Page 30 of Bellamy
Alastair expected me to throw away my life to save Bellamy. And I couldn’t. Doing so would make me Asa’s enemy. But I was also an enemy of the Nephilim brothers. I’d be cast out with nowhere to go. Not much of a choice. I was fucked no matter what.
Another scream pierced the air.
My vision blurred.
Belphegor had been toying with Bellamy’s mind almost relentlessly. When the fallen angel needed to rest, he had sent in Purah to torture Bellamy physically. He hadn’t chopped off anything—yet—but Purah had stabbed, burned, and cut him. He had used regular blades, not celestial, so it hurt Bellamy—and gods, did it hurt him—but it wouldn’t leave permanent damage.
The magic cuffs prevented him from healing himself. So he suffered. A lot.
My role was to wait for Belphegor to leave the cell and then pop in to play caretaker.
As Bellamy yelled again, his voice broke.
What was Belphegor making him see? When Purah tortured Bellamy, he had growled in pain, but he hadn’t screamed like he was now. I felt sick as another broken yell came from the room. A tear escaped the corner of my eye.
I hastily wiped it away just as the cell door opened.
“Give him a moment,” Belphegor told me with no emotion. “If you try to speak with him right now, he won’t even know you’re in the room.”
“What did you do to him?”
“I did what I had to.”
“Did you get the location?”
“No. He’s stronger than expected. But he’s on the verge of collapse. His mind is the weakest it’s been. By tomorrow morning, he’ll be broken beyond repair.” His expression was just as cold as the stone his heavy boots stepped on as he walked away.
Disregarding his advice, I went straight for the door and entered the cell.
Bellamy was strapped to the chair, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide. Tears stained his cheeks. He didn’t move as I approached him. He barely even blinked.
“Hey, you,” I said, my voice shaking.
He didn’t react. He just stared at the ceiling. Quiet whimpers rumbled in his throat. I couldn’t stop it. More tears welled in my eyes, and my chest got so tight it was hard to breathe.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, petting the top of his blond hair. When he whimpered again, my soul cracked into a million tiny fragments.
Bellamy stood for everything I despised. A self-righteous tough guy with a hero complex. Stupid too. Because only a fool would sacrifice everything to save a world that wouldn’t care one bit if he died in this dirty prison.
The world didn’t deserve his protection.
The world didn’t deservehim.
I didn’t either.
My healing powers weren’t as strong as his, but I healed the wounds on his chest, ones left over from Purah’s playtime earlier. I freed his legs from their restraints and did the same to his arms. He still wore the cuffs, and his wrists bled from where the metal had scraped his skin. I healed that too.
Bellamy slowly blinked before focusing on me. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. His hazel eyes glistened and looked dazed. He was here with me, but he was somewhere else too. Wherever Belphegor had sent him.
“How does a hot bath sound? And some food?”
He blinked again. His bottom lip trembled.
Yeah, I hated hero types like him and his brothers. But what I hated more was seeing someone as strong and beautiful as Bellamy so damn close to breaking. The fire inside him had diminished.
That hot iron poker jabbed at my ribs again.
I slipped an arm behind him before thinking of the room in the castle that had been set up for him and teleporting us there. Once in the bathroom, I started him a hot bath and discarded his bloodstained jeans. He watched me as I helped him into the tub.
