Page 73 of Whispers of the Dead

The scared guy swallows hard, but he doesn’t answer. I have to admit, I’m surprised he’s the first to speak up. Normally, he keeps silent until he can remove himself from an uncomfortable moment.

He gulps. “You let him take over in the first place.”

“My mistake was laying my trust in someone I shouldn’t have. I was careless, but I’ll own up to it. That’s not a mistake I’ll make again.”

The door creaks open and Mars and Jace enter the room, dragging a bloodied figure between them. One of Eugene’s loyalists, Harlan. They shove him into a chair with his hands bound behind his back. His body slumps forward before he lifts his head. He looks up at me and grins through his blood-stained teeth.

“Well, if it isn’t for the fallen king,” Harlan sneers. “What’s this? A reunion, or an execution?”

I crouch in front of him so my gaze is level with his. “That depends on you.”

Harlan laughs, but the sound turns into a cough. “You don’t scare me, Avery. Eugene owns this place now. All you’re doing is playing house and hiding in dark corners with the other scared brats.”

“Maybe.” I motion to one of my men. “However, you’re the one tied to a chair.”

His grin falters.

I lean in close. “Tell me about Eugene’s plans. What’s he up to? What’s he really doing? I want to know his limit.”

Harlan spits blood onto the floor. “Go to hell.”

With a sigh, I stand and nod to the man behind him. A sharp crack echoes when the butt of a rifle connects with the back of Harlan’s skull. He groans.

I watch blood drip onto the plastic-covered floor. “You’re going to talk, or this gets much worse.”

All it takes is a few more hits, a few well-placed threats, and one severed pinky before he cracks. Harlan’s breath is ragged and his words slur, but I hear every single damn one. “Eugene’s been trading,” he chokes out around a mouthful of blood. “People. Mostly women. Trading them for weapons, supplies, whatever he can get.”

My body stills and bile rises in my throat. “And Zoey? What’s his plan for her?”

Harlan gives a weak laugh, and a layer of blood coats his lips. “Oh, he’s obsessed. Wants to break her, make her his. Then once he does, he might trade her off, too. Or maybe he’ll keep her. Either way, she’s fucked.”

White-hot rage burns through me at a level I never knew was possible, and it takes everything I have to keep it in check. I’ve always been good at controlling my temper, but right now, it’s a razor-thin wire keeping me from snapping his neck where he sits. Which is an odd feeling, considering I’ve never cared about something enough to overthrow an entire organization before. “Tell me about his followers. How loyal are they?”

Harlan smirks, but I can see the hint of fear creeping in. “Loyal enough. He promises them everything. Riches, power, safety, the most comfortable life where they basically rule the world. You can’t compete with that, Avery. You’re a mere memory now.”

I motion for my men, and they drag him right back out. His bloodied laughter echoes through the room, even after he’s gone.

“What do we do now?” one of my men asks.

More voices rise, and questions swirl around me. I lose it.

The concrete wall cracks beneath my fist, sending a sharp jolt of pain up my arm. Everyone jumps. “Leave,” I bark out.

They scatter without hesitation, and the door slams shut behind them.

Silence.

I lean against the creaky table again and flex my bloodied knuckles, watching the red droplets drip onto the floor and mingle with Harlan’s blood that the bastard left behind. I haven’t decided what to do with him yet. Or the others. Part of me wants to let them rot in the same cages Zoey and the others were thrown into, while the other part of me wants to end them all in a bloodbath.

Then there’s Eugene. Only one of us will survive this.

Zoey’s face flashes in my mind. Her fire, her fury, the way she refuses to break despite everything. She doesn’t deserve this. None of them do, including the three men who’ve risked everything for her and have taken quite a liking to her. I respect their refusal to back down and the protective way they watch over her, regardless of the bars that bind them.

This feeling is strange. I used to be like Eugene. The only difference between us is his obsession with her made him worse. I seem to have found the same thing, but it had the opposite effect. While he wants to destroy her, I want to put her on a pedestal and watch her shine. I want her to fight, and I want to protect her fire. When she told me about dregs, and even called me one, I decided right then and there that I wasn’t going to become one. Not at the expense of her.

Zoey is strong. Much stronger than I gave her credit for, but strength only goes so far when someone as dangerous as Eugene is pulling the strings. I don’t want to find out if he has the ability to darken her light.

I run a hand through my hair, smearing blood across my scalp in the process, and let out a slow breath.

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