Page 122 of Fated In Forever
I’d barely opened my eyes in time to watch Malachi be forced to his knees, snarling the entire time, Romulus creeping out of the shadows, like a monstrous trick of the light in this underground hell.
Blood soaked my hair, my eye was swelling shut, and Aisling’s expensive jeans were shredded, right along with most of my thigh. If I survived this, I’d be picking pieces of gravel out for days.
Now Romulus waited obediently behind Malachi, expression as empty as any of the thralls, and perhaps I was a fool, but I wondered at what point he would regret his choices. Or would he worship his Master until the bitter end?
Ravok watched my struggle with a cruel smile.
“You know, I figured something out,” he said conversationally, his voice carrying easily while mine remained trapped in my throat, “I realized death really isn't the worst thing that can happen to someone. There are so many other losses that can ruin a person, break their very soul, and all of them are tied to suffering.”
Malachi’s eyes flared, as if he was desperately trying to communicate, to warn me.
I started crawling, feeling my lung collapse inside my ribs, oxygen becoming a precious commodity. Then Ravokblocked my way, flipping me onto my back with the toe of his boot.
Malachi’s face was red, neck tendons straining, but the power of that cursed oath held fast, a prison made of foolish promises and ancient magic that was stronger than iron bars. Tears of frustration burned my eyes as I watched Blake use his shadows to open the door of my sister’s cell, Riordan rushing in behind him.
“Look at them,” Ravok crooned, crouching down over me, wincing as he did so. “They think they’ve saved the day. They think they’re heroes.”
When I started crawling again—because fuck my lung anyway—Ravok sighed and pushed to his feet, I caught a flinch of pain cross his face. I latched onto that split-second of weakness with a desperate, keening hope. Then I was flattened to the disgusting floor by his boot between my shoulder blades, and I couldn’t breathe for real.
“I wonder how much they can take, before they break?” Ravok mused. “They have both already lost so, so much. Sisters and mothers, which means they already have a soft spot for their poor, doomed females.”
All I heard behind the glamoured wall were Blake and Rohr’s low murmurs, planning, I was sure, ways to get my sister and Eldric out of here safely. I lifted my fist and slammed it into the floor as hard as I could.
Once, twice, again, until my hand stung, but I doubted my efforts even mattered.
“Their suffering, Evangeline, is on you.” My neck strained when he jerked me up by the hair, muscles screaming as Ravok dragged me closer to that shimmering wall of illusion. I kicked, tried to elbow him, but the more I fought, the less oxygen reached my brain, everything swimming in front of me.
“Oh no, there’s no passing out. Stay awake, little slayer, I want you to see what happens next. Their pain is going to be delicious.”
Malachi’s wild eyes found mine, his gaze a mirror of my own helplessness. No matter how hard he fought, how much he strained, his flesh was at Ravok’s command.
Ravok took a step closer to Blake and Riordan, dragging me with him, then I felt the cold point of a knife pressing into my throat, just over my carotid artery. “Quick deaths are overrated,” he continued, and Malachi went perfectly still, not breathing, not blinking, as if he’d forgotten how.
‘Watching the people you care about suffer…now that’s the kind of pain that leaves a permanent mark. Let’s make them suffer, little slayer.”
Blake emerged from the cell, warily scanning our end of the corridor, shadows wreathing his fingers and Ravok tightened his grip on my hair, dug the point of the dagger in a little bit deeper. Then Rohr appeared, peering toward me with an intensity that made me wonder if he could actually see through this wall of glamour.
That invisible shield rippled, like a curtain being raised, the lights overhead flickering on, brighter than Broadway.
I screamed out a warning, or tried to—my throat worked against the blade, my lungs burned from the effort, but Ravok's power swallowed the sound as the glamour fell away. And in the glaring silence, I prayed Blake and Riordan would see through his game before it was too late.
58
BLAKE
I’d known this was a trap from the moment we’d arrived, but the nature of it had eluded me. In the past weeks, Rohr and I had discussed at length the various scenarios where Angel might be used as a hostage, as possible leverage against Evie, but with everything happening lately…we had become lax.
And the cost of our carelessness was staring us right in the fucking face.
His hand twisted in her hair, Ravok held my mate off the ground, her toes barely brushing the concrete floor, the point of a wicked-looking knife pressed against her pale, fragile throat. Her eyes blazed with fury, blood streaming down her face as she tried to pry herself free.
She was injured, but…
Malachi's body lay crumpled in the corner, a crimson pool beneath him, his lifeless eyes staring at nothing. From what I could see, his head had nearly been sawn off—probably by the very knife Ravok held at Evangeline’s throat—Draven would never rise to fight another day.
The sight of him dead and my mate so vulnerable turned temper to cold rage.
“Blake,” Evangeline whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “Please...help me. Please,don’t let me die, too.”
