Page 75 of Surface Scratch
It’s not him. Danger.Marcus froze in place as he watched the three dots dance across the screen. Then an image popped up.
He noticed the bright red blood first, stark against the dull metal tray that took up most of the image. Then there was the tooth sitting in the puddle of blood, bits of gum and nerve ending attached to the root. It was broken, as though it had cracked during extraction.
“Dad.” Ophelia got up so quickly she knocked over her can of seltzer. She shoved her phone at him, zooming in on the background.
It was blurry, but there was clearly a lithe man in nothing but his boxers strapped to a chair, his arms behind his back in a stress position Marcus was more than familiar with. He didn’t need a clearer image to make out who it was. The discoloration along his shoulder and the top of his arm was a dead giveaway.
“Caleb.”
His horror boiled into rage in his veins, his beast clawing at the inside of his ribcage to get out.
The phone buzzed in his hand again as he jolted up.
Caleb: Come alone or he dies.
Marcus snarled as he squeezed the phone, the glass screen cracking in his hand before the rest of the phone’s material gave way and crumbled into a mess of metal and glass.
Someone was certainly going to die today.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Caleb had thought he knew pain. Getting his burned flesh scrubbed away, his face healing after the accident, the bone-deep ache of being hit and kicked and punched and strangled over the last month had acquainted him with a buffet of different types of pain. He’d thought he could handle anything.
He was very wrong.
His shoulders were screaming at him as they remained locked in place, pulled back over the top of the chair and held in position by zip ties. At least he couldn’t feel the pins and needles pain in his hands anymore, the circulation having been cut off completely. His mouth was another issue, blood and saliva dripping from his swollen lips, the left side of his jaw throbbing.
The dank concrete walls had smelled mildewy when they first took the bag off his head, but a few swift punches from the woman, Raquel, filled his nostrils with blood and made the smell vanish quickly. Caleb didn’t recognize the building they were in, but a few electric lanterns illuminated the room, revealing layer after layer of graffiti and rotting vines seeping through the cracks in the walls.
Whatever the abandoned building they had decided to set up their makeshift torture room in was, he didn’t recognize it, meaning even if he did get away, he would be lost and running in only a pair of boxers.
“Andrew, go make sure the others are ready, we don’t know for sure he’s going to come alone,” Henderson said. The gray-haired man fiddled with Caleb’s extracted tooth on the tray.
“I need to ask him something first,” Andrew said softly, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he leaned against the door.
Caleb looked up through the hair hanging over his eyes, his neck muscles feeling like they were straining and popping against the taut muscles in his shoulders and back. Andrew had stood there silently as Henderson ripped his molar out, his face made of stone and his eyes still filled with the same fury as before. He knew if he tried to speak again he would just get hit, so he stayed silent, his mouth open so he wouldn’t swallow any more blood.
“Where is my cousin?” Andrew asked as he slowly approached. “I know they did something to him.”
Caleb glared at him. He was tempted yell at him, to demand to know how long he had been aligned with the Society. Had all his kindness and friendship just been a way to get at Marcus?
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Caleb said. His body shivered uncontrollably against his restraints, a mixture of cold and terror making the pain in his shoulders worse.
“Finally, he speaks,” Henderson said. He lit a cigarette and nodded at Andrew. “Two minutes, then you go join the others.”
Andrew bent down in front of him, his eyes, filled with a mixture of anger and sadness, level with Caleb’s. “I saw three of them leaving his house, and all we found was a puddle of blood on the carpet. I know you were there with them and that bitch.” His face twitched as he spoke, despite how calmly he said the words, like he could barely contain his rage.
Caleb lowered his eyes. Images of V choking on his own blood filled his mind, but the memory was distant, vague almost. Like he had seen it in a movie as opposed to taking part in it. Maybe it was the cold or the pain, but in that moment, for the first time, he didn’t care that V was dead. He just didn’t want Andrew to know what he knew.
“I know they probably made you do terrible things, but we’re here to help you,” Andrew said gently. He placed his hand on Caleb’s knee. “I just want to know what happened to Ichtaca. He’s the only family I have left.”
Andrew’s hand on his bare skin felt too hot. Foreign. Anger burned like acid in Caleb’s veins and he spat a mouthful of blood at him. “Don’t touch me!” he snapped, jerking hard against his restraints.
Nick’s fingers dug into the fresh bite wound on his collar. “Don’t do that, or we’ll put the bag back on you,” he said casually, like he was discussing the weather.
What the fuck did they do to you?
Caleb winced as Andrew slammed his fist against his kneecap. “Just tell me!”
