Page 72 of Merciless Prince
He was delusional if he thought I’d ever give up my friends. Even if he held a gun to my head and clicked off the safety, I still wouldn’t tell him a thing.
He stood up and took a few steps back, eyes remaining fixed on me. “I’ve been nice to you so far, considering the circumstances. But I’m—”
Before he could get the rest of his sentence out, another plaintive shriek echoed through the cavernous dungeon. I jerked in surprise, making my chain clank again.
Killian grinned at the fearful expression on my face. “Does that scare you, Shay? Knowing that you’ll be next?” he asked. He knelt in front of me again, wicked grin widening. Then he leaned in close, sending shivers down my spine as his hot breath coasted over my ear. “I can’t wait to hear you scream.”
A blend of sickness and rage coiled in my belly. I wanted to rip his throat out with my teeth and smash his head on the floor until his brain splattered all over the place. I couldn’t touch him, though, soI decided to strike at him in another way instead. Hit him right where it hurt in an emotional sense.
“You know, I’m really not surprised your mother abandoned you,” I said, looking right into his eyes. “She could probably tell you were going to turn out like this. A psychotic fucking monster.”
The muscles in Killian’s jaw ticked, and his eyes flickered with something I couldn’t pinpoint. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said in a low voice.
His expression wasn’t giving much away, but the cold fury dripping from his tone told me I was on the right track.
“Actually, Iknow exactly what I’m talking about,” I said, sitting up straighter. “Everyone knows she ditched you, Killian. Couldn’t stand the sight of you. I guess that’s why you hate women so much now; enough to do shit like this. Severe mommy issues.” I paused and cocked my head slightly to the side. “It’s pretty pathetic, if you ask me. Have you ever considered therapy?”
One of my friends had filled me in on the scandalous story at Raymond Knight’s birthday party after I noticed that Killian didn’t look anything like the rest of his family. They were all fair and blonde, while he was dark-haired and olive-skinned. The only similarity he shared with any of them was his striking blue eyes.
Apparently, his mother was a famous model named Allison Quinn. She married Hugh Knight in the early nineties and had two sons with him—Lachlan and Connor. Their marriage was tumultuous due to her frequent affairs, and then one day, she left without a word.
Hugh was shattered by her departure, because he loved her dearly in spite of all the infidelities. When she suddenly showed up again eighteen months later, he took her back without question, even though she had a five-month-old baby with her.
The baby clearly wasn’t his because he hadn’t seen Allison in so long, but he didn’t care. He loved her too much to be angry, and he told her he would raise the boy as his own along with their other two sons. He didn’t even ask who the biological father was. All he cared about was keeping his family together.
It didn’t last long.
A few weeks later, Allison left again, and this time it was for good. According to the friend who told me the story, she left a note saying she couldn’t deal with the new baby anymore. After she was gone, she never saw or spoke to her family again.
I knew it was a cruel thing to bring up, because Killian’s childhood had probably been markedly affected by his mother’s absence—which he would have blamed himself for—but right now I didn’t care. I wanted to make him feel like shit. He fucking deserved it for everything he’d done to me.Sick fuck.
He stared at me for a moment, chest rising and falling with short, controlled breaths. Then he turned and walked away without a word.
Damn.I expected more of a reaction than that. A slap across the face, at least, or a jolt from the stun gun.
Maybe he was all talk. Maybe he was never actually going to torture me at all, because he assumed the threat of it would be enough to make me spill my friends’ names to him.
My bravado instantly faded when I recalled the screams I heard from the other side of the dungeon. Peopledidget tortured down here by the Hellfire Club, and I was going to be next. Perhaps it wasn’t such a great idea to talk shit about Killian’s mother after all.
Then again, according to him, he was going to hurt me either way, because I refused to tell him who I was with in my hidey-hole above the grotto that fateful night three months ago. So, no matter what I said or did, my only options in this freezing-cold hellhole were pain and death. There was no way out. No hope at escape.
I sank down to the floor and rested my back against the pillar, eyes scrunching shut. A moment later, footsteps echoed through the space.
Killian was back.
There was a clunking sound as he dropped something on the ground in a spot where it was too dark for me to see. Then he strode back over to me, holding a large hunting knife in his right hand.
Goosebumps cropped up on my skin as I stared at the gleaming blade. It hung perilously close to my neck, making my heart hammer so fast it hurt.
“Get up,” Killian said. As he spoke, he slipped his free hand in his pocket and produced a key. He tossed it toward me. “Use this to undo the cuff.”
I picked up the tarnished key with trembling hands and stared at it, wondering if it was even real. “Are you letting me go?”
He let out a derisive snort. “What the fuck do you think?”
That was a no.
I leaned down to free my foot from the cuff and chain. Then I lifted myself up and stood by the pillar, trying valiantly to stop myself from shaking. I didn’t want to give Killian the satisfaction of knowing how terrified I was.
