Page 107 of Wrongfully Magicked
At least for now.
At the first opportunity, I’m going to hunt the fucker down. There won’t be a server on the planet where he’ll be able to hide that I won’t find him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ANITA
Igrunt when Stuart’s fist plows into the tender side of my ribs, the blow stealing the oxygen from my lungs. Determined not to give in to the pain, I straighten and wheeze as I struggle to take my next breath.
The guards watch the beating like it’s a show, and I’m committed to keeping up my part of the performance. Without breaking eye contact with Stuart, I lean to the side and spit a glob of blood to the floor. “You hit like a girl. Are you sure you don’t want to have your minions take over?”
I barely finish speaking before his knuckles crack across my face, splitting open my brow. Pain explodes across my cheekbone, but I quickly push it to the side, the discomfort more of an annoyance. Though it’s been a few years, my body remembers the regular beatings and welcomes the pain like an old friend.
The key is not to dwell on it.
Accept it, then focus on what comes next.
After twenty minutes, my body is liberally covered with bruises, but thanks to my warning, Stuart is careful not to break anything…not yet anyway. Heck, my clothes are barely even stained with blood, but it’s only a matter of time. When I don’t crack, Stuart is bound to lose his temper, then the real fun will begin, and they’ll break out the knives and other torture devices.
Unfortunately, my powers are much stronger now, and they refuse to be contained. My family’s attempts to force my powers to manifest are finally working. With each blow, my fires rage hotter, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it repressed.
The magic restricting cuffs are helping, but they aren’t keeping up. Despite the frost decorating my wrists and the ice slowly creeping up my arms, a soft glow gradually brightens the chains.
It’s too soon.
Soren hasn’t found the contract yet.
I need to keep them distracted longer.
A fist sends my head whipping to the side, and I don’t immediately straighten, allowing my hair to cover my face and hide my conflicting emotions. While I would love nothing more than to burn everyone in the room to a crisp, we need that contract or all of this will be for nothing.
As blood drips off my face, I remain unfazed by the brutality, the metallic smell as familiar to me as my own scent. Knowing it will aggravate Stuart more, I let out an amused chuckle, then roll my head back on my shoulders and smirk up at the douchebag. “Dude, I mean, are you even trying?”
It’s all I can do not to look at my men, not wanting to draw attention to them. Stuart and his soldiers are so focused on me that they forgot their existence.
Insanity darkens Stuart’s expression, giving him an almost monstrous appearance. I find it ironic that while my familydetests beastlings, they are the ones who act more like feral animals.
Stuart always hated that he could never break me. I think that’s what actually made me his target. If I would have just bowed to him, I would have been dismissed as one of the many meek little sheep. Unfortunately, submitting is just not part of my nature.
Breathing heavily, Stuart takes off his jacket with jerky movements, then turns toward his desk. He once more picks up his penknife, which is more knife than letter opener, then heads toward me with a deranged smile.
Knowing what’s coming, I instinctively pull on the chains binding me, then still when they actually begin to stretch.
Fuck!
The guys better hurry, or the jig will be up soon.
As the knife nears, my powers react, and it feels like my bones are being replaced by molten lava. I grit my teeth, then curse when it looks like floating embers are lighting up my skin from beneath.
Stuart is oblivious, not stopping until he’s standing in front of me once more with a smirk, completely unaware of the danger. “Not so cocky now, are we?”
He presses the tip of the knife against my cheek. I wait for the agony as he cuts into my flesh, only something much worse happens.
The tip of the metal heats, then glows cherry red. I’m unable to pull my eyes away as metal beads at the tip, then drips from the blade like a drop of water. The room falls silent, everyone seeming to hold their breath when it happens again.
Before the second drop can land, Stuart curses and throws the heated blade across the room with a clatter. He looks down at the burn seared into his palm and grimaces.
“What the fuck?” one of the guards behind me whispers, then hastily steps back.
