Page 48 of Burdened Bonds
I glare at the two men as the first one stares down at me with a vicious grin.
“On whose orders are you keeping me here?” I snarl.
“The Lord Protector’s.”
I frown. My head smarting with the effort to think. Lord Protector? Who the hell is that?
“If my mother knew–”
“Your mother?” The first soldier chuckles. “You mean the mutt’s whore?”
I smart at the insult, tugging on the chains that bind me, even though I have no strength to give this man a beating.
“She’s dead, little pup. Along with your mutt of a father.”
“D-d-dead?” I stutter, the word sticking in my throat. My mom. My dad. Dead? That can’t be true. This fucker is bullshitting. Trying to provoke me.
“You’re lying,” I growl.
“I’m afraid not,” another voice says, before Christopher Kennedy steps into my cell. His voice is calm yet sinister, and the cold look in his eyes, the calm expression on his face, makes me shudder. “I sent a group of agents to arrestthem both and unfortunately they chose to resist. Most unfortunate. They were killed in the resulting struggle. You have my sympathies.”
He looks anything but sympathetic. In fact, he looks freaking elated, and what feeble magic I have sizzles on my fingertips.
“On what grounds were they arrested?”
Christopher Kennedy steps closer until he’s looking straight down his crooked nose at me.
For a moment, I wonder how he and Tristan could ever be related. His father’s face is always twisted with displeasure. His features sharp and hard. His eyes cold, his demeanor colder still.
“It seems we’ve had enemies hidden among us. Traitors working with the dark forces in the West. Traitors who helped them launch that attack – an attack we only just averted by the skin of our teeth.”
“My parents are not traitors.”
“Were,” Christopher Kennedy corrects. “And they were. All werebeasts are traitors – abominations to our kind. The chancellor was a fool to ever let you live among us.” He sneers at me. “I am no such fool. I will not allow it.”
“What the f–”
“You’ll be remaining here, Moreau, locked up where you can not harm our people, where you cannot consort with our enemies.”
“Remain? You can’t do this.”
“I can,” he says. “I’m in charge now.”
“But Tristan – he’ll tell you – I’m no enemy, no spy, no danger.”
“No danger?” he scoffs. “You attacked seven of my men who were simply trying to detain you.”
“They attacked me,” I growl.
“But I also hear you attacked a pupil at the academy. A poor defenseless girl.”
“I … I …” My gaze drops to the floor in shame.
“See, you are a danger. Probably even to yourself. Here is where you belong and here is where you will stay. Be thankful you haven’t met the same demise as your traitorous parents.”
Shame mixes with the pain and bile rises in my throat. Is he right? Is this where I belong, locked away where I can’t hurt anyone?
“Why did you attack Rhianna Blackwaters, Moreau?”
