Page 115 of Thorns of Love
One more step and I leaned forward, coming face-to-face with the reality of what my husband had been doing for the past few days. A woman, drenched in blood, hung off the ceiling, her cries of pain traveling through the room and passing me right along the hallway.
From the looks of it, her fingers were broken. Black, purple, and bloody. Nails, if there were any left, were covered in crusty blood. Her knees were broken.
Bile shot up my throat.
Alexei leaned against the dark wall, his complexion stone cold, but there were beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He hated basements. He hated enclosed basements. But it was the sight of Illias that shocked me.
I knew he was ruthless. I knew it was required to survive in our world. But it was different seeing it like this. His white shirt was covered in blood. His rolled-up sleeves revealed those strong hands that held me. That loved me. Except now, they were drenched in blood.
And my husband’s face was pure terror. There was no pity, no mercy. Absolutely zero emotion. Just a granite mask. Judging from his expression, he didn’t feel anything.
“Give me information on Sofia Volkov,” he snarled, holding the pliers against her wrist.
“It can be over,” Alexei said, his voice so cold that goosebumps rose on my skin. “You aligned yourself with the wrong person. She kidnaps, tortures, and traffics children. Just tell us and this is all over.”
She laughed. “Go. To. Hell.”
Illias’ lips curled. Cruel and cold. “Lady, I’ve been there. And they didn’t want me.”
He clamped the pliers together, the sound of bones crunching filling the air.
My eyes widened. The dinner I ate made its way up my throat. I hunched over just in time to throw up all over the stone floor.
“Tatiana!” Illias’ voice registered, but I was too busy emptying the contents of my stomach. “Fuck, Alexei, get her out of here.”
I straightened up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Alexei advanced on me, imposing and cold. The arctic look in his eyes froze me down to my soul.
“A-Alexei,” I rasped, feeling a semblance of fear in my brother’s company. Not of him. But of the past that lurked in his eyes that gave me a glimpse of the shit he had to endure. It was all there, staring back at me.
“Go to bed, Tatiana.” He didn’t touch me, however this time it was because he feared I’d reject his closeness. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.
I swallowed another flood of bile threatening to come up, my eyes darting to the battered woman hanging from the ceiling. Her eyes met mine, green like Adrian’s, and recognition washed over me.
“You!” I said.
She smiled, a batshit crazy smile. “She’s gonna come for you all,” she murmured. “All of you. There’s no stopping it. I can’t wait to see her burn your babies alive.”
“Shut her up!” Alexei growled, his eyes never wavering from me. “This bitch won’t tell us anything tonight.”
Illias took tentative steps towards me, still covered in blood. The coppery scent hung like fog in the air, clogging my throat and I couldn’t stop it. Another round of vomit came up and I hunched over.
And the whole time the woman cackled and cackled. Like she had lost her mind.
Maybe she had. Maybe I had.
Because I felt no remorse or pity for her.
THIRTY-NINE
TATIANA
Illias lowered himself into the chair with a tired sigh.
Blood smeared his clothes and his hands. Exhaustion marred his face, but there was a hardness there too. The shadows on his face seemed darker. More drawn, somehow.
Another day had passed since I witnessed the torture. I still loved him. I still trusted him. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. For our future. For our babies. For our family.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly.
