Page 262 of Shadowman
I barely remember what I said to Luthor. Just raving resentment and disdain while rippling with the need to make something happen. If anything, it sounded much more likeLeothan me.
But the part I wasn’t exaggerating about was Velle being at a disadvantage. I just can’t see how he and his men could overpower The Ivory. There’s no defeating the devil.
And if that’s the truth, wouldn’t it make sense to stay in his good graces?
I have no ties to Velle, Joy, or the others. Sure, they seem much more interesting than The Ivory’s dead-eyed soldiers. But if staying on his side keeps Byron and me alive, I’ll do what needs to be done. Even if that means playing the part of the enemy.
Hell, I’ll be the slimy, untrustworthy newcomer. If that’s what they want.
Except that it’s not that simple, apparently. Those people are Byron’s friends. He cares for them, and clearly, they care for him. But they’ve cast him aside…
Because of me.
“No amount of revenge will ever fix you, Trevel… Let him love you broken… Or spend forever alone, looking for a partner in crime who doesn’t exist.”
I cover my face with my hands, growling and crying into my palms.
Sod it all. What am I doing??
Giving up Byron for this? I don’twantthis…
I’m not in love with Lemuel, and I don’t care that he left…
The conversation with Luthor was the last straw. I told him that Byron wanted revenge on Felix… But he doesn’t. He doesn’t need it anymore, and neither do I. Because there’s something so muchbetterhere…
“If it weren’t for Dr. Love… you wouldn’t have met Byron…”
Picking myself up is difficult. I’m so heavy with regret, lightheaded from unnecessary anger. But as soon as I’m standing, I feel sturdy once more. I’m determined.
I rush back down to the tombs, immediately hit by the sounds of my doctor being tortured. It sheets my flesh with chills.
Emerging from the darkness, I wander over to where Hassan and Johansson have Lemuel chained to the wall by his neck, wrists, and ankles. Bag over his head, he’s shirtless, decorated in electrodes and burn marks. They’re using hot pokers—some sort of pain measurement test that seems like overkill.
Of course it is. It’s just torture and humiliation. They stand to gain nothing with this…Nothing but revenge.
The Ivory’srevenge, not mine.
This isn’t for me. I don’t need this.
“You’ll never come first. Your wants, needs… They’ll all take a backseat to his. Because he is all of it.”
“The best revenge is not needing it…”
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Hassan grins, taunting, “Where’s your pretty monster boyfriend, Lemuel? If only he could save you like you saved him… From Templeton. Andme.”
Dr. Love is grumbling, but his words are muffled, most likely by a gag in his mouth.
“I was disappointed that you burst in that day… Before I could finish my experiment,” he goes on, sadistic glee in his eyes turning my stomach. “If only Felix knew how much shit you’ve been taking because of him… He might come out of hiding.”
Johansson flicks on a device and murmurs, “One-sixty.”
He presses a button, and Dr. Love jerks violently.
Electroshock… Jesus.
“Let me,” I grunt, stomping over with my hand out.
They both look up. Hassan steps aside, watching as I grab the long, pointed metal rod he’s been using to burn and pierce Lemuel’s skin.
