Page 6

Chapter 6

Adrian

"C hrist, does Archon not feed you here?" I wheezed as I spoke, each word making me want to curl up and die as I pulled the damp, soiled air into my lungs.

The guard doling out my current beating seemed to take offense at my joke. He was short and on the heavier side, wearing a gaudy piece of shining steel armor like he'd walked directly out of the twelfth century. That bulk was more than just for show, though. His next hit slammed into my cheekbone, my head snapping to the side as I tried and failed to avoid the blow. It hadn't worked once since I'd been strung up by my wrists, and the guards started treating me like their own personal pinata. They hadn't even had the decency to give me a cell with a view.

Instead, I was forced to focus on the decrepit walls that seemed to literally fall apart around us as the bricks crumbled under years of watered-down days. Even the smell was distracting, like unkempt paintings and sour mold, or the rust that ate at the chains that held me. They creaked and groaned as I swayed.

It was disgusting, even by dungeons standards. Osiris would be having a fit.

I spit, grimacing as blood and the broken remains of one of my teeth clattered to the ground. I felt around with my tongue, mourning the loss of one of my molars. The bit of joy I had left stemmed from the smile I had to force, staring through one good eye as the guard snarled behind his mask, the one that made it impossible to hit him with a Charm . I shouldn't have goaded him, shouldn't have given him the time of day or the ammunition to try to split my skull again.

But I was nothing if not a people person.

"You hit like a bitch." Each word was a farce, one I poured my heart and soul into as the next blow struck my ribs. The snap of one of them was audible, almost as loud as the cry I hid with a deranged laugh, one meant to veil a truth I didn't want them to see.

I hurt .

Every part of me, every bone and muscle. Every tendon that flexed under my skin as I tried to brace for the next blow, coming from a hand laden in silver that found a convenient home in my kidney.

Every breath as blood dribbled down the side of my face, slipping past torn lips and sticking to my battered neck.

The guards didn't have any reaction beyond that first slip of a snarl. No words to distract me or secrets to horde for later. I tried to remind myself that this was temporary. I may not be Fallon, but I could handle a little light torture. Right?

After all, everyone in this building would be dead soon. Either I'd make it out, or Osiris would come for me, come for us, wherever the others were. We had to have been gone long enough for worry to start in him. Start in Aaliyah .

Ah, my little love. The light at the end of the tunnel that kept me going as the next hit cracked something along my sternum. Her lavender eyes, the soft way she smiled. I could almost feel her touch, mending the parts that had broken, her kiss a balm that would wipe away the hurt.

The next blow caught my eye, my distraction not giving me time to evade as his hit landed true. Red covered my vision, blood exploding around me.

Asshole.

I flexed my hands, fingers numb and wrists torn open where the metal sank in. Breathing became a struggle, and it took far too long to remember that I didn't really need to. I held my breath, head tipping back as I tried to keep the smile on.

This wasn't my game; it never had been, but I had to play it. For my own sanity, if nothing else.

Keep the facade, hide the weakness.

Fallon would have been laughing by now. Would have scared the guards so shitless they wouldn't have dared to even get close enough for him to spit on them . I could feel him even now, in my chest, along the bonds that I reached for every few minutes to make sure he and Eirik were still kicking.

Because I couldn't stand to think about how badly it hurt.

"No response? And to think, we could have had such riveting conversation," I babbled, half choking on my blood as I coughed. "As it is, this is kind of a snooze fest, don't you think? If you're going to resort to torture, the least you can do is make it less boring."

The guard in front of me tensed again as I grimaced and had to be dragged back as the scent of rotting flesh spread from him, just enough to catch. A hint of what he was, something to grab onto.

I let out a breath, tipping my head back up to look at him.

They hadn't spoken, not one of them , since they'd walked in those hours ago. Barely made any sound at all . This was a tell, if nothing else. A weakness, a secret, I could use.

I may not be able to go blow for blow, but I knew how to trade in secrets. I grabbed onto the scent, locking it away.

"Ah, an Undead." The way he froze kept me guessing, pushing on as the others seemed to shuffle nervously. Knowing what someone was could be deadly in the wrong hands. Naturals weren't rare per se, but with his scent and knowing what he was? I could do some real damage with that, and he knew it. "Like that of an old crypt. Not quite the sweetness of trona that a Mummy might have … a Ghoul, maybe?"

I knew I was right when he flinched, stepping away from me. My own moniker came in handy, the fear of what the Collector might do enough to get them to back off as I chuckled. If I got out, I could find him. He knew that. Thank God he knew that. "What, cat got your tongue?"

He snarled again, the sound drowned out by the clicking of the cell door behind me just as he rushed forward, only to be held back by his fellow guards again … before they all went silent.

The fear in his stance was a living thing, the way he trembled as he looked over my shoulder enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand. Any trace of his attention on me faded, every ounce of it following the sound of boots on a sodden ground that slowly grew louder behind me.

I'd never really thought of sound as ominous before, not in a visceral way, anyway. Fear was nothing new. It followed the worry of things that lurked alone in the dark, the fear of death and of loss. I recalled the moment I was turned, and the creeping anxiety that came with being hunted.

Or the panic that came when Ali's mark had started to burn upstairs, before I'd been dragged down here, and every thought I'd had on her since. Hoping, begging , that she was okay. That the sinking feeling in my stomach wasn't real.

The sound of the steps was different, almost like I was a fly caught in a spider's web, and while the magic that tied into the binds at my wrist locked the Flame in my chest, it didn't stop me from scenting the change in the air.

Fool's gold: bitter and fake. Like a thousand lies and the products of a snake oil salesman.

"They can't respond to you, Collector . I made sure of that." The words were followed by the sharp press of fingers into my back, toying with battered ribs. I jolted away from the touch that sought to sink the pain deeper as he searched for the spot that made me squirm the most.

I wasn't Fallon. I wasn't a fighter; I never had been. I could barely deal with a burned finger because I tried to eat a cookie that was a little too fresh out of the oven. I couldn't handle pain like he could.

And that showed when I screamed.

It was the first one I'd really let out, the first one that felt real. It slipped past, and no amount of me trying to hold it in would have stopped it as Archon kept digging. When he pulled away, I sagged forward, held only by the chains.

"Well, if it isn't tall, dark, and scraggly. Can it wait for a bit? Can't you see I'm busy?" I bit out, out of breath, sweat sliding down over my face, landing in the fresh lacerations as he walked the rest of the way, until he was in front of me. He didn't have the same fear the guards did, his face a mask of smug authority that I'd grown used to seeing in men like him. He was dressed for a party, all dolled up in a fancy new suit that looked like it damned well might have been sown onto him—a golden-rimmed white atrocity with a fluffed cravat peeking out around his collar. "You look nice, very cleaned-up. I'll warn you now, though, Sebek is more preferential to bows. Might consider getting one in red to put on the back of your head so he has something to look at while you kiss his?—"

A blow came out of nowhere, cracking into my ear hard enough to make my head spin, blood splattering over the front of that pretty white. I wasn't fast enough to mask the pain.

"I was going to say boots," I wheezed, my head ringing.

Archon didn't react how I was expecting, no indignation or petty pride. His eyes didn't light up with that same fearful hint I'd seen when we'd first gotten to Fellow Manor. Gone was the man who seemed to almost hunch over himself, replaced with someone who knew they'd played a rigged game.

One they'd already won.

My instincts were rarely wrong about people, and with just that one look, I knew I'd missed something. My mind raced back to the letter he'd sent, to the way he'd invited us into his home, seemingly with no real resistance. The timing was suspicious, so close to the Eternium … and now paired with the burning in my wrist, the ache of fresh marks that still stung.

My little love's marks. The thought of something wrong with her was enough to send fresh adrenaline straight into my veins.

Archon would bend over backward to lick his own ass if it would make Sebek happy, and Sebek, if nothing else, was meticulous and obnoxiously prideful. He'd kill us himself before he let someone else do it and risk being seen as weak.

So, why were we still here? We'd been set up, but we'd known that coming in. I hadn't expected more than a little show, maybe a slap on the wrist, and a direct transition to Kri'Valta's Gala. Had we been too cocky to realize the ramifications of this visit because we'd always assumed we were invincible? Either behind Sebek or behind Osiris.

Which meant Sebek had given Archon the go-ahead to do with us as he pleased …

Or Archon hadn't told him we were here.

"What? Cat got your tongue? " Archon goaded, returning my own words back to me, as if watching my thoughts unfold in front of him.

I wasn't a fighter.

"I can see that mind of yours turning, searching for an answer that isn't there, begging to be wrong about why you're still here." Archon's words broke in.

"You're really good at dancing around a point," I said, voice now hoarse and cracked. "Why don't you cut to the chase so I can get back to entertaining these lovely gents, hmm? What do you want?"

The silence was almost as harrowing as an answer as Archon watched on. Seconds went by, time passing so slowly I half wondered if I'd ended up in hell. The anticipation of another blow fucked with my head.

It never came.

"Of all the things to ask. I was expecting you to worry for your kin. I never saw you as the selfish type." I flinched when he leaned in. "You Vivas have always been obnoxiously close-knit."

My heart stalled, my breath stolen from me again as dread sank down into my stomach. Acid built up, and I nearly puked as I searched for the bonds that held me to Eirik and Fallon.

There, tense, but there. Alive at least, for now. So why did he look so smug? What was I missing?

"Where are my brothers?" I asked, horror siphoning my hope as Archon crossed his hands behind his back.

"All in good time," Archon said, watching me with apt interest. "I believe you asked something else first. Didn't you?"

I wheezed, looking to the ground, unable to keep my head up. His answer didn't come in the form of words, as a hand sank into my hair, forcing my head up as I yelped. The strands snapped, some pulled directly from the root as I was forced to keep my eyes on the Djinn.

"What do I want?" Archon asked, keeping his eyes, that brandished gold, on me. The way he watched, the way he smiled, like he was waiting for me to fill it in myself. "What about I tell you over a game?"

The sinister curl to his words was accented by the power that suddenly lingered in the air. The walls crackled, my chains cinching tight. I didn't have any thoughts beyond how badly it hurt to move. The piercing pain of broken bones and split skin.

"All you have to do is answer a question for me, one simple question," Archon said, raising a finger, wagging it in my face.

A game? The cruel tell in his words told me it wasn't one I'd win. Not as I was now. Not even with a clear mind. You didn't take bets or make deals with Djinn, because it was never something you'd come out on top of.

The next hit from the guard behind me struck somewhere in my spine, my legs going numb before a vicious fire shot down them. I choked, a beg caught behind my teeth. A plea for this to end.

I wasn't the fighter.

"But I don't think you deserve to hear it yet. After all, what fun is it if you don't have to work for your information? It wouldn't be fair to just give it to you," he mused, walking back behind me, the click of his boots against the ground no longer audible, as the guard unloaded another fierce hit. "Or you can hope and plead for Osiris to free you. But he won't come, not soon enough."

My bones shifted under my skin, healing just enough for an ache to settle in them before they broke again.

I couldn't do this.

I couldn't do this.

Osiris had to come, or Fallon and Eirik. I wasn't abandoned here. They would find me. There was no way they wouldn't.

I wasn't the fighter.

"Enjoy your time at Fellow Manor, Collector. Oh, the fun we'll have in the meantime."

My screams followed him out the door.