Page 196 of Adam
“Please, let him go,” I wail, the words ripping out of me as I collapse to my knees on the floor.
I don’t remember deciding to kneel. My legs just stopped holding me. Maybe they shoved me down. Maybe my body just gave up trying to stay standing while he dies in front of me.
My father had his men drag him, Judas, Cain, and Wes and chain them up, kneeling on the ground.
They tied him to that fucking chair—strapped his arms down so hard his wrists turned purple.
And then they got creative.
They didn’t just clip the wire on. No. They pierced him with it.
Shoved into the thick of his shoulder like they were trying to mount him on the chair, not just hurt him.
There’s blood all over him, smeared down his chest, pooling under the chair. He twitches when he breathes. He winces when the wire shifts. And every time that sadistic bastard presses the button, he convulses so violently I think his spine’s going to snap.
He built him into the fucking circuit.
And I’m standing useless, watching the man I love be torn apart with every fucking breath.
That’s when fear crushes into me again, and it feels violent and suffocating. The fear of losing him rots through every thought. The fear of him dying because of me.
He jerks against the chair again, his muscles locking, his teeth bared around a sound he won’t let out.
And that smell … Oh, that horrible smell. Burning dust. Ozone. Something metallic and … blood.
I can’t breathe.
“Stop,” I hear myself say, but it comes out thin. The girl I always was.
My father doesn’t even look at me. He watches him. Watches the way his body fights the current like it’s personal entertainment.
“Please,” I try again. “I’ll come back. I’ll do whatever you want.”
That makes him glance at me.
“Isabella, no,” Adam pants, exhausted.
“No,” he says calmly, almost amused. “Now, it’s personal.”
Another switch flips.
His body bows off the chair. A strangled sound finally tears out of him, and something inside my chest tears with it.
“I don’t want you anymore,” my father says.
“Then let him go,” I say, tears finally streaming down my cheeks.
He watches me cry, the sound clearly irritating him. His mouth twists with disgust. He steps closer slowly, savoring the moment. His eyes drag over me with disappointment.
“You thought this would end with begging?” he says, voice low. “You still don’t understand who I am. Whoyouare.Whatyou are.”
Adam’s head lolls forward, then he starts laughing, spit and blood running down his chin. “I’m going to carve you open and make you watch what falls out,” he rasps.
Father snorts under his breath, annoyed more than threatened, and presses the button again just to shut him up. The current slams through Adam, and his body jerks against the restraints.
“Pathetic,” Father mutters. “This is the man you threw everything away for.”
“Stop it!” I wail. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
