Page 80 of Final Vendetta

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s amazing what a couple dozen metal bars and a lock will do to a person.”

I turned my head away, but he didn’t stop.

“It strips them down to their most primal instincts, separating the weak from the strong. Survival, Ms. Prescott. That’s all that matters in there. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

I wanted to scream at him, tell him I wasn’t afraid of him, that I’d survived worse. But the words died on my tongue. All I could do was sit there, frozen, as the door at the far end of the room creaked open, revealing an endless void.

I said a silent prayer, hoping it wasn’t Gideon who would appear from the darkness.

I should have known I wouldn’t get my wish.

He emerged slowly, a dark silhouette moving closer. My chest tightened, my body instinctively leaning forward, despite my restraints. As if I could somehow reach him, pull him back, shield him from this nightmare.

When he stepped fully into the light, the world around me seemed to tilt. It took everything in me not to wail at the sight of him, his feet bare, dress pants torn, his scars on full display. I wanted to call his name, but the sound wouldn’t come. My throat felt like it was closing, my breath hitching in shallow gasps as tears blurred my vision.

And when his eyes fell on me, his nostrils flared, a hint of that rage I’d seen in all those videos shining through.

He strained against the bindings, his muscles taut as he fought to get closer. “Imogene.”

It was barely more than a rasp, a sound torn from his throat like it physically hurt to say my name.

The despair in his voice unraveled me completely. Tears spilled freely down my cheeks, hot and unrelenting. I wanted to throw myself at him. Take his place. Protect him the way he’d always fought to protect me. But I couldn’t move. The guards held me in place, their presence a cold reminder of my helplessness.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I choked out, my voice cracking under the weight of the words.

“I’ll always come for you. It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

I shook my head, unable to speak, my chest heaving as a sob caught in my throat. I didn’t see how we would be okay. How we’d get out of this.

Myers’ laugh cut through the moment, sharp and cruel. “How romantic. Now if you two love birds are done, it’s time for your surprise.” He turned his attention toward Gideon, a sadistic smile curling his lips. “Consider it a gift. After the hours of enjoyment you’ve provided me, it was the least I could do for you.”

He nodded toward one of the guards, who retreated down the same hallway Gideon had just come from. Tense anticipation filled the room as we waited to see what Myers’ surprise would be. I knew it wouldn’t be good.

I just didn’t realize how depraved it would actually be.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Gideon

“What are you talking about?” I seethed, glaring at Myers as he approached.

The air in the room was stifling, thick with sweat and anticipation as I stood in this cage once more. It was the last place I wanted to be, but I found some comfort that Imogene was still alive. I hated that she was here, hated that Myers had dragged her into my nightmare, forcing her to see parts of me I never wanted her to know.

Parts I’d hoped to bury.

I should have known better.

“Oh, you’re going to love it,” Myers replied, the amusement in his tone making my skin crawl.

A heavy silence fell over the room, and my gaze floated toward the corridor as a shadow moved in the distance, distorted by the dim lighting.

Then I heard footsteps, uneven and hesitant. They weren’t charging in like some confident fighter eager to prove their worth. These steps were reluctant, as if being forced.

I knew they were.

A figure emerged slowly, barely distinguishable at first. Broad shoulders. Tall. Male. Something about the shape tuggedat the edges of my memory, but the dim lighting played tricks on my eyes.

As the man stepped into the light, his features became clearer. Gaunt, hollowed cheeks. Face hidden with an overgrown beard. Hair disheveled and damp with sweat. Clothes hanging off him like they no longer fit, although they once did.

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