Page 62 of Court of Evil

The boy stares up at me sadly, his hands tugging on his striped shirt. “She won’t talk to me or look at me. I tried for hours, but she couldn’t see me.” Tears flow down his face, and I nod. I don’t know how much he understands, but I don’t want him to be upset.

“It’s okay, buddy. I’m here now.” I walk over, putting my gun and knife away so I don’t spook her, then I crouch within her eyesight, careful of the boy’s body.

“I’m here to help,” I tell her, but she doesn’t even blink. Her deep brown eyes are open and unseeing, surrounded by long, pink-tipped lashes. “What’s her name?” I ask her brother.

“Isabella, but she prefers Fang,” he replies.

“Fang?” I ask, but she doesn’t move, so I tread closer, holding my hands up. “Fang?” I say louder. I don’t want to scare this girl, but I can’t let her stay down here. It’s not fair to her or her brother. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Writ,” he whispers.

“Isabella, Writ sent me.” At his name, she jerks upright, her eyes landing on me, and she scrambles back to the wall, realising someone else is here.

“Easy,” I murmur softly. “My name is Tate, and I’m here to help you.”

“How did you get here?” she asks, her voice hoarse, but I have a feeling it would normally be silken.

“I had some help. We don’t have time, and I will explain later, but for now, I’m going to free you, okay? To do that, I’ll need to call one of my friends down to help. He’ll break the chains?—”

“No!” she yells at the word “he,” and I freeze. Anger, hatred, and terror fill her eyes, and I nod in understanding.

“Okay, I won’t, but can I try to free you?” I nod at the collar. “Then we can get out of here.”

She watches me for a moment before nodding softly. Sighing, I approach her and look at the chain, trying to find a lock or something I can unhook without touching her.

“He had keys. He always takes them upstairs,” she tells me, and I turn and meet her gaze from inches away. She swallows but seems braver.

“Okay—”

“They are in the kitchen,” Writ says.

I stand and step back.

“I’m just going to get the keys, okay?” I tell her.

She shuffles to her knees, her eyes wide. “Please, please don’t leave me here.”

“I won’t.” I kneel before her again, taking her hands, and she doesn’t pull away. “I promise, okay? I will be right back. I just need to get the keys so I can free you.”

She leans closer, pressing her forehead to mine, and I let her. She blows out a breath and leans back. “Be quick.”

Nodding, I hurry up the stairs, ignoring the curious looks from the others as I search the cupboards in the kitchen, taking great pleasure in ripping open doors and spilling their contents everywhere. “There,” Writ murmurs, pointing at a drawer.

I hurry over, yank it open, and toss the cutlery drawer on the floor, seeing the keys under it. I grab them and dart back down. Fang’s eyes are wide and her chest heaves in fear, but she relaxes a bit when she sees me.

I head back over and search for the right key. It takes a few tries, and then it finally clicks. The collar drops, and I remove it from her neck, letting it hit the floor. She rubs her throat, eyeing me. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“Of course. We need to leave,” I instruct softly, knowing she’s struggling right now.

I help her to her feet, and she tugs on her clothes, trying to cover her curvy body. I was right. She’s small, barely reaching my shoulder, and I find my gaze wandering over her delicious body appreciatively.

Fuck. I step back, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. I don’t give a fuck about gender, I never did, but now is not the time to check someone out, even if she is stunningly beautiful. That’s just fucked up. Luckily, she doesn’t notice.

“I won’t leave him here.” Her voice cracks on the last word as she stares at her brother.

I see grief, heartbreak, and blame in her eyes. She faults herself for not protecting him. Writ is quiet, and I glance at him to see him looking at his body.

“We won’t,” I promise her, and I head over. “Can I carry him for you?”

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