Page 120 of Deadly Knight
“How do we figure out which one he’s in?”
Vanessa tests the door nearest her and it opens a few inches. “That’s how. Check each handle.”
We spread down the hallway, pulling on each door. It’s the fifth handle I tug on that doesn’t budge. Despite being locked, hope surges through me because if it’s locked it means it can be unlocked and he’sright there.
“Here!”
Anastasia rushes for the door, jamming the key inside. It unlocks with a click and she hauls the door open. I push past her, uncaring about the darkness until Vanessa hauls me back with an arm around my waist and places me beside her, angling to go first.
“I get what you’re feeling, believe me, but we don’t know what’s in there. So before you run headfirst into danger…”
The two enter first, Anastasia reaching on either side of the doorway to search for a switch. In the centre of the room, there’s a large glow—a TV?—lighting up the bars of the cell it sits feet away from.
Anastasia locates the switch and lights the disgusting room up, revealing the flatscreen on the stand in the centre of the room, and the four-by-four cell that Dimitri’s inside.
I see her.
I hear her.
She’s all I can hear.
Screaming.
Actually, not really. She’s not screaming on the recording because she didn’t scream that day. Because she’s so fucking strong, even when she spent the rest of her life doubting it.
In my mind, she’s screaming. Her pain is my punishment for not sending her back to the bonfire that night. For not doing what I vowed to always do and protect her.
I’ve been repenting every day since.
Light washes away the misery, and footsteps echo around me but I keep my head down, my limbs exhausted from jerking on the chair the fuckers tied me to, after they realized I’d found a way to turn away from the screen. This forces me to witness Katya’s demise.
Not demise. That’d imply she’s done for, when she’ll come out of this stronger than ever.
Now, me on the other hand?
The steps presumably belong to her four rapists, but I don’t have the energy to stare at them. To promise them a lifetime of misery, to be hunted until their skull is crushed beneath my boot.
“Oh my god!”
A feminine voice breaks through the misery and rage.
Katya.
Of course it’s her. She’s tied to the bed, forced to endure the unendurable while I do nothing, watching on.
Metal clangs in the background, louder than her rapists’ grunts, but I don’t look up. Steps approach, the question of who it is when they should be pinning her to the mattress isn’t formulating in my head how it should be.
Small, warm hands cup my face as a body drops to their knees in front of me, swearing. The touch is gentle, soothing, and welcoming to my numerous aches. Maybe it’s the reaper dragging me toAdbecause it’s certainly where I’m headed after witnessing what I have.
My arms are freed for some reason, but they remain in position, tied by confusion and grief.
Silence permeates the room, stilted by the heavy breaths of the person holding me. The sounds of her being raped die down, peace filtering through my ears for the first time in—how long has it been since they kidnapped us? How long have I been watching this?
“Dimitri, look at me.”
I do. I lift my head, if only to ensure I haven’t completely lost my mind because there’s no wayshe’shere when she should be tied to the mattress. Did they let her go? That makes no sense.
A caramel shade of brown clashes with my eyes, widening as she scans my face. Her touch gets lighter on my cheeks, but I rest my hands over hers, unwilling to let her go. I don’t knowwhy she’s here, or how, but I’ll be damned if they ever touch her again.
