Page 94 of Tainted Souls
The pendant flutters slightly in my hand, its warmth oppressive, as if it heard him.
He strides over to a nearby drawer and opens it with deliberate calm. When he turns back around, a slender blade glints in his hand.
Adrenaline surges through me, priming me to react. For a second, I think he might stab me right then and there.
“Get up,” he says, gesturing. “I’m going to need you to remove that tracker inside of you.”
I stiffen. “What tracker?”
An enigmatic smile forms on his lips, almost reaching his narrowing eyes. “How do you think we knew where to find you? Sure, the signal was abysmal underground, but there were times when it became clear enough to pinpoint your location. Who knew technology could be this useful?”
“You’d need the device receiving its signal for that. How did you get your hands on it?” The mere thought unsettles me, but I wouldn’t be surprised. “Did you kill them?”
“They were already dead.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“How unfortunate.”
He moves close enough to be within arm’s reach, the knife’s handle pointed directly at me. “It’s your choice. Remove it voluntarily, or I’ll do it for you. One option is considerably less painful.”
I weigh my options. The tracker is my only lifeline to Redmoore, to potential rescue, to escape from this horrid place. Without it, I’m truly alone among enemies. Part of me wants to fight back, to give him the worst of it, but I know too well what he’s capable of. And I know all too well I’m famished, exhausted, and without a weapon. There’s no winning against him, especially not right now.
Grudgingly, I roll up my sleeve, take the knife from his hands, and make a small incision over the tracker. Blood wells up immediately, but I ignore it, pressing my fingers against thewound until the tiny metal chip emerges. It’s more miniature than I remembered, barely the size of my pinky nail, pulsing a faint blue glow. He takes it from my bloodied fingers, surveying it briefly before crushing it with no further regard. The light dies with a tiny spark, the fragments scattering onto the floor.
Fighting back tears of despair, I press my sleeve against the wound to staunch the bleeding. “You could’ve intervened before I was dragged underground, as you’ve done twice before now. Why didn’t you? Why wait until the last minute? To make some kind of point? To proveyouare the bigger monster?” My voice breaks into a bitter laugh. “Or were you just too scared to face Cain head-on?”
His expression remains a mask of indifference, as if my words are merely passing air currents. “Strategy isn’t cowardice,” he says, turning to walk toward the fireplace and placing the knife on the mantel. “Cain expected another interception, precisely because we have done it twice before. What he was not prepared for was your brother infiltrating his ranks or us tracking your signal. Sometimes the longer path is the only viable one.”
“Peopledied.”
His fingers tap against the edge, his back still to me. “Yes, and?”
My chest tightens, rage spilling into accusation. “Does it help you sleep at night?” I let the silence hang, daring him to answer. “Knowing you let others suffer while you play your long game?”
“I sleep quite fine.” He turns back to face me. “The real question is whether their deaths served a purpose or were merely wasted.”
His callousness should shock me, but somehow it doesn’t.
“And what purpose didmysuffering serve?” My jaw is clenched so hard it hurts.
“Nothing, it seems.” He steps closer, towering over me. “Perhaps a little more would finally teach you humility.”
It takes every ounce of my will to hold his stare, but I do—because it takes more to let him see me break. “Lessons learned from monsters aren’t worth remembering.”
He studies me for a long moment, as if weighing whether to coerce or crush. Then, the barest hint of amusement tugs at his mouth. “You don’t have to remember. Your body will.”
My hands clench at my sides, firelight flickering between us. I bite back the questions that would betray my fear, forcing something practical to the surface instead. “What’s your plan? Keep me here until you find a way to defeat Cain?”
He leans slightly, poised like a coiled spring—calm, but capable of striking at a moment’s notice. “You make it sound like a punishment, waiting in comfort while others bleed to keep you alive.”
“It is.” The words come flat, honest. “Because I never asked for it.”
He lets out a short, humorless scoff, his eyes sliding to the side. “Go cry about it to your brother. He’s the reason you’re still breathing.” He dips his head, not to meet me, but to remind me how far above me he stands. His breath brushes my cheek, as though sharing a secret, but it’s clearly a threat: “Though, ask nicely, and I’ll hand you to Cain myself.”
The words hit and I freeze, my spine locking as every muscle draws tight, refusing him the satisfaction of a flinch.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, stepping back at last, as if my stillness has confirmed everything he wanted to know. He then strides toward the exit, flicking a hand in careless dismissal, making it clear I’m not worth any further argument. Before I can say a word, the door has already closed behind him.
