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26

MALACHI

R usty chains bit into my wrists, the metal caked with my own congealing blood. My head lolled forward, sweat matted hair sticking to my forehead. The cell reeked of damp and old iron, the vinegar sourness of piss and something more acrid hanging in the air. My ribs burned hot with every shallow breath, bruised from Dante Silverwood’s last round of entertainment .

The taste of copper lingered on my tongue, no matter how many times I swallowed.

Evie got away.

Footsteps rang down the narrow corridor, so slow and deliberate I forced my head up, blinking the two figures into focus when they stepped into the dim light. “Look at you two, Ravok’s loyal dogs. Here to inspect your brother’s handiwork?”

Silas and Alistair were decaying beyond recognition, their eyes empty of anything resembling a soul. They weren’t even normal thralls, because from the stench, their bodies were rotting around them.

And they didn’t even know it.

Whatever Ravok had done to them…went beyond creating minions to serve his needs. This was some other dark, corrupted magic, and despite my own shitty circumstances, Silas had ended up getting the worse end of the deal.

Silas crouched before me, tilting his head as he studied me like a carrion bird studied road kill. “You look pathetic, Draven.”

Alistair chuckled, folding his arms. “Soft. Always were.” He leaned against the bars, the shadows warping his pitted, sunken face. “Not exactly the tough, Roman soldier we expected.”

I said nothing. Talking only gave them the satisfaction of knowing they had power over me. Silence was the last shred of defiance I could cling to, so here I was, clinging away.

Silas gripped my jaw, forcing my bleary gaze to meet his crimson one. “Tell me, was it worth the cost?” His nails dig into my skin. “Trading yourself for my pathetic excuse for a daughter?” He spat the words out and something dark writhed inside me, yearning to snap his neck.

Evie got away.

My throat tightened, but I couldn’t let them see their taunting had any effect. My heart pounded with the memory of Evangeline. The way her eyes shone in defiance, the warmth of her skin beneath my fingers, the way she whispered my name like it meant something precious.

Fuck yes, this was worth it.

I’d trade myself a thousand times over if it meant she remained safe.

Silas smirked. “We wouldn’t have hesitated. We’d have handed her over without a second thought and let him use her any way he wanted.”

Rage burned in my gut, but I didn’t take the bait. They wanted me angry. They wanted me broken, but silence was the one thing weak men like them couldn’t stand. The one thing they couldn’t twist or manipulate.

Silence was my best weapon right now, and it was working.

Alistair’s eyes were wild when he gripped my hair and yanked my head back. “Our Master is not pleased you fucked his new toy. When he finds her—and he will—he’ll go hard on her, thanks to you.”

I let out a slow breath, forcing my rage to turn to icy calm, forcing my chaotic thoughts to settle into acceptance. Riordan and Blake would protect her. I had to believe that.

I was here to buy them as much time as I could. This was my trade to make. My choice. And Evangeline’s survival was worth every bruise, every broken bone, no matter how long this went on.

Silas made a raspy sound that might have been a laugh, shaking his head. “You think she’ll come for you?”

“She won’t.” Alistair leaned down to look me in the eye. “You’re not worth the trouble. You’ll die here alone.”

Evie got away.

I wanted her to be free. To live a life untouched by this war, by the darkness that Ravok spread in his wake like a pestilence. If I had to rot in this cell for her to have that chance, so be it. My only regret was that I hadn’t taken Ravok down with me.

I’d managed to draw a few drops of blood, but that was all. One last attack. One final blow before he’d crushed me beneath his formidable magic like a boot crushed a bug.

Silas scoffed and released my jaw, standing. “You’re a waste of our time.”

Alistair stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t know about that. Dante softened him up. Give me an hour, I’ll bet I can get him talking.”

Silas’s expression went all intense, like it had before he’d whispered something to Evangeline. Like his real self was leaking through the possession.

He’d murmured words I couldn’t hear, but whatever he’d told her, Vicious had been shocked to her core. And she didn’t shock easily.

They closed in, and I steeled myself, retreating into the only place they couldn’t reach.

The memory of last night. Of how softly she moaned my name, of her smell and her touch and her absolute perfection. How her fingers traced patterns on my chest as we lay tangled together in the dark, warm breath washing over my neck. The way she looked at me, like I was something more than a traitor, more than a ruined, ancient wreck.

Like I was hers. Like I belonged.

That thought was what I held onto as the pain began.

And I didn’t let go until darkness claimed me, every bit as thoroughly as she had.