Page 49 of Ricochet
I always tried to understand his pain, the lies he was fed that clouded his mind. But how could a person promise his eternal love to you and then break your trust and your heart? I wanted to justify his actions, to try and find those little pieces of him I loved so much, but with every passing day, it became harder and harder to remember them. When my anger took over instead of the helplessness I felt, I knew we would be chasing each other until the end of our time.
They threw me into the darkness and expected me to find peace. They didn’t expect me to survive, but I did. I came out smarter, better… What didn’t kill me made me stronger. When every single person abandoned me, leaving me to my own devices, I became the darkness they all feared so much.
I became the dragon they thought I would never be.
He made me bleed, the wound on my cheek stinging with every movement I made. It wasn’t the first time, and it sure as hell won’t be the last. The cold I felt before was replaced with the fury emanating from my soul, spreading heat throughout my body.
Anger is the best fuel, at least that’s what I’ve heard people say. He thought fucking me into submission would be the way to go. Silly little monster, he didn’t know that his demons didn’t scare me anymore. They were child’s play compared to the things I’ve seen over the last four years.
The things they taught us were nothing compared to the depravity I saw. It didn’t matter if you were old or young—the people I met would fuck you up and destroy the humanity you were born with. The world I was born into was full of privileges for people like me, but that one… They didn’t give a fuck. The strongest ones survived, and the weak ones got eaten. The rules of the wilderness.
I felt sore, and I had no doubt that the idiot made me bleed in more places than just my cheek. After his little game, he just walked out of the room, leaving me half naked and completely exposed. My panties were ruined, the shirt was above my breasts and if I craned my neck, I could see the two symmetrical cuts he left above my tattoo.
My reminder.
My crown of fucking thorns.
I started shaking my head as if the motion would help me erase the memories of a different time. During my training, they told me to forget, to detach myself, and I did. But they never told me about the ghosts haunting you during the dark of the night when all of the distractions were away, when all you could think of were the people you destroyed. And you would do it again, and again and again. And you wouldn’t stop.
I couldn’t stop.
I clutched the ropes with my hands, trying to pull myself higher. My neck was pained from the position I was in, and my mouth was parched from the lack of water I hadn’t had in God knows how long. My back screamed in pain as the chains on my legs pulled tighter with the small movement I made.
“Fuck,” I groaned, my throat burning from the lack of water. I looked to my left at the open door Kieran had walked through. If I only managed to release one of my hands, I’d be able to do the same to the other one, as well as my legs.
I craned my neck and scanned the headboard the ropes were attached to. Taking a deep breath, I started yanking the ropes, thanking all of the possible gods and goddesses that they didn’t tie it tightly.
One...
Two...
Three.
The headboard hit the wall with each and every pull, but these fuckers bought beds with sturdy headboards. The little hoops my ropes were tied through just rattled against it, but the headboard didn’t break.
“God fucking dammit.”
“You need some help there?” I froze and slowly turned toward the sound of a new voice. The youngest Nightingale, Tristan, stood there with a smile gracing his face. Of course all of this would be extremely satisfying for all of them. Seeing me tied, naked, bloody, I guess I was just happy it wasn’t Cillian who came to visit me.
“What are you doing here, Tristan?” I let go of the ropes, the pain ricocheting through my wrists. I needed to stretch or kill something.
I was leaning toward the second option.
“I came to see how you’re doing, of course.” Cheeky son of a bitch. “And,” he came closer, “I came to take you to the bathroom.”
“You want to take me to the bathroom?” I asked with skepticism in my voice. “How fucking generous of you.”
“Oh, birdy, don’t be like that.” The bed dipped as he sat next to me. “Wasn’t I always your favorite one?”
He was, until he wasn’t anymore, until he chained me to the wall and refused to believe me.
“Are we feeling sentimental, Tristan? You want me to hug you and kiss your boo-boos?” The smile disappeared almost instantly. “Do you want to know why you were my favorite one?”
He inched closer, his eyes flickering over my body. “Do tell, birdy.”
“Because you were the weakest one.” I moved my butt further away from him. “Because no matter what, you could never live up to the name your brothers created. Kieran was the calculating one, always on the lookout, always thinking about his next step. Cillian was the psychopath, a fellow loose end, and he never minded killing whoever stood in his way. But you...” I swallowed as his gaze clashed with mine. “You were nothing but a good little soldier. I could always use you, and abuse you, and you would never even know.”
“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?” He traced his thumb over my cut cheek and pressed into the still bleeding wound. A moan escaped my mouth, when all I wanted to do was scream at him, but I wasn’t going to give him that.
