Page 76 of Ruthless Moon
We haven’t lost him yet.
Fight.
I sit up in the bed and look straight at Aiden, who’s standing next to Lila.
He meets my gaze and his body tenses. “Gen?”
“I know how to get into the house.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When Hope Is the Only Thing Left
LIAM O’CONNOR
Pain is my whole universe, a relentless agony that permeates every inch of my body. Each moment is punctuated by the strain on my wrists and the cruel tease of gravity. The cold, slippery concrete beneath my bare toes offers little respite as I dangle from the ceiling like a condemned man.
Which I am. Oliver has no intention of allowing me to survive.
My body swings, oscillating between summoning the dwindling strength to lift myself and giving in to overwhelming exhaustion. The strain on my wrists is an insistent burn.
Oliver’s voice, laced with malicious triumph, bounces off the damp concrete walls, seeping into my bones. “Aiden cut and run with her. Didn’t marry her. Thinks he can change my plans because of a stupid magickal connection between you and Imogen.”
His laughter is a guttural sound that crawls across my skin. “It’s all for nothing. And your brother died for it.”
Bastard. Kill.My wolf is angry. Vengeful.I feel the same, but I can barely draw a breath.
Oliver’s face looms close, his breath hot and acrid on my skin. Each spoken word sends a moist spray across my face, but I’m too far gone to summon the energy to turn away. My body is burned from hot lights, weak from blood loss, and broken from physical brutality. My wolf is the only reason I’m not dead. But the healing can only go so fast and for so long.
“I win. I always win.” Oliver’s words slither into my ears. “Your pack will pay for its disobedience and lies just like your brother already paid.”
Jackson.I’ll never be able to unsee the life fading from my brother’s eyes.
He wants me to respond, but I can’t speak, let alone resist. My swollen face is like hardening plaster, crackling with each slight movement. I can’t open my eyes. Each breath I draw is an agonizing challenge, a harsh reminder that I won’t last much longer. My wolf is pushing, clawing from the inside, desperately attempting to heal my body enough to keep it from shutting down.
Oliver’s fist connects with my ribs. Pain explodes in my chest. I let out an involuntary cry as something inside me shatters. A new wave of agony spreads, hot and searing, radiating from my chest. I cough, each spasm producing a sickeningly warm, coppery flood from between my lips.
Steps echo from across the room. Someone else is joining us in the dungeon.
“Oliver. What in Fate’s—” Meredith’s voice stalls, likely from the shock of seeing my brutalized state. “Is that—I thought—”
Her question hangs in the cold air.
“Oh, did you think they got him away from me? Were you privy to those stupid wolves’ plan and didn’t share?” Oliver asks with chilling nonchalance.
“Is he dead?”
“Not yet,” Oliver answers, sounding bored. “Fix him so I can beat on him more. I don’t want him to die until Imogen is sitting in a chair in front of him watching.”
The stench of Meredith’s terror fills the room.
“Do I need to go find Emma to make my point land better, Ms. Banfield?”
“How dare you!” The words spill from her lips, the seething fury behind each syllable vibrates through the basement like the words are alive with power of their own. “You so much as touch a hair on my daughter’s head and your business is dead, and you know it.”
Oliver grunts dismissively. “Eventually you won’t have that card to play, witch. Be very careful how you speak to me.” His voice holds a deadly edge. “Heal this piece of shit so I can rip him apart again.”
His fist connects again, the force of the blow mingling with the symphony of pain already coursing through my body. More blood drips from my mouth. I can’t distinguish old pain from new, but I deny him the pleasure of hearing me scream.