Page 104 of Heart of a Witch
“My sister is dead because of you. My cousin is also dead because of you. I lost my home, my shop. When you tore out her heart, you took mine too. She was my favorite person, and I loved her with every ounce of my soul. I was meant to protect her.” A tear escaped and trickled down my cheek. “I can never get her back.” My voice croaked, my tone waning. “She deserved a life, a future. She wanted to make fucking perfumes and open her own shop. She dreams, more than you and I.” I swallowed hard, trying to remove the lump in my throat. Goose bumps spread along my arms. “You took everything from me, and now I’m going to take it from you. I’ve been working against you this whole time. You were right about everything: the hexed bag, the succubus, about who me and my family truly are, and your precious town will never know. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of them when you’re locked up—and Corbin. Gods know he needs it after the way you’ve treated him, which is why I brought this.”
I squeezed the leather of the whip in my palm, a smile on my face. Elijah watched from where he sat against the wall, his bloodshot eyes never moving from me.
“Now it’s time to see how good you really are.” The leather creaked when I twirled it in my hand. “If you really care about your son, you’ll allow me to whip you the number of times you whipped Corbin. If you don’t, then I will kill Elijah.” I lied, but I didn’t dare look at him. I had to look convincing so Elijah would believe me. I couldn’t come back from this, but he had to see what his father really was, even at the hand of a witch. “Well, remove your shirt and bend over the chair.”
He swallowed thickly, fear finally clouding his sharp features. To my dismay, he pulled off his shirt. His fingers trembled as he leaned over the splintering wood. His back convulsed before I even landed the first hit. Pulling the whip back, I let it whoosh through the air, not holding anything back. The strings and leather cut into his back, drawing blood on first contact.
I’d never heard a man scream like that. His legs buckled, and he fell to the floor. I lifted the whip again, and he cried out when it slapped against his back, this time harder. Tears fell thick and fast down his cheeks. I moved back for a third, but he pleaded between sobs, sniffing back snot. More dripped down his face.
“Please, no.”
“Twenty more, or Elijah dies.”
“No,” he cried, his voice barely a whisper.
I whipped him again, and his back arched. He stretched out on the ground, a cold sweat breaking out across his body.
“Take him,” he said finally, the words I wanted to hear.
“Louder,” I ordered, but he didn’t budge. I pulled back the whip in warning, and he cowered into a ball.
“Please, no more.”
“Then I’ll kill your son.”
His teeth clenched; he couldn’t even look in Elijah’s direction. “What else do you want?”
“It’s your son or you. A Shaw will pay with their life today. If you want to live, if you want the pain to stop, then you know what to do.”
His shaking, trembling arms failed to lift him from the ground.
“Say it.”
His lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come out.
I brought the whip down on his back again, and he vomited, choking when it came up. “Corbin took far more than this. Now you know how it feels.” I brought the whip back and picked a piece of hanging flesh from the end. “Eighteen more.”
“No.” His dried voice screeched. “Take Elijah.”
“What was that?”
“He’s yours, please.”
I looked at the dark stain on his pants. He’d wet himself. So much for me not being able to beat him. “You willingly exchange your son’s life for your sins?”
“I have no sins,” he said.
Ah, finally, some resolve. I bent down, hissing in his ear. “Lies.” I stood back up. “Do you offer his life as punishment for your sins?”
After a minute, he cried against the vomit, sticky between the floorboard and his cheek. “Yes. Please, make it stop.”
I stepped back and dropped the whip. He cried with relief when I walked toward Elijah. He didn’t cower, like his father, his stare fixated on mine, his jaw hardened. He wasn’t going to make it easy. Elijah would make it so I had to look into his eyes when I took his life. I crouched to place my hand on his chest and released the spell on him. “I won’t kill you.”
I stood. He got to his feet too and looked from me to his beaten father. I held my breath with anxious anticipation. He hated me—that much was obvious—and he knew I was a witch. He reached out, and I didn’t move or fight back. His hand touched my hair, beyond my ear. My eyes trailed his fingers, my heart racing.
“You betrayed me.” The words barely hit me before he turned, leaving me and Damian alone in the room. He didn’t even attempt to beg for his father’s life or try to protect him. At least he didn’t lash out at me, which I had expected, but his words punched like he may as well have.
Damian bawled in the corner, crying, unable to move from his injuries. I wanted to kill him, but I had to stop Elijah first. I’d put Cas and Alex in danger.
