Page 193 of Ravaged Soul

Gracie drops her gaze to stare at the dirty concrete. “Years of my life… Gone.”

“I’m sorry.” My apology sounds weak, irrelevant.

Curling her knees up to her chest, she covers the torn, white sundress that barely covers her modesty. Like the rest of her, it’s bloodstained and streaked with all manner of filth. I can still make out the twisted skin that warps her inner elbow.

777.

A brand matching my own.

Three numbers dooming us both.

“We’re not going to die in here,” I announce, stretching myself out the best I can. “When they return, stay quiet and behind me. I’ll handle it.”

“You can’t take them, Ember!”

Little does she know, fighting was my punishment instead of disgusting parties.

With some careful manoeuvring, I manage to position myself in a crouch. My feet are tucked beneath my butt, allowing me to spring up at a moment’s notice. I’m flexing my knuckles to alleviate the tingles when a loud bang echoes from elsewhere.

More shouting. Another bang. The voices spar in a passionate torrent. I don’t know who is outside the door to this room, but it doesn’t sound like a particularly happy conversation.

“Stay back,” I warn her.

“Ember… Please. We should just go with them.”

“Forget it. You’re going home.”

More crashing escalates my heart rate. I’m counting my inhales and exhales to hold my nerve when thudding footsteps near, drawing closer to us. With a final look at Axel, I focus on the door that hides our captors.

CRASH.

It slams back against the wall loud enough to make Gracie cower in the corner of our cage. I don’t flinch. The heavy-set, finely dressed stature of none other than Antonio Gael doesn’t deserve to enjoy that sight.

His razor-sharp, yellowing eyes crawl over my skin like fire ants, taking in the details that have changed. He smiles thinly, adjusting the thick gold signet ring that encircles his pinkie finger.

“You look well, 768.”

“Señor Gael.” I keep my reply short and clipped.

“I had wondered what it would feel like to look into those traitorous eyes again.” He steps into the room, forehead wrinkling. “You’ve caused great pain to my business these past few months.”

“I like to think so.”

“Quite.”

Gael spares Axel a disinterested look, too occupied with studying me like I’m a piece of regurgitated meat that now turns his stomach.

“I imagined how I’d take you over my knee and crack your spine myself. Or have my men hold you down while I slice that back open with my whip again. Perhaps I’d even cut your wicked tongue free and make you eat it for daring to humiliate me. Really, the possibilities are endless.”

Behind me, Gracie bursts into tears.

“I hear this one went for a pretty penny.” Gael motions towards her.

“Didn’t fancy expanding your own collection?”

“Jealous, 768?” He sneers. “Nobody could ever fill your shoes.”

“Jealousy is the furthest thing from what I feel.”