“Do me a favor, Kane,” I rasped, my mouth dry as a bone. “Tell him that when you see him.”
Kane smirked. “You’ve gotten old.”
“I’m still younger than you.”
“True.” Kane nodded. “But I will live longer.”
I almost laughed. It would have felt good to let the sound slip loose, cut through the thick air and remind us that some part of me was still alive under all this dust and dread. But I didn’t. I couldn’t give him the satisfaction—or myself the comfort. Instead, I watched the dull light catch on the chipped edge of the table between us. Kane’s hands, always steady, drummed a lazy, arrhythmic beat. He studied me with that old, faded gaze—like he was looking at a photo from a war we’d both forgotten how to name.
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, August,” he said, voice low, almost kind.
I pulled in a breath that tasted of regret and old secrets. “I suppose, but it’s my choice.”
For a second, the ghost of a smile flickered across his face, quickly swallowed by the shadows stretching from the window. “Are you really willing to die for your secrets?”
I didn’t answer. There wasn’t much left to say between us, not after everything I’d lost. We’d lost. In the silence, I heard the distant thrum of engines—maybe the Golden Skulls, maybesomething worse. Whatever waited at the end of this night, I would face it alone.
Kane stood, pushing the chair back with a scrape that echoed like a warning. He looked at me, not quite meeting my eyes. “Good luck, August.”
And then he was gone, as his boots faded back up the stairs until they disappeared altogether. The air felt thinner, and I let the silence settle again, heavy and complete, before my world shifted beneath my feet once more.
Minutes later, the door opened again.
Only this time it wasn’t him.
It was Zephyr. A bastard in his own right, but just as deadly as Kane. Moving the small table and chair out of the way, I said nothing as he took off his cut and laid it on the table. He rolled up his sleeves, tsking as he looked at me.
“Alright, August. Ready for round three?”
Scoffing, I chuckled. “Hell, I thought we were past three already.”
“You think this is a joke?” he sneered. “Maybe I’ve been too nice. But don’t worry, I’ll have you fucking talking before the night is through.”
“Don’t count on it,” I spat, glaring at the son of a bitch.
Zephyr moved with practiced ease, his years of experience showing in the fluidity of his motions. He retrieved a knife, its blade glinting in the dull light, and placed it on the table with a thud. The sound echoed through the room, a foreboding percussion to the violence that was about to unfold. The iron, too, was readied, its heat a sinister promise of the pain to come.
“Last chance, August,” Zephyr said, his voice carrying a weight of finality. “Save yourself some pain and tell me what I want to know.” His words were loaded, heavy with threat.
I met his gaze, my expression unwavering. I knew he would not understand that my silence was my choice and my burdento bear. “You know I can’t do that,” I replied, my voice steady despite the fear that threatened to consume me. “You can cut me, burn me, break me... but I will never talk.”
My heart raced as I spoke, but my mind was clear.
This was my choice, and I would see it through to the end.
Zephyr’s eyes narrowed, a mix of frustration and something akin to admiration flickering across his face. He was used to breaking people, but I was proving to be an exception. With a snarl, he grabbed the knife, its blade glinting menacingly in the dim light. “Your loyalty is impressive. I’ll give you that. But it won’t save you from me.”
I said nothing, my silence a defiance that hung heavy in the air. He lunged, and I felt the sharp bite of the blade. Pain seared through me, a white-hot poker against my skin.
I gritted my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a scream.
“Talk, damn you!” Zephyr hissed, his breath hot against my face. “Tell me what I want to know, and it will stop.”
I could feel the warmth of my blood, a stark contrast to the icy tendrils of fear that gripped my heart. My silence was my shield, my only protection against the truth I guarded so fiercely. “Never,” I whispered through clenched teeth.
“Then you leave me no choice.” The knife came down again, and this time, I welcomed the darkness.
Time became an abstract concept as Zephyr continued his brutal interrogation. My body was a roadmap of pain, each cut and burn a testament to my stubborn silence. But my mind remained clear, focused on the reason for my endurance. I would protect her, no matter the cost to myself. Her secrets would stay buried, and she would be free once Montana found her. It was a minor comfort as I hovered at the edge of consciousness, my body’s way of escaping the torment. But I clung to that purpose, knowing that my sacrifice was not in vain.