Page 54 of Scarred
His thumb tips up my chin. “Maybe you’re my good luck charm.”
I force a smile. “I hope to be more than that.”
He grabs my hand then, pulling it to his chest. I let him and notice how quickly his heart is racing beneath his clothes. If I were a naive girl, I’d think it had to do with me.
But I know the truth.
Something has spooked him.
And it’s something to do with his dead father.
CHAPTER22
Tristan
When I mentioned the abandoned cabin to Antony before I snapped his neck, I wasn’t lying.
I found it one day after escaping from my brother and his pack. I’m not sure who originally owned the place, and I know even less about who inhabited the inside, but Idoknow in the ten years since I found it, there hasn’t been another living soul that’s known of its existence, or been inside the shoddy, crumbling walls.
Over the years, I’ve cleaned it up. There’s no running water, and electricity is too new for it to exist here, but despite all of that, it’s comfortable.
It’s also in such a condensed area of the woods that nobody can hear the screams.
“I don’t want to continue hurting you,” I say, walking around Edward. I anchored his arms with thick chains to a long wooden table that’s declined enough for his head to be beneath his body. “Iwantto trust you.”
His breathing is choppy; I can tell from the way the dirty white cloth that’s over his face morphs with each of his heavy breaths, being sucked into his mouth and blowing back out.
“You were foolish,” I continue. “And as a result, everything could be ruined. Do youknowwhat you’ve done?”
He shakes his head, the chains clanking from where his arms pull. “I’m sorry,” he says, the words muffled behind the fabric.
My stomach burns from what he’s forcing me to do, and I exhale a breath, clicking my tongue. “It’s too late for apologies, Edward. We must repent for our mistakes and learn from them.”
I dip the large metal jug into the bucket of water at my feet, bringing it over his head and tilting until the liquid pours in a steady stream onto his face, soaking the cloth and dribbling into his mouth until it fills his airways.
The tendons in his neck bulge as he thrashes against the table.
“I’m sure you know this is nothing compared to what will happen if your lover gossips and we’re arrested for treason,” I note. “After all, you’ve been the one doling out the punishment for years now.”
His breathing garbles, his body rising and falling in jerky movements as he chokes on the water, unable to do anything except experience the sensation of drowning and pray that I let him live.
I snap the jug upright again and sigh, my insides curdling at the thought of having to resort to such extremes. The large bottle thumps against the rotting wood floor as I set it down, before leaning over Edward and removing the cloth from his face.
His skin is sopping wet; broken blood vessels spinning spider webs around his eyes, his lips cracked and bleeding from where he’s bit into them in his panic.
I adjust the table until he’s lying flat. “If you were anyone else, I would kill you.”
His head lolls to the side, his chest heaving. “I know,” he says, his voice broken and hoarse.
“Are you going to thank me for my mercy?”
His eyes find mine, his mouth parted and panting.
“I don’t want to break your spirit, Edward. You must know it pains me as much as it does you.” I place my hand on my chest. “But bringing someone in without my approval was dangerous at best and a suicide attempt at worst.”
He blinks, his tongue swiping against the chapped flesh. “Thank... you.”
“For?” My brows rise.
