Page 17 of King of Ruin

“It’s a yes or no,mo bhanríon.”

“How about fuck you?”

He smirks, his dimple peeking through his light stubble. “I wouldn’t be opposed, though I’m not sure that’s what you mean.”

Kane reaches out for my hands and the moment his fingers brush against my raw wrist, I jerk violently. The rough pads of his skin feel like fire, sending shockwaves of pain down my forearms.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he snaps, grabbing the chain holding me up.

A feeble laugh falls from my mouth and it grows louder as Kane’s brows furrow. A deep line creases between his eyes as he examines my face. It’s such an insult of a statement, yet the hurt look curving his lip downward makes it unbelievably funny. It isn’t just the irony of our entire situation, but the very real idea that he believes his words.

“Onyx.”

My name is sobering, drying my overflowing river of laughter in less than a second. He’s only ever said it twice. Once when the explosion happened, and now. I swallow around the incredulous notion he may actually be serious.

I steel my voice and shake off the knot of emotion trying to swell in my chest. This man is nothing but a liar, and to consider trusting him means death. I refuse to leave this earth without taking the men responsible for my torment with me. “Enough with your games. Take me where you need to and then leave me.”

Kane’s jaw flexes as he steps closer, his woodsy scent invading my nostrils. The heat from his body envelopes mine and though I want nothing more than to close my eyes and deny him access to them, I tilt my face up to his in a challenge. I can’t back down.

A nerve in his neck pulses. “Tell me you hate me.”

I do. You took everything from me and I let you.

I want to kill the man in front of me more than I want my next breath, but the unbearable notion that, even as my enemy, he still feels something, coats me in more doubt. Doubt I’ve never had to worry about before him, and it’s because of that, I hate myself more. I feel…weak.

It must be the lack of food and water that has my internal ramblings anything less than murderous. But the deep ache in my heart tells me there’s something much more to it.

By the time I realize a lone tear has escaped the corner of my eye, Kane sweeps it away before it’s halfway down my cheek. “I wish you knew. Understood.”

Finally, my resentment of him, us, and everything that’s transpired over the course of the last ten years, bubbles to the surface, forcing me to look away. I find a stain of blood splatter and focus on it as Kane unhooks my cuffs and locks me onto the new, thicker chain.

The pain is hot at first, the skin tender despite my constant adjustments and keeping my weight from bearing down too much. But as the blood rushes into the limbs, tingles that feel like electricity radiate through my arms, and I have to bite into my cheek to keep quiet.

To my surprise, he doesn’t hold on to my new restraints but instead, checks that they’re secure and tucks his hands into his pockets, along with the key. Then, he turns toward the door, expecting me to follow behind.

He knows I’m too feeble at this point to pose a real threat and that irritates my soul. Between Antonio and Trigger, I’ve always been taught to shield any discomfort, vulnerability, or fatigue no matter how great. Yet here I am, nothing more than a weak pile of bones and flesh without even the dignity to put up a fight.

The last bit of energy I have surges to the forefront, and without a rational thought, I lunge.

Even with the additional weight of the chains, I manage to wrap my arms around his neck, and use all my body weight to pull it taut against his windpipe. His muscles tense beneath me, and I jerk to the side just before his elbow juts back.

Hosting myself up, I lock my legs around him and tug harder on the metal. Kane loses his balance and takes a wide step back. One hand latches onto the outside of my thigh while the other reaches for the metal digging into his neck.

“Come now, Kane. I thought you’d be into breath play.”

He doesn’t respond but instead lashes back and forth. Not wildly, as if to harm me but enough to shake me off. Pair that with his tight hold around on my leg to keep me steady, and now I’m fuming with anger. He’s trying to prove that even while I’m trying to kill him like some rabid dog on my last wind, he won’t hurt me.

A fire erupts in my veins, and I squeeze all my limbs contracting around him.

I am not some damsel in distress.

I am not someone who needs to be protected.

I am beyond death.

I am the end.

His end. Just like I will be his father’s.

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