Page 27 of Bonds of Pain
“What did they really want?” she demands.
“I’ve already said I don’t know,” he whines.
“But I think you do,” Maya interrupts, her tone cold and harsh. She tilts the knife upward until he shrieks and the sharp scent of fresh blood fills the air. “A dozen men attacked this palace and left empty-handed. It doesn’t make sense that they’d be smart enough to plan all this without accomplishing anything.” She pauses for effect, hand gripping the knife hilt hard enough to turn her knuckles white. “Unless, we haven’t figured out what they actually wanted yet.”
Darius stares up at her with wild eyes, a match for the shot of adrenaline that shocks my heart. Because I recognize that deer-in-headlights look when I’m questioning someone. He knows something more than he has already told us, a secret big enough that he was willing to be tortured instead of spilling it.
The fear in his eyes is obvious, but Darius keeps his mouth shut as he glares back at her.
Ripping fabric accompanies a slash of the blade as Darius lets out a shriek made up of more surprise than pain. His flaccid dick flops out of the new tear his pants, a shriveled and pink bit of flesh that looks like it wants to disappear right back inside him.
“Uncut, that’s surprising.” Maya says conversationally. “But we can take care of this little flap of skin, no problem.”
Fucking diabolical.
She angles the tip of the blade, so it just barely grazes the tip of his unimpressive manhood.
The smell of piss grows even more pungent. There must not be a single drop left in him from the way it leaks onto the floor.
I watch the fear break across Darius’s face like a wave. The knife trembles in Maya’s hand, and I can see her confidence wavering as she realizes just how far she’s pushed him.
“The Omegas,” he gasps out. “They wanted the Omegas.”
Maya glances back at me, confusion evident in her eyes. I nod for her to continue.
“What do you mean?” she presses, easing the knife back just enough to let him speak.
“I overheard them,” Darius blurts, words tumbling over each other in his haste. “When they were coming through. They kept asking where the harem was. Wanted to know where the palace kept the new Omegas who answered the king’s summons.”
A cold feeling settles in my gut.
“You must be working with some terrible mercenaries,” I observe, keeping my tone casual despite the alarm bells ringing in my head. “They didn’t manage to kidnap a single woman from the palace, not even a smaller than average beta.”
Maya’s scent shifts subtly, taking on a sharper edge as her mind works through the implications. I can almost see the thoughts forming behind her eyes.
“Maybe actually taking an Omega wasn’t the point,” she says slowly. “Maybe they just wanted us to think that’s what they were trying to do.”
The words are accompanied by a burst of shameful awareness. Fuck, she’s right. A failed kidnapping attempt would heighten security around all Omegas in the palace, especiallythose connected to the royal family. It would create a perfect smokescreen for something else entirely.
But what?
I open my mouth to ask another question when I catch a subtle shift in Darius’s posture. The tendons in his neck tighten, his weight redistributes, and his eyes take on a wild, cornered-animal look.
“Maya!” I start to warn, already moving forward.
But I’m too late.
With a desperate roar, Darius launches himself forward, pushing off the floor with his bound feet. The chair tilts with him as his body surges toward Maya. She gasps, but freezes in place instead of backing away from him.
The blade disappears into his gut with a sickening sound, part squelch and part thud. Maya’s eyes widen in surprised horror as she releases the knife, stumbling backward into me. The handle protrudes from Darius’s abdomen, blood already seeping through his shirt.
Darius makes a horrible gurgling sound, more rage than pain. This wasn’t an attempt at assisted suicide, but a last-ditch attack. Even he isn’t stupid enough to think he’d be getting out of this room alive without fighting back. The wound might slow him down, but it won’t kill him.
I shove Maya behind me with one arm while lunging forward with the other. My fingers close around the knife handle, and I wrench it free in a single fluid motion. Blood sprays as I slash it across his throat in a practiced arc.
The cut is deep and precise. A crimson geyser erupts from his neck, spattering across my chest and face. His eyes bulge, mouth working soundlessly as the life drains from him in pulsing waves that match the frantic spurts of blood coming from a heart that doesn’t know its efforts are futile.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
