Page 37

Aurelia

My body hits the wall so hard I feel something in my spine shift. As my head cracks back against it with a dull, a sickening thud echoes and I suck in a breath, sharp and broken. Zye looms over me, trapping me in with his hands slammed beside my head. His face is inches from mine, whiskey breath coating my skin like oil.

“You were supposed to die,” he snarls.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t.” My voice is thin, but I hold it, gripping the fear, keeping it from spilling over. I won’t beg. Never. Not for him.

He just stares, jaw tight, vibrating with rage.

“Thanks for my brother’s eyeballs, by the way.” His lips barely move. “Very fucking thoughtful of you.”

I freeze, pulse hammering in my throat.

“I thought so,” I grit out.

His smile is cruel, dead behind the eyes and he suddenly steps back, dragging his gaze over me like he’s already peeling layers back.

“Fucking hell… Arabella’s got a backbone now.”

He starts rolling his sleeves up slow, and I already know. I know exactly what’s coming. That’s the way he always did it. Sleeves rolled up first.

My eyes dart to the fireplace, then the hammer, the poker, but all of it is too far.

But I make a run for one anyway.

I don’t get two steps close before his arm swings and the back of his hand cracks across my face like a whip.

White explodes in my skull and I hit the floor hard, pain ripping through my cheek and jaw, the world spinning in and out. He’s already on me, yanking my hair so hard I think he’s trying to rip it out by the root. He lifts my face to his, close enough I can count the cracks in his teeth.

“Know why I killed you, Arabella?” he hisses. “Because I was so obsessed, but your cunt turned out to be a fucking letdown.”

Blood drips down my chin. I can barely see, barely breathe, but I make my eyes find his and I lock in. Not with fear. Just hate.

“No,” I say between breaths, my face throbbing. “You were just shit. You’re weak.”

He suddenly spits in my face, fury snaps through me and I lunge. My thumbs find his eyeballs and I dig in with a loud scream, but he yanks back, grabbing my head in both hands and slamming it against the hard concrete.

The blow cracks through me, my vision blackening, but he’s not done. He lifts his leg and drives his foot into my stomach. The wind is knocked clean out of me, and I groan, body curling as I drop onto my side.

“Ugly,” he seethes.

Kick.

“Little.”

Kick.

“Rat.”

Blood pours from my mouth, rising hot in my throat. My stomach twists in agony, my body writhing across the floor. I feel like I might fucking die by this monster, again.

He suddenly grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking me up, but I can’t stand, my legs are like jelly, so he drags me by my scalp instead.

“Mom never liked you. She wanted to fucking sacrifice your cursed little body so many times.”

Next, I’m forced up against the wall, one arm stretched outward. I’m barely conscious when he drives a nail through my palm, hammering me to the wall. I scream, my body shaking, but I can’t move—his big frame keeps me pinned.

“Luckily for you, she was getting paid not to.” He spits out the words with each strike.

Each strike is white-hot agony, but he doesn’t stop. When he moves onto the next, I try to fight, writhing in any way I can, but as soon as that nail goes in, I cry out—tears streaming down my face.

“We all knew what the fuck you were.”

When both nails are all the way in, my blood trickling steadily onto the floor, I can barely stand while he steps away. My head lowers as he starts to shred my clothes away, piece by piece until I’m completely naked.

As I open my eyes, barely able to breathe, I see the deep purple bruises already forming on my stomach, blood spilling from my mouth, mixing with the spit, dripping down my chin.

I struggle to focus, lifting my dazed eyes to see Zye standing by the fireplace, lifting the poker with a hot, orange tip. His movements are slow as he turns toward me, the glow of the fire reflecting in his eyes. My vision traces in and out, but I’m still aware of every twisted step he takes toward me.

“I’m gonna make your body and your cunt look all burnt up and pretty,” he taunts, his voice dripping with sick satisfaction.

When the poker teases my thigh, I scream, jerking back, but he’s not touching me yet. He’s just fucking playing with me, torturing me the way he always did, always made sure I knew how powerless I was.

“This brings back memories, Arabella,” he murmurs, his voice low as he drags the poker over my skin.

I feel the heat radiating from it, the sting of it threatening to break me, but it never quite touches. Every inch of my body is on fire from his game, and I can feel the blistering burn forming just under the surface.

But then, suddenly, he stops. The ringing of his phone cuts through the thick tension in the room.

He answers the phone like it’s just another fucking call, completely indifferent to the fact that I’m nailed to the wall, suffocating in pain, my body mangled and covered in burns.

My vision blurs again, everything twisting around me, but I focus, forcing my gaze up at my hands, the nails embedded deep into my skin. They’re holding me in place, keeping me tethered to the wall, but I know I can’t stay here forever.

I need to get out of here. This is my chance.

I concentrate, turning my thoughts to the pain I’ve endured before, the way I survived with Wrath, the way I lived through everything that should’ve killed me.

I push those memories into the forefront of my mind, a trace of resolve in the madness. I pull against the nails with everything I’ve got, teeth grinding together as I fight the urge to scream.

My hands tremble with the effort, but I don’t make a sound. I’m careful and slow as I tear through my flesh, the sharp pain coursing through me with every inch. It feels like my very bones are being shredded, but I don’t stop. Not until one hand is free, the nails pulling out of my skin with a sickening pop.

Then I yank the other, my body jerking as it comes loose with a tear, my blood spilling across the floor. I stumble forward, my movements shaky. I force my head to stay low, my bloodied mouth pressed against the back of my hand, wiping the remnants of my agony off my skin.

Zye is still standing by the fireplace, too fucking comfortable. He doesn’t hear me. Doesn’t see me moving, each step like a fucking killer closing in on its victim. I move on my tiptoes like a ballerina, silent, swift, every movement controlled, filled with quiet rage.

When I get close, I use all my strength and shove him forward, using my entire body weight to slam him into the fireplace. He goes down hard, his head hitting the edge with a sickening crack before he tumbles in. The heat from the fire licks at my skin as I stand there, panting, watching him.

His screams ricochet off the walls, filling the room with a guttural, agonizing sound, but he manages to pull himself out of the flames, stumbling on shaky legs, his face already starting to melt, the skin curling and bubbling.

His hand is scorched, but I don’t give him a second to recover. I push past the searing pain, every movement laced with desperation, fury. I ram my shoulder into him again, harder this time, the force of my hit knocking him off balance.

He grabs the edge of the fireplace to steady himself, but the damage is done. I step back, watching as his shirt catches fire, the flames licking up his body. He reaches back, clawing at the burning fabric, his movements erratic, panicked, as the fire spreads faster, consuming him like an inferno.

His screams are everything I’ve wanted to hear. Every ounce of pain he’s feeling is just... He fucking deserves this, all of it.

But Zye’s never going down without a fight. His clothes are already in flames, his skin melting off him in grotesque chunks, but he still charges toward me, burning alive, his eyes wild with anger.

I don’t flinch as he lunges, ready to crush me beneath him, ready to drag me down into the flames with him.

I stumble back, my legs failing me, and I hit the wall with a sickening thud. My hands fly to my face, the pain of my wounds crashing down as I brace for whatever’s coming next, but then, suddenly, there’s a deafening bang.

A crash, followed by the sharp crack of a gunshot.

Bang!

I blink through the haze, confusion clouding my senses, and as the sound fades, I lower my trembling hands, my breath catching as I watch Zye’s body crumple to the floor, lifeless, his screams silenced.

I can barely keep myself upright, the world spinning, my thoughts fragmented, when suddenly, Wrath is there, his hands gentle yet firm as they find my face.

His voice is a muffled blur, the words lost in the chaos around me. All I can feel are the tears streaming down my cheeks, hot and frantic.

Time slows, everything distorting around us, until his leather jacket is wrapped around my shoulders, cocooning me in warmth.

My body buckles, the raw emotion ripping through me, and I fall against him with a shuddering sob. Wrath pulls me into his chest, his arms cradling me, holding me together as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“I’m here, my little corpse. I’m here.”