Page 136 of Depravity

I can’t move. I just lay there, where I was tossed in like trash.

It’s freezing cold. It’s pitch black too.

I know my father left right after Xavier had my tongue cut out. I know they argued, the guards wouldn’t shut up about it.

And then Xavier had me thrown down here, had me locked away. Apparently, he got sick of my screaming, even after he removed my tongue.

I make that same gurgling noise, the one that pisses him off. Only, thankfully no one now can hear me in this cold darkness.

My nose wrinkles as I smell the stench of my own shit. I’m naked, lying in it. But with my legs as useless as they are, I don’t have the strength to even crawl away from it.

Ingrid doesn’t come down here.

No one comes down here.

I know Xavier is punishing me, that this is his method of trying to fix me.

But I’m sick of being broken.

Why am I never good enough? Why must I always have to change, have to bend, have to be moulded to fit them?

He wasn’t lying.

We did apparently have a deal.

It’s been two hours since I called him, and here we are. The bastard must have known the whole time. I narrow my eyes, trying to work out not for the first time how deep he was in the Esau before he turned tail.

He meets my gaze head on, with that arrogant smirk. God, I’m pleased he’s on our side and not against us.

As the girl is dragged in, she starts kicking and screaming. I don’t know where he found her, but she was ‘snooping around’ according to Antonio.

But I know her face. I’ve seen her a few times in my home.

“You?” I say, though I don’t know her name. They had people in my house? No wonder it was so damned easy to get to Brynn. I guess I should be grateful she wasn’t taken sooner.

She sneers back at me before spitting. “Scum,” as if she thinks she’s better than me.

“Watch your mouth,” Antonio barks.

“Watch yours, traitor,” She replies, and that makes me laugh.

“You’re a servant,” I state. “Lowest of the low. The only thing worse than you, are the whores we have here in Oblivion.”

She stares at me, as if she wants to say something boastful but doesn’t dare.

“Where is Brynn Blake?” Antonio asks.

She bristles, more at the sound of my surname than anything else.

“Where is my wife?” I snarl, grabbing her by the throat. My fingers dig delightfully into her flesh and I tighten them around her oesophagus, feeling all the ribbed bits of muscle contracting.

She gasps for a second, her eyes filling with hate. “She’s not your wife,” She says, “Your marriage wasn’t properly sanctified…”

Oh please, they’re trying that one. Like I need a sanctified union. Neither of us are so senior in rank that the Council has to have a say.

“You don’t know, do you?” She cackles.

“Know what?” Antonio asks.

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