Page 140 of Bonds of Pain
I lean forward, pressing my face closer to the cold metal. “What went wrong is that I have a functioning brain, you sick fuck.”
His laugh is sharp. “Intelligence was never the issue, my dear. Though none would think you’d be smart enough to accept your place in the natural order, rather than suffer uselessly.”
“Natural order?” I scoff, rage building in my chest like a furnace. “Is that what you call forcing yourself on captive women?”
Thane’s expression shifts, something darker flickering behind his eyes. “You think this is about sexual gratification? How pedestrian.” He picks up another instrument, examining its edge with scientific precision. “My interest in you was always purely academic.”
The lie is so obvious it makes me laugh. “Academic? Is that what you called it when you stripped me down and tied me to a table?”
“I sought to optimize your potential?—“
“You wanted me for yourself,” I interrupt, letting silk creep into my voice. “That’s what this has always been about, hasn’t it? Your wounded ego because I escaped before you could finally have me inallthe ways you want.”
Thane goes very still, the instrument frozen in his grip. A muscle ticks in his jaw.
“Must have made you so angry,” I continue, pressing my advantage, “when you discovered I’d been bonded. All that work, all that time invested, and another man got to have what you’d been preparing for yourself.”
“Enough,” he snaps, but I can see I’ve struck a nerve.
“Speaking of abominations,” he says, his voice regaining its clinical detachment, “this bond you’ve formed with another Omega who was already bonded to an Alpha…it shouldn’t be possible according to every text ever written on designation biology.”
I feel a cold smile spread across my lips. “Maybe your textbooks are wrong. Maybe there’s a lot you don’t understand about what you’ve created.”
Thane’s eyes narrow, studying me with renewed interest. “Perhaps. But that’s precisely why you’re both so valuable to my research.”
He returns to Cillian, the scalpel glinting as he raises it once more. “Two anomalous Omegas, bonded in ways that defy conventional understanding. The data you’ll provide will revolutionize everything we know about designation genetics.”
Cillian’s scream echoes through the lab again, and I feel something inside me break.
A surge of emotion crashes through the bond I thought was dead—not pain this time, but something fiercer. Rage. Pure, molten fury that burns so hot it makes me gasp.
But it’s not coming from Cillian.
“You’re right about one thing,” I say, my voice steady now, empty of the fear Thane so desperately wants to hear. “Logan won’t come for us. He’s exactly what you said, a spoiled prince who values his crown above everything else.”
Thane looks pleased by this admission. “Finally, you begin to see reason.”
Through the bond, I feel a distant roar of violence approaching like a freight train. Logan’s fury, no longer contained, rushing toward us with the force of a natural disaster.
But if the bond isn’t dead yet, then it will be soon and Cillian along with it.
Thane adjusts his grip on the scalpel, angling it toward Cillian’s throat. “Interesting. It appears your friend has passed out. Good, the screaming was starting to grate on my nerves.”
I glance at Cillian’s still form, searching for any sign of consciousness. His chest rises and falls in shallow, irregular breaths, but his eyes remain closed. The monitors attached to his body beep erratically, their rhythm chaotic.
But I swear I see his fingers twitch. Just barely. So subtle I might have imagined it.
And then I remember what he once said about what he would do to break himself out of restraints.
“You know,” I say, my voice taking on a sultry quality that makes Thane pause, “maybe you should keep me for yourself after all.”
The Inquisitor’s eyebrows rise slightly. “The offer is tempting,” he admits, setting the scalpel down to study me with renewed interest. “But you’ll say anything to save yourself. How very predictable.”
I shift in my cage, pressing closer to the bars, letting my voice drop to that breathy whisper the Enclave taught us drives Alphas to distraction. “What’s so wrong with that? Isn’t a healthysense of self-preservation what you’d expect from your ideal specimen?”
His clinical gaze travels over my form appraisingly. “Perhaps.”
“Put the scalpel down,” I purr, arching my back slightly despite the confines of the cage. “Let me prove it to you. You don’t even have to unlock the cage.”
