Page 115 of Bones
“She’s doin’ this on purpose,” Mac said in a low voice. “She knows you’re not healed enough.”
“I figured,” I muttered.
“I don’t know how to help without hurting you.”
I looked up at him. He fidgeted where he stood, his eyes darting between me and the Watchtower. I’d never seen him look so anxious, and it forced me to swallow my pride.
“I’m gonna hurt no matter what. Might as well just get me there.”
“Do you think you could climb on my back?”
“Like a kid?” I hoped I understood him right.
He nodded, turning his back to me and crouching.
I hiked up my skirt, leaned onto him, and wrapped my arms around his neck. It hurt, putting strain on my back. He reached back to loop his arms under my thighs and carefully stood, which hurt worse. I had a sudden memory of Wolf carrying me like this and my eyes burned.
“You ok?” Mac asked.
“Yeah.”
He started moving quickly, and I clenched my jaw shut. Each step sent a stabbing pain through my back, but I refused to make any noise. The walk seemed to take forever, but finally, the watchtower loomed ahead of us. Seeing our destination didn't bring any relief though, and as Mac set me on my feet outside the door, I considered clinging to his neck and begging him to get me out of there.
Instead, I forced myself to take slow painful steps down the stairs to where screams already echoed off the walls.
When we entered the room, I stopped short in the doorway. Mist sat in the chair again, looking gaunt and sobbing. Her blonde hair hung around her face in greasy clumps and blood dripped onto the hay, but she wasn’t the only person there. Hawk, the leader of the other Safeguard crew, stood in chains attached to a hook on the wall.
Madame had her long grey dreads in a knot on top of her head as she cut into Mist’s arm. Hawk strained against his chains, his jaw clenched, and a vein pulsing in his forehead. His wide eyes swung to us, and the flicker of hope that lit in his eyes at the sight of me made me want to die.
“Took your sweet time, Bones,” Madame stated, those cold eyes flicking to me.
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t going to apologize. Her eyes narrowed on me, but then Hawk yanking on his chains distracted her.
“You know you don’t have to watch this,” Madame crooned to Hawk, gesturing at Mist with her bloody knife. “All I need is a name.”
“I’m so…so sorry, Hawk,” Mist sobbed.
I fought the urge to be sick. Was Madame torturing Mist in front of Hawk to try and get him to talk? I'd only had a few interactions with Hawk, but he'd seemed nice enough. Now his bloody face looked anguished. He'd been roughed up, but Mist looked terrible.
“Bones, clean her up,” Madame ordered.
Hawk met my eyes, looking expectant, but I dropped mine to the floor. He didn't know my role here wasn't actually to heal but to prolong the torture session until Madame got bored.
I moved forward and placed my hands on Mist’s bleeding arm. As I healed her, I made the mistake of meeting her gaze. I expected to see hate and fury directed at me, but her hazel eyes only held deep pain and sorrow and a horrible kind of understanding. My eyes welled, tears spilling down my cheeks.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.I thought toward her as I healed her arm.
When I stepped back and Madame stepped forward, her sugary scent wafting over me, the realization dawned across Hawk’s handsome face. His eyes flashed to me, anger and betrayal shining there. I’d expected that look, but it still hurt. I dropped my eyes, feeling so helpless.
“Who did you report to Hawk?” Madame asked.
“Fuck you!” Hawk hissed.
Madame placed her knife against Mist’s chest, just under her shoulder, and slowly pressed. As the sharp knife pierced Mist’s skin, blood began to trickle down her chest. The trickle became a stream as the knife went further in. Madame did it so slowly it must have been agonizing, but Mist just squeezed her eyes shut, breathing through clenched teeth. Madame stopped when the knife was buried almost to the hilt, and then she began to turn it.
A scream ripped out of Mist and Hawk screamed with her. All the blood drained from my face at the sound. My knees buckled and the ground raced up to meet me. Next thing I knew I lay on my side in the bloody straw with Mac crouched next to me.
—“tapped out, Madame,” Mac was saying, his voice even, but I could see the anger in the tight lines of his jaw. “If you want Mist to live, you’ll have to let Bones heal some more.”
