Page 54 of Flame and Fury

The idea of five men tying me to a table sounds like a lot of fun, but in reality, it’s not even a little enjoyable. Lying back, I fight my instinct to launch myself into a fight. I could easily headbutt Goon Number One, break Goon Two’s nose with my foot, twist Goon Three’s pinkie until it breaks, and finish off Goon Four with a nut punch. I wouldn’t even break a sweat. With a sigh, I turn my head to the side and find Lark nervously biting her nails. I offer up a small smile, but her forehead furrows with worry.

I can’t see Grima, as he’s blocked by the four bodyguards, but I hear him moving around above my head. I picture his movements with each sound; the clink of the brand, the hiss of a torch being turned on. Honestly, the worst part is waiting.

“Move her shirt.” Grima hisses the command, and Goon Two obediently tugs the collar of my tank top down. I’m wearing a sports bra, but I don’t like this man’s hand anywhere near my breasts. Where the hell is Grima going to brand me?Lark’s is on her forearm.I still have a bandage on the right side of my chest just below my collarbone from the bullet wound.

“Hold her head back.”

Goon One roughly grabs my chin and yanks my head back, making my back bow off the table. I get a look at Grima holding a fiery red brand. My straps are tightened once more, holding down my chest, stomach, hips, thighs, and ankles. My arms are confined as well. My Fury is screaming inside me, hating that we aren’t putting all these assholes in their place.

Long game. I chant that in my head over and over.

Goon Two steps out of the way, and Grima takes his place. Greasy strands of his hair fall forward as he looms over me. Does the man ever take a fucking shower?

“This may sting a little.” Grima’s laugh sounds like hissing snakes.

I don’t take my eyes off the maggot as he lowers the brand right at the top of my sternum. He couldn’t have picked a fleshier part of my body. Because fuck, there’s not a lot of meat for that fucking iron to cut through on my upper chest.

No. I bet Nathaniel wanted it somewhere visible if I wear anything with even a modest V-neck.

Grima stops with the brand a mere inch from my skin.

“You’re the girl from the street, with those stupid brats.” His face contorts, and then he hisses in pain. I guess he forgot about his broken nose. Too bad he didn’t forget my face.

“I’ll make sure this is nice and deep.”

The sizzle of the brand touching my skin reaches my ears before the pain registers. It’s an excruciating flash, a fire so scorching it confuses my senses. It’s cold and hot at once and then it’s just agony. The worst part, though, is the smell. It’s a choking cologne of burnt flesh and seared skin belonging to me. I gag, making my chest heave, which only increases the pain.

My new least favorite person pulls the brand away, taking a layer of skin with it. I bite down on my lip, my fingers digging into the padded table so hard I poke holes through the fake leather. Gods, that’s a disgusting feeling.

Grima smiles down at me, a happy malevolence twinkling in his eyes. “Now you’ll never forget who you belong to.”

I focus on breathing instead of ripping his eyeballs out of the sockets and stomping on the beady little things until they squish under my boot. As if he senses the direction of my thoughts, his smile fades. He blinks rapidly and takes a step back. I slowly grin at him, but with as many teeth as I’m showing, it probably looks more like a threat. It should.

With an urgency he didn’t have before, Grima gathers his equipment and scurries out of the room like a little rat. The four giants untie me once he’s gone. Goon Three tosses a bag in my direction, and I only just catch it before it hits my ravaged flesh. The hired muscle leaves the room with a slammed door, quickly followed by the click of a lock keeping me and Lark trapped inside.

I lie on my back. Getting my Fury under control is almost as hard as waiting for the pain to fade. I breathe out a long, controlled breath when, really, I want to scream and rage. Lark is up off her cot and at my side before I finish exhaling.

“I’m not even going to ask if you’re okay because, well…” she shrugs one shoulder.

Lark understands. She has her own brand from Nathaniel, who’s decided he can claim ownership over us. Sick fuck.

Lark gently removes the bag from my stomach and sets it on the table near my hip. She unzips it and sorts through the contents. After a few seconds of digging around, she pulls out some bandages, ointment, and a package of cleansing cloths.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t going to feel good, but I want to get it cleaned up and bandaged.” Lark cringes as she opens the package.

“I’m good. You don’t have to do it.” I reach out to grab the supplies from her, but she swats my hand away.

“Just let me.” Lark’s eyes drift from the brand up to my face. “Do you ever let anyone help you?”

She’s so damn sweet and good-natured. Even when she asks a prying question it’s hard to be mad because she has such good intentions.

I drop my arms back at my sides and let her clean the burn. “I’ve been a solo act for a while. It’s hard to let someone else get up on stage with you.”

Lark smiles, huffing out a small laugh. I already feel my skin healing and fighting to get rid of this disgusting mark.Although between the hole through my side and the Hydra poisoned bullet wound, it’s going to take longer than usual.

“Even Otis Carmine has backup singers.” Lark grins as she dots the ointment around the burn and applies the bandage.

I’m barely upright before the door opens once more. Great, what now?

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