Page 54 of Crossbones
Malik moves out of my line of sight. I close my eyes, every muscle tense. I inhale deeply, preparing to go to that place in my mind where nothing hurts.
“Caspian,” Blackwell growls.
“Shut up, Blackwell,” I mutter.
If he thinks I’m going to break under duress he’s sorely mistaken. The whip lands and I jolt against the chains, my muscles tense hard with the pain.
“The location, Caspian,” Malik barks.
“Caspian, look at me.”
“Unless you’re telling me the location of Grythmoor, shut the fuck up, Stormbreaker,” Malik says.
“I hope I get to watch Caspian kill you,” Blackwell snarls. “Slowly, so we can both savor it. Caspian, look at me!”
Despite wanting to ignore him, his demand is visceral. I open my eyes and glance at him just in time for the next blow to land and my rage ignites.
“Fuck you, Malik!” I snarl, struggling against the chains. “I’m not telling you a fucking thing!”
As much as I don’t want to admit it, Blackwell’s gaze holds me, the intensity grounding me. He’s giving me the fuel that I need to withstand the next few lashes. I’m panting now, each blow a white-hot knife through my composure.
“Tell me where, Caspian,” Malik demands.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I say around my ragged breathing.
I can feel him getting more violent with each crack of the whip and the room starts to blur around the edges. I hang my head, no longer able to keep it up enough to hold Blackwell’s gaze.
I’m tired—so, so tired. The agony pulls hard at me, drowning me, wanting me to give up and let it take me away. I resist—
Malik is still yelling at me but I tune him out. It doesn’t matter how many times he hits me, I’m not breaking. I’m not the boy he abused all those years ago.
I eventually lose count of what number Malik is on. I hang from the chains, not even feeling the metal cut into my wrists. He’ll get tired soon. He always does—
I must have blacked out for a minute because the next thing I know, I’m falling. The ground rushes up to meet me with the slither of chains across rock. I collapse into a heap with a groan, fighting each painful inhale. I vaguely hear the sound of the cell door shutting, and footsteps. I hear my name—it has to be Blackwell calling me. But I don’t have the energy to even lift my head. I can’t fight it anymore, I sink into the darkness, thankful that at least the pain can’t follow me there.
JAMES
If I wasn’t holding the bars so tight, my hands would be shaking. It’s been at least a few hours, and the vision of Malik standing behind Caspian is forever burned into my mind, along with the hungry look of a man who was enjoying every second of pain he was inflicting.
I’m going to remember this. I’m going to remember this so I can make him pay.
I’m still trying to catch my breath—the anger I feel inside me is nearly overwhelming to the point I can’t sit still. Caspian is lying in a heap where they dropped him, blood still running down his back.
I felt helpless, watching—not able to do anything but try to convey to him he wasn’t alone.
I’ve been alternating between pacing the bars and watching him, willing him to wake up. When I finally do hear a groan from him, it sends a rush through me.
“Caspian.”
He slowly drags himself to the back wall and leans his shoulder against it. I follow along the bars but he doesn’t look at me. He drags his knees up and buries his head in his hands. I don’t know what to say, so I slide down and sit with my back to him, trying to occupy my thoughts.
I’m about an hour into an elaborate escape plan I’ve put together in my head when I hear the clink of chains behind me, and his voice brings me back to the present. It’s strained but it’s a hell of a lot better than silence.
“Truth for a truth, Captain.”
I want to scoff at the ridiculousness of that right now but instead I stay silent, waiting for him to go on.
“Will you tell me what my family did to you?”
