Page 43 of Wild Bond

Borden squinted in the dim light and Rake took a step closer. “Maybe—yes. Yes, I think so. But I . . . I didn’t get a close look at it. But yes, it could have been a ring like that."

Rake’s face went slightly ashen. I instantly wondered at the significance of the ring and why Rake’s was similar.

“What color was the ring? Was it gold or silver?” Rake questioned, urgency in his tone.

Borden shrugged and coughed. “I can’t remember. Silver, maybe? As I said, it was just a glance.”

Lowering his hand and clutching the ring in his fist, something ticked in Rake’s jaw. After a moment of silence that felt too heavy, Rake cleared his expression of all emotion, back to that impenetrable mask. When he changed the subject again, I wondered if it was some kind of interrogation tactic.

“Where have you been, Borden?” he asked softly.

The man had begun breathing hard, as if he had just run a mile, and once more shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a lie, Borden,” Rake accused, voice still smooth as silk. “How can you not know where you’ve been for over a month?”

“You don’t understand,” he pleaded desperately. “I don’t remember. I can’t remember anything after I delivered the chains. It’s foggy . . .”

Rake’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Where did you deliver the chains?”

Borden took in a gasping breath of air. “We received a message that someone would pick up the order just outside the eastern city gate. It was the middle of the day, so I didn’t think anything of it when I volunteered to make the delivery. But when I arrived, no one was there to meet me. Then . . . then I think I was struck from behind, and I can’t—I can’t remember . . .” He swallowed hard. “Next thing I knew, I woke up in the street. My wrists were bleeding and rubbed raw like—like I had been chained. And I didn’t—don’t feel right. I haven’t since . . .” His eyes took on that slightly glazed look again. “I close my eyes and smell rotten smoke and hear crying . . . a woman’s voice . . .”

There was a long silence, and when Borden didn’t go on, I cleared my throat. “Borden, why do they have you bound? Are you here against your will?”

Rake glanced at me, but he didn’t stop my line of questioning.

“No,” Borden gasped out, suddenly looking like he was in pain as a spasm wracked his entire body. When he got control of himself again, he continued in a rasping voice, “I—I asked them to.”

Confusion swept through me. “You asked them to tie you up? Why?”

Another shudder wracked him, and I could see foam gathering at the corners of his mouth. His giant arms bulged as if he was tugging at the restraints. The chair creaked beneath him.

“Rin,” Rake’s voice was low and held a warning as he watched the man closely.

I sent him a look that said I could see for myself that something was wrong. “Borden, why did you ask to be tied up?” I repeated.

The man’s head thrashed from side to side and his chest rose and fell rapidly with how hard he was breathing. “Not . . . safe,” he gritted out.

So, he was afraid of himself? Of what he might do? Was the man truly insane and having some kind of episode before our eyes? I mean, he was obviously ill, but from what? Did wherever he’d been taken have something to do with his current state? Had something been done to him?

Before I got a chance to ask any of these questions, the man lurched forward, nearly coming out of his chair. In an instant, Rake was in front of me with a dagger drawn and angled in the thrashing man’s direction.

I was about to remind Rake that I could defend myself, and he didn’t need to jump in front of me like I was some helpless maiden from the old tales, when Borden suddenly let out a ferocious roar that didn’t sound human.

I glanced to him and for the first time noticed what looked to be visible red veins pulsing under his skin. They extended down his arms and up from the neckline of his shirt. It reminded me of something I had seen once. A homeless man who worked one of the market street corners had come down with an infection of the blood. Just before he died, his veins had looked like that.

Borden’s back arched. He let out another gurgling shout, and foam dripped down the sides of his mouth. “It hurts!” he cried, agony plain on his features.

Then his eyes rolled back in his head and his entire body went limp in the restraints. He gave one last guttural sigh and went still.

We stood there in shock for a moment before I stammered stupidly, “He’s—he’s dead.”

Rake said nothing as he moved closer to Borden’s now lifeless frame. He gave the man a once-over, likely memorizing every detail of what he saw.

I heard a noise outside in the corridor.

“We should go,” I said, gulping past the lump in my throat. Someone had to have heard Borden’s screams.

Rake looked at me and nodded just as the door opened.

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