Page 68 of The Merciless

“I didn’t come here forAngel,”Raylene said incredulously as if she were talking to a child, making him stumble on his words yet fucking again. She blinked, and shook in the man’s hands, muffling her laugh, “I came here foryou,stupid man.And your partner.”

She leaned closer, looming over him despite his advantage in height over her.

Watching her now though…with the sheer ice in her expression despite her smile, Martin couldn’t move away. Not when she had clearmurderwritten in her eyes.

“You took something from me, Martin.” She purred, and chills erupted on his arm, “You really shouldn’t have killed Alessandro. Shouldn’t havehurtmy people. Shouldn’t have taken Angel De Santos.”

She looked up and down, her lips dipping into a slight frown as she stared back at him, “And yet I’m not here forhim.I’m here for you.” She grinned again, “I’m here toburnyou and your partner to the ground.”

Raylene leaned closer to his ear, a mere whisper in her words, “I did it years back easily. I can do it today.” She veered back and winked at him, “Kind, aren’t I?”

“Take her away,” Martin growled, the shaking in his bones beginning.Dear God, “Take her away now!”

Raylene was still laughing when his men hauled her away to the arena for tonight. Was still grinning when he dragged a hand down his face and looked up at the white ceiling. Prayed a little bit maybe.

Because Raylene Walker was now backed into a fucking corner.

* *

Angel coughed, the wretched action digging out his lungs as he braced his palms flat against the ground and tried to push himself up. For thethirdtime in the past half hour. At least hethoughtit was half an hour. He’d never been great at keeping count. Or patient. But he still tried. Despite the deep burning of his blood or the aching of his bones, he still tried.

Because judging by the loudthudhe’d heard mere minutes back, something was happening upstairs. Something important. Something that could involve Raylene Walker.

Angel pushed himself on his palms with a pained grunt, his eyes shut in concentration.Christ,his bones weighed down like lead as he pushed himself up.

Got barely up to his elbows when they snapped abruptly, and he fell face flat on the floor. His world spun constantly, the movement nauseating enough for him to turn on his side.

Angel braced a tired hand against his forehead, his fingers balling into fists in an attempt to get his mind to stop spinning. The nausea, the lump in his throat only rose though. Angel forced himself to blink his eyes open, squinting in the grey darkness of the rotten place. The walls were all dripping with water, the sounds hissing against its harsh surface. He had his ear pressed to the floor in an attempt to catch any other voices, any other sounds. But apart from thethudfrom before, there was nothing.

He'd have to force the damned poison out of his stomach,he thought and braced his palm against the wet floor. A part of him wanted to recoil away from the water, the grim walls of the prison, but he didn’t have that privilege now. By someone’s grace, the place didn’t stink to the point of torture. The odor wasn’t pleasant by normal standards – it reeked of soiled concrete andwood,but it was bearable. It was all he could hope for.

He pushed himself up on the palm of his hand and placed his weight on his elbow, grunting at the sudden wave of dizziness washing over him–

Angel’s world turned, his eyes going into the back of his skull as he lost whatever balance he’d gained and fell back with a loudsplash.The action came with its own nauseating repercussions, with the shot of pain down his wounded arm and the pounding of his fucking head.

All thanks to whatever poison he’d ingested.

“Fuck.”He murmured and took a second. A breath.

And turned to his side again. Trying the same thing. His focus on the task at hand was so honed to perfection that he barely noticed the shadow that loomed at the entrance of the prison he’d been sitting in.

Not until the soft voice echoed through the dark place.

“Won’t work.”

Angel froze through the haze in his mind, the movement leaving behind a faintringingin his ears.

The voice was female but unfamiliar. Hadn’t been even remotely close to the one he’d been expecting. Angel grit his teeth, his hands balling into fists as he slid his leg up and finally,finallypushed himself upright. His eyes widened as his body swayed back, threatening to fall. Angel scrambled to the ground and righted himself, not yet looking at the woman up ahead. He couldn’t deal with bad surprises anymore.

But then the woman sighed, and he heard her faint footstep near the rotten metal of the prison that kept him inside and heard her sigh deeply.

“Estás envenenado.”You are poisoned.

Angel blinked. Martin had forbidden any other language other than English in this household. He knew it was because of Isabella, because deep down, somewhere in that twisted heart, Martin had loved his mother back. So, he’d wiped every trace of her. Including her language. His head snapped up, his eyes widening with the rush of adrenaline,

“Quién,”Angel breathed, the action burning his lungs but giving him some strength,“Quién es usted?”Who are you?

It was still too dark to see, and her figure was hidden in the shadows of the dark hallway. From where he was sitting, she seemed about average height, something wary about her stance gave away that she might be older than he was.

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