Page 94 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Pailtyn

W e’re lying on a mattress on the floor, having fallen asleep here not long after we arrived.

I thought I’d have nightmares, I thought my sleep would be broken with the terror that someone was coming to get us, but somehow, I slept the entire night through and now, I feel almost rested.

I don’t know where Malik and the other guard is, where the tied-up man is either, but I know better than to ask.

This house feels different, musty, like it hasn’t been cleaned in years. The one we fled felt regal, it smelt of mahogany furniture and oil paintings. This place smells more like I’d imagine a drug den would.

Devin’s arms are wrapped around me, I’m curled up into his chest as if he’s a place of safety. Of comfort.

I don’t want to move. I know that’s irrational, that right now I should be trying to flee, should be pushing this man off me, but for the first time, with his arms around me, I feel truly safe.

All my life I’ve had people looking at me for what I could give them, what they could take from me. Devin may have taken more than anyone else has, and yet, when it matters, he has also protected me, he fights for me, he wants me.

Not for my bloodline.

Not for some bullshit Brethren reasons, but for me, the broken, scarred, fucked person that I am now.

It feels crazy, it is crazy, and yet, I realise that I want this. Truly, I want him. And not just for one moment, not just for now. I want him to worship me, to fight for me, to do all those things he declared back before torturing my uncle.

I want there to be blood.

I want there to be pain.

I want there to be just as much horror inflicted on every single person who hurt me, and I know Devin is the man to do it, Devin is the monster at my back, Devin is the one to save me, to revenge me, to love me and to devour me completely and utterly.

Devin is mine.

My beast. My vengeance. All fucking mine.

His fingers trace down my arm. They trace over those scars that he created so long ago.

God, I’d love to see what they look like now, how they’ve healed. Are they as pretty as he imagined them to be?

“Why did you do it?” I whisper.

“Do what?” He replies.

“Cut out my eyes.”

Out of all the awful things he’s done to me, that has been the one that made no sense.

He stills, his fingertips suddenly feel so heavy on my skin, and I wonder if I’ve fucked up. If I’d have been better to keep my mouth shut and just cherish the peace while I had it.

“Gunther wanted it.” Devin says, breaking the silence that suddenly feels so weighted. “He said you saw too much.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

He shrugs. “The man was crazy, but I knew if I didn’t do it, he’d get someone else to. And they’d do a shit job of it, they’d butcher your face, they’d destroy your beauty, they’d hurt you more.”

“You hurt me,” I snarl.

He brushes the bits of my hair that are splayed over the pillow. “I know I hurt you but this way, I ensured you wouldn’t suffer. And this way, I got to keep your eyes.”

“What?” I gasp, trying to fathom what on earth that even means.

His hands tighten just enough to stop me from recoiling. “Eyes are the window to a person’s soul. No way was I going to destroy that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I say.

“Your soul, Paitlyn. I wanted that piece of you. I wasn’t going to let anyone else claim it. Anyone else steal it.”

I gulp, struggling to wrap my head around what he’s just said. He thinks he owns a piece of my soul? What the fuck?

He lets out a sigh, pulling me in so that my body leans more onto his, so that I’m sprawled over his chest.

“In another life, you wouldn’t have gone through all that shit, I would have realised sooner, I would have acted sooner.”

“Realised what?” I ask.

“That you were meant for me, created for me, God or the devil, or someone, intended for you to be mine.”

His hand cups my cheek, and it’s so easy to believe this, to believe his sweet words and his softness and forget the monster he was before, the man who brutalised me just as much as my husband did.

“We can leave.” He says quietly. “We could do what I wanted to all those years ago, we could disappear, start over, go somewhere they won’t find us…”

“They’ll find us.” I reply. I’m not so stupid to believe there would be any other outcome. Not so na?ve now. “Besides, your brothers are reapers, you think they’d just stop looking for you?”

He doesn’t say anything to that.

“It’s not the life you want, not the life I want.” I continue. “I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder, constantly fearful that I might get caught.”

“Then what do you want, Paitlyn?”

I draw in a deep breath. No one has ever asked me that.

No one has ever cared for my wants. But the ironic truth is, I won’t get what I want now.

I’ll never get it now. I’m too far gone, too lost, too damaged.

I had such dreams of outliving Gunther, of leaving, of travelling, but none of that can happen now.

I run my hands over my face, realising that there are no good options here. We’ve been backed into a corner and there’s only one realistic way out.

“We have to go to your brother.” I state, hardly believing the words coming out of my mouth.

“What?” He snarls, and his entire body language changes.

“Listen,” I say quickly. “He’s the one with the power here, he can protect us, we just have to have something worth bargaining with him. Something that makes it worth his while.”

The seems to tense. Silence hangs between us, and then Devin says in such a tone. “Oh, I have something.”

“What?”

“Titus Ratcliffe.”

“Who?” Who the fuck is that? The name means nothing to me, but I’m guessing that’s the man who was bundled into the van beside me.

“He’s the other candidate for Chapter Lord. Magnus can’t be anointed without him there to concede.” Devin explains.

“Magnus is going for Chapter Lord?” I hiss while my mind does somersaults. Since when would the Brethren accept a Blake as Chapter Lord? God, so much has changed, so much has shifted, since I was locked away.

“I can’t trust him.” Devin states, breaking through my thoughts. “He locked me away, had me institutionalised. He’d sooner stab me in the back than let me into the fold again.”

“Then let me try.” I say.

He scoffs, “No, malktā,” He says. “My brother is not the kind of person to listen to reason, especially not from a woman.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I reply, as a grin creeps across my face.

Magnus may be unapproachable, but if he’s going for Chapter Lord, then I know who will be behind it, who will help us. Who has to help us.