Page 109 of Silent Schemes

She lets go, then walks to the wooden desk and returns with a knife.

Not a big one—thin, meant for slicing, not stabbing.

Theodore calls out, “Torture him, Sienna. Prove your loyalty.”

The guards hold me, one on each side, but Sienna kneels in front of me and traces the tip of the blade along my jaw.

She presses down, slowly, letting it dig a shallow cut from chin to ear.

The pain is nothing compared to the humiliation, the eyes of a dozen enemies watching as I bleed.

Sienna meets my gaze, just for a second.

Her eyes say nothing.

But her hands are careful, precise.

Each cut is shallow, mapped along nerve lines that hurt like hell but don’t cause real damage.

She’s marking me, not gutting me.

I let the first line of blood roll down my neck, into the collar of my shirt.

She slices a path across my forearm next, right above the tattoo of the reaper holding a chess king.

She hesitates, then presses the blade deeper, carving the tip of the blade just enough to make the reaper’s smile leak red.

She leans in, voice a breath: “Don’t fight when it starts. Let it happen.”

She draws another cut along my ribs, and the pain is electric, but it’s nothing compared to the way she won’t look at me after.

Theodore claps. “Now you see, Bane? No one is loyal in this world. Even the woman you let into your house, your bed, your goddamn life. She’s mine. Always was.”

I spit at him, blood this time, right onto his shoe.

He laughs. “Get this on camera,” he says to one of the guards. “I want everyone in Vancouver to see the King bow.”

The guard lifts a phone, starts filming.

Sienna makes a show of the next cut, this one across my chest, opening the old knife scar Korrin gave me as a kid.

My blood flows, hot and thick.

I see her jaw clench, but she never slows.

She whispers, “I was left no choice. He has Maya.”

It lands like a bullet in my chest. Her sister. The only leverage that could ever make her turn.

I say nothing. Just breathe.

She cuts again, lower, into the meat of my left thigh, just over the femoral artery but careful not to nick it.

The blood sprays in a fan, and the guards hoot.

She wipes the blade on her pant leg, then stands. “He’s ready. Next phase.”

Theodore waves her off. “You did well, Sienna.”