Page 84 of Fear the Flames
“No, angel. That’s not the only reason I didn’t take you over to the bed.” His smile transforms into a smirk filled with pleasure and promise. “You and your communication,” he shakes his head, bringing his lips forward for another kiss. “I think you should take some of your own advice and find me before you run headfirst into a brothel.”
“But I didn’t jump over a balcony this time! See, I’m improving.”
He rolls his eyes while standing up and setting me on my shaky legs. He keeps his arms around me while I get my bearings and presses his lips to my forehead. “There are holding cells under every building along this street. Ryder would have taken whoever it is to the cellar for questioning. We’ll head down after we get dressed.”
ChapterThirty-Five
Cayden opens the door, and I’m immediately blasted with an icy chill that leaks up from the dark cellar beneath the brothel. The rickety steps that stretch in front of us look like they’re close to falling apart. I’d worry about stepping on a nail or splinter if I wasn’t wearing thick boots.
A shadowed figure moves to the base of the steps. “He’s restrained,” Ryder’s cool voice rises to meet my ears.
My feet quickly carry me to the bottom, and I give my eyes a moment to adjust. Several torches line the walls, illuminating the damp room. Finnian leans against one of the walls, arms crossed and body tense. There’s nothing in here other than a dusty table, a few brooms in the corner, a slop sink with a broken mirror above it, and a man standing in the center of the room with his head bowed. Dark hair slips from the leather band that holds it back. His arms are spread wide above his head and chained to two separate ceiling beams.
“Have you questioned him yet?” Cayden inquires.
“It was Elowen’s plan. We wanted it to be her call on how to proceed,” Ryder answers, looking to me on what to do next. The chained man chuckles when Ryder says my name. I lock my jaw but don’t look over yet.
“His room will have to be searched. We should also question the partners he was with if you can get the owner and her workers to agree. Lips always get loose during pillow talk,” I list off instructions.
“I’ll start with the room,” Finnian volunteers, springing off the wall. I figured he would want to; he doesn’t usually stay for this part.
“Knock on the door when you’re done searching. I’ll help with the questioning since I know what Saskia would want to ask,” Ryder tells Finnian.
Finnian pauses on the bottom step, looking back at me to confirm that I’ll be alright without him here. I nod and watch him climb the steps and shut the door. Finnian has never judged me for the ways I revel in revenge, but that doesn’t mean he has to watch. Something in my brain snapped, along with something in my chest hardening, years before the world should have revealed its cruel ways. There are moments when I can suppress the rage inside of me, but this isn’t one of them.
“I hope the information you’re going to give me is worth the trouble it took to find you,” I calmly state, turning toward the man. Chains rattle as he shifts in place, slowly lifting his head. My stomach drops to my toes when his eyes meet mine. It’s the same pair of soulless eyes I was forced to stare into as a child.
“Hello again,princess.”
Robick—my father’s head guard.
He’s the guard that beat me the most and took the most pleasure in it. His voice makes my stomach churn and palms moisten. My body pulses as fiery rage courses through me. Cayden and Ryder stiffen on either side of me and exchange a glance above my head, obviously picking up on the fact I know this man.
The sight of him makes my skin crawl. I remember his hands on me, and have the overwhelming urge to throw my body in a bucket of acid to rid my skin of memory. My lip curls in disgust while I take in his features. He has aged, but might appear handsome to someone other than me with his sapphire eyes and a strong jaw. But that’s the thing about abusers; they hide in plain sight. You can’t always detect them as someone can detect poison in a drink. Rage and anger are the two emotions I’ve felt most in my life. They’re two of the first emotions I remember experiencing, and when you experience something for this long, you learn to weaponize it. The world is a cruel place, and anything you don’t learn to control can be used against you.
I pluck two knives from my thigh holsters and twirl them in my hands while taking a few steps toward him. “I must confess that I much prefer you to be the one in chains,” I remark. Cayden and Ryder unsheathe their swords behind me.
“I suggest you start talking,” Ryder stiffly states.
Robick laughs and drags his eyes away from me to face Ryder. “I won’t tell you anything. I know I’m going to die.”
“I will make you beg to die,” Cayden declares in a tone that makes it sound like he’s seconds away from pouncing.
“Commander Veles,” Robick drawls lazily. “I could tell by the scar.”
My fist collides with his nose before he can say anything else. The chains rattle as his head flies back from the force of my hit. It’s a hit that I’ve imagined landing for years, and this is just the start of it.
I turn away from Robick and sheath my knives on my thighs. I’ll use those later. I don’t care if Cayden and Ryder are here to witness this; I’m not giving this moment up. This is a moment I’ve wanted since I learned the definition of revenge. My hands wrap around a wooden broom in the corner, and my brain conjures the sound of a cane slapping against my back, as clear as if Robick is hitting me right now. I use my heavy boot to break off the bristles at the end of the wooden pole and turn back to him.
“I see someone has hard feelings,” Robick says while I walk over to him. “Do you remember how you used to beg me to stop?”
My hands grip the pole, aiming the side with sharp wooden splinters toward him, and deliver a swift hit to his ribs. He cries out in pain; it’s one of the sweetest sounds I’ve had the privilege of hearing. I pull the pole back and deliver another hit. The crunch of his ribs is another sound that will be etched in my brain forever.
“I will not tell you anything,” he rasps.
“I haven’t begun questioning you.” I deliver another hit, noting the blood-stained splinters with delight. “This is just for my enjoyment.”
I swing it into his stomach before dropping the pole to the floor and circle to the front of his slumped frame. My fingers roughly lift his chin, blood drips from the corner of his lip, and I stare into the face of the man I had feared for so long. The presence I dreaded above all others. The others certainly didn’t mind taking part in the beatings, but their priority was to obey their king. Robick beat me because he enjoyed it. He would laugh at the sound of my ribs breaking. His eyes would light up when he first drew blood at the beginning of a session.
