly, now tracing the line of his calf.

“I…” Rastus’s lips trembled as he looked at me.

It didn’t make me pity him, or fear what was coming. All I felt was disgust at this demon, his lower lip trembling like a baby about to wail, able to dish out misery but unable to take it.

“I don’t have a sister,” he repeated, already snotty about the nose, eyes rimmed with red.

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