Page 77 of Eternal

And before I can process the words, I answer. “Yes. It’s too easy.”

Soren smirks. “Tristan, I want you to admit you raped her and beat her senselessly becauseyouare the one who is a failure.”

Tristan pants and I can tell he’s about to pass out from the blood loss.

“Soren, do you have anything to keep him awake? He’s going to pass out.”

Soren turns back to the cart and returns with a needle, sticking him in the neck with it before breaking it off in him. He takes a step back and admires his handiwork, waiting for the medicine to kick in. Approaching me, Soren pulls me into his arms. The darkness dancing in his eyes, now softening as he holds me close to him.

“Are you okay?” He asks, stroking my hair, smearing blood into it.

I nod. “I’m okay.” He presses a kiss to my forehead and holds me closer to him. “I want a turn still too, you know,” I murmured into his chest.

“Frey--”

“No. I need this, Soren. I need to let it out.” I pull away from him.

Dismay is spread across his face, but it slowly becomes a smile. “Together,” He whispers, pressing his forehead to mine.

And for a moment, I forget Tristan is there with us until he lets out a groan. Soren moves to him, wrapping his stump of an arm up to help the blood loss. To keep him alive for just a little longer.

I pick up a pair of channel locks and clamp down on his index finger.

“I want to play a game, Tristan,” I whisper into his ear.

He’s delirious from the blood loss and the medication keeping him alive. “What’s the game?”

“It’s calledMercy. Remember this game as a kid?” He doesn’t respond. “I’ll bend your finger really far back until you scream mercy. And when you do. Well, let’s see when we get there.”

I suck in a breath, standing this close, and the taste of blood that lingers in the air hits my tongue. It’s vile. I bend his finger up, his finger bending to the point where it takes more force to push it back.

“Mercy! Mercy!” Tristan screams out.

I pause for a moment. “That’s where it is for you? Okay. How about here?”

I push further down, and he screams as his finger turns to a 30-degree angle. The wrong way.

“You psychotic cunt! Mercy! Stop!!” Tristan is squirming. Hard.

I grin and look at Soren as he leans against one of the many toolboxes lining a wall. “Psychotic cunt. That’s new.”

“Do you want me to cut his tongue out, darling?” He asks, holding up a scalpel.

I flash him a smile. “No, I want to play a little longer.”

“As you wish, baby.”

I turn my attention back to Tristan’s form. He’s crying now.

I get in his face and mock him, fake crying. “Awe. Does that hurt? Did you want me to stop? I’ll stop, but you need to do one thing.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” He spits in my face.

Anger rolls through me like a tsunami, and I’m about to wipe him out. In retaliation, I bend his finger all the way back, bone popping out of place and breaking through his skin.

The scream he lets out this time brings a smile to my face. I repeat the process for the next finger.

“I want you to admit you hurt me.”

---