Page 49 of Fangs
Madame had obviously cut these into his skin with care, and that was worse. The lines were precise and thin, cutting just enough to leave a scar but not enough to leave large wounds—enough to cause pain without a ton of blood. I could practically track her improvement at it across his back. It was so viciouslydeliberate. I’d noticed Madame’s skill with a knife in the dungeon. She never hacked at people, always cutting with steady, practiced movements—now I knew what sort of practice she’d done.
“Well, it’s not really fair if I insist you be honest about how you’re feelin’ if I’m not willing to do the same,” Mac sighed.
He had intense tan lines on his neck and arms, and I realized I’d never seen him without his shirt. Most people removed their shirts when they were working outside in the heat, but Mac never did. I’d never thought twice about it, but now I understood why.
“How old were you when she started doin’ this?” I asked, my fingers pausing on one of the older scars.
“I’m guessin’ Trey told you about my dad?” he asked, and I nodded. “I was seven when he died. I didn’t know he was leadin’ a rebellion. He kept it all secret so he wouldn’t implicate me, but after he passed, Madame threw me in a cell for a few days.” He paused. “The one you were in.”
The horrible, pressing darkness flashed through my mind, making my skin crawl.
“I was so fuckin’ scared. Madame came and visited me several times a day, and sometimes she was nice, almost like a mother, but other times…” I could only see his profile as he stared at the wall, but the muscles in his face were tense. “Other times, she came in with a couple of her men and had them hold me down so she could carve up my back.”
“Why didn’t anyone stop her?” Fury caught fire in my chest.
“No one knew. Madame did a good job puttin’ on an act in front of the hold, presenting herself as someone who wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done for the good of the hold. I was too young to remember, but a gang of raiders blackmailed the previous leader, and for a while, a whole host of raiders moved in and did whatever they wanted. Madame took over by force but framed it like saving the hold. She executed all the raiders terrorizing the people, and everyone was grateful for it.”
My fingers were still moving gently across his back, but I wasn’t really examining the scars anymore so much as I was just…touching him and trying to provide comfort.
“But then people who disagreed with her started disappearing. She started enforcing strict rules like curfews and limiting food. Her late partner Viper would go out with a crew and return with crates of weapons and more men. Suddenly, she had a small army. I know it sounds real obvious in hindsight, but my dad always said when water heats up slowly, a frog doesn’t even know it’s bein’ boiled to death until it’s too late.”
I grimaced at the comparison, but I understood it.
“I never liked her, but I never would’ve guessed she could be like she was under the watchtower—cruel and unhinged.” He turned to give me a grim smile. “As you well know.”
I dropped my hands from his back and balled them into tight fists in my lap. He scanned my face with a frown.
“What’s goin’ on in that head?” he asked, buttoning his shirt back up.
“I’m feelin’ a lot less guilty I killed her,” I muttered.
He blinked. “You felt guilty?”
I tried to push away the memory of how it’d felt to slash that knife through Madame’s neck, how the blood had sprayed, and the awful noise she made. “I don’t…I don’tlikekillin’ people.” My skin prickled as I remembered the look on his face when he came and got me from Nemo. “And you were so mad.”
“Bones,” he snapped, “I wasn’t mad ’cause you killed her.”
I glanced up at him, furrowing my brow slightly. He stared at me, his eyes intense.
“I was mad you took that risk all by yourself. You didn’t let any of us help you. You sent Griz on a wild goose chase to get him out of the way, for fuck’s sake.”
I blinked in surprise.
His eyes narrowed. “Did you seriously think I was mad at you for killin’ her?”
“I don’t know, youalwaysseem mad at me,” I muttered.
“Only when you throw yourself in front of every threat like you’re the size of Griz.” He gave me a stern look, but his eyes looked lighter. “You’re not, by the way.”
I rolled my eyes, and his lips twitched up. I took a drink of broth, and he studied his clasped hands. When he cleared his throat, I glanced back up at him. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense.
“I lost my best friend, my brother,” his voice sounded rough, “and I don’t want to lose you, too.”
The emotion in his eyes startled me. It was like quicksand—if I stepped in, I’d never get back out. Feeling like a coward, I dropped my gaze to my hands.
“Bones,” he sounded irritated, “will you stop lookin’ so surprised I care about what happens to you?”
I felt my face heat again. “I will when you stop glarin’ at me all the time.”
