Page 113 of Psycho Gods

Again he smirked. “Am I clear?

“Crystal.”

He rubbed his hands together as he turned to leave. “Glad we could have this chat. Like usual, if you tell anyone about this situation, you and everyone you care for will be tortured beyond recognition.”

He stared into my eyes like he was trying to read my mind.

Inside my head was a vast black lake, and if he tried to step a toe inside the waters, he’d drown.

A part of me wanted him to try.

Breaking eye contact, he shook his head and said, “You’re the only person in centuries who has dared to challenge me.” He smirked like he knew something I didn’t, like he was complimenting me on my strength.

Blood poured down my nose as my nails scraped against concrete.

I didn’t feel strong.

I felt like broken glass, shattered across the floor.

Dick opened the door.

“Wait,” I blurted out, and he stopped but didn’t turn to look at me as frigid air wafted into the room.

For a split second, his side profile changed into something marble-esque. He looked like a familiar statue.

Dick’s ruddy features returned, and I blinked rapidly.

Snowflakes blasted against my skin as the room’s temperature dropped further.

“Why take one cuff off now?” I asked. “Why not wait until there are fewer soldiers? Why do this now? What do you know about the war?”

Dick left without another word, and the door swung closed.

Outside, I glimpsed a towering figure in a dark cloak. Their blue eyes glowed like lightning and were staring directly at me. They always accompanied him.

The door slammed shut.

I slid down onto the floor. For a long moment, I lay panting as shock permeated my bones. The silence surrounded me.

Cradling my throbbing face, I acknowledged that Nietzsche would be satisfied.

The abyss had gazed back into me.

And it hurt.

Warren started when he returned a few minutes later and found me dejectedly sprawled out.

He swore and fell to his knees as he snarled, “They can’t keep fucking hurting you like this. We have to tell the others.”

He knew I was tortured at night and sometimes people paid me a visit, but he didn’t know it was Dick. He didn’t know the cloaked figure was usually present. He didn’t know anything that mattered.

Secrets stood between my life and his death.

Because of what I was, everyone I knew was at risk.

“No,” I said as he wiped blood off my face with a wet washcloth. “We’ll tell them I tripped and fell.”

The shifter frowned, but he didn’t argue as he carried me back to my bed. He gently put down a sandwich from the cafeteria.