Bound by Darkness (Bound By Series)

3. Freedom

Chapter 3

Freedom

THALIA

Pieces of glass rained from his hair, coating us in glittering shards. Amber liquid and blood dripped from his skull, droplets plopping onto the couch.

He stumbled to a knee, broken shards embedded into his hair and temple. His ringed fingers shook violently as he pulled the shards out, his pupils fully dilated. “You vile trash!” his voice boomed as he stumbled, the amber liquid working against him.

Oh gods. Oh gods.

Any second, the guards would race through the front door at the noise and discover what had occurred.

I had been so angry at his advances the last thing on my mind was the repercussions I’d face… of what it might mean for Moria or me.

The broken bottle shattered as I hurried for the window, my fingers struggling to find the lip. My heart pounded and roared in my ears as I shoved my body weight against the panel .

The window slid an inch, a cry leaving my lips.

A crash sounded from behind, increasing the frequency of my hits.

He couldn’t catch me.

They couldn’t catch me, because if they did, they’d torture me and punish Moria as well. Gayle would see to it.

The window slammed upward, and the smell of pine and earth tickled my nose. Wood groaned behind me in stable, steady beats.

I didn’t have the luxury of waiting as I launched myself forward through the tiny opening, my hips scraping against metal. Pressing my palms against the outside panels, I used them as leverage to shimmy my weight through, my shirt and pants tearing from the chipping splinters.

I pressed deeper into the exterior of the quarters, my legs kicking wildly in the open air.

A tug at the hem of my pants stopped my descent, my hands latching onto the sides of the window.

My fingernails clawed wood, skin ripping and tearing at the force. I held on with every strand of strength left.

“Guards! Guards!” he screamed, his bloodied fingers wrapping around the hem of my pants.

Kicking with my feet, his wet fingers slipped from the material as I shoved forward, the momentum colliding me into the damp ground below. I did not turn around as I bolted for the forest, the chill air of night kissing my exposed skin.

I needed cover.

I needed to gain ground quickly, but the guards were already hot on my trail as they rounded the house, cornering me on each side.

Leaping over a pile of firewood, I pushed off a nearby tree as I rushed into the forest, the thick canopy of darkness swallowing me.

“She ran this way!” a guard yelled in the distance .

I kept running as branches scraped and carved into me.

My feet did not stop even when they tripped over roots in the pit of night, the soles of my feet bleeding from thorns and pinecones burying deep.

“Over here!” a guard bellowed. An oil lamp dangled from his hand.

I shifted toward an opening, a great willow’s bark beckoning me to seek shelter beneath its arms. My legs burned and pumped with the anticipation of freedom.

Free .

I wanted to be free.

Light illuminated night as guards flanked me on every side, the path of freedom narrow. That same willow groaned, its branches swaying in the air.

I ran to it.

The one last spot not poisoned by their feet. If I could make it beneath its branches, I could hide in the thicket—escape when their eyes turned.

The willow sang, freedom curling around me like a lost echo.

I could make it.

Blood seeped from the cracked soles of my feet as I pushed my limits farther. Reaching ever closer to freedom with the pump of my legs, the expanding of my lungs, and the whisk of air as it caressed my skin.

My fingertips touched a branch, its soft leaves tender as they kissed me. I was going to make it. Slip under the veil of its embrace into the unknown.

The leaves turned hard, a sharp throbbing radiating up my body as I collided into the thick trunk, the air expelling from me in waves.

“Found you,” a voice hissed as my body slammed into the thick bark again, my head cracking upon impact .

Everything spun as my lungs inhaled the thick smell of musk and dirt.

Digging my nails into the bark, I clung to freedom.

This couldn’t be the end.

My nails snapped as I buried them deeper within her skin, pieces flaking to the wet earth.

I would not go back.

I refused to be taken?—

The guard shoved my head into the bark, silencing everything.

Icy liquid trickled down my hair, face, and body as I blinked back stars, my teeth clattering in the frigid cell.

Another wave of water crashed over me, sapping the warmth from my bones as I choked on cold liquid and blood. My arms draped horizontally across the familiar stone of my cell. Goosebumps peppered my exposed chest as my arms tugged against solid iron.

A flash of red sent my heart racing as my head slowly turned from the stone wall. It couldn’t be?—

Gayle appeared, his yellowed teeth exposed in a wicked smile, red hair peeking from behind his pointed ears. “Well, hello,” he sang.

“Gayle.” I choked. He was the Captain of this hellish place—and the one man who despised my existence. I wanted anyone else in my cell except for him and his twisted smile.

“Tsk.” He wagged his finger back and forth. The muscles in his arms flexed with each movement. “Did you think you’d escape after such an amateur stunt?”

My eyes widened at the thin strap of leather wound tightly around his hand.

“Moria,” I whimpered.

Where was she? If she appeared, he’d listen to her. He always caved for the beautiful brunette.

Gayle unbound the leather, tracing its smooth edge with his finger. “Moria’s working grounds.” He licked his lips. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun. Does it, darling?”

“You… you bastard.” My voice wavered at the sight of it.

The chains did not budge from the wall as he towered over me; the largest and strongest Captain, he also devoted himself to the title of most sadistic. His physical prowess heightened his ability to inflict harm, his muscled chest puffing with adrenaline as his eyes raked over me. Not a single scar nicked his body, because he’d never lost a fight.

Gayle whistled a haunting tune. “Ten lashings, ordered by your new master. I have to admit he’s quite the bloodthirsty Fae male.”

The chains rattled once, but held firm. Panic, pure panic, seeped into my wet bones. They weren’t budging.

The whip seared into my mind.

I was scared, and Moria wasn’t there in her cell.

Alone.

The word reverberated off stone.

Gayle’s legs stretched as he positioned himself behind me, the whip snapping against the floor. “I’d say I’m doing this for your punishment, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to hear how you scream. How someone with so much unbridled casting breaks under pain.” He chuckled darkly.

Leather cracked against stone.

“I wonder if you’ll scream like you did the night of your family’s deaths. Perhaps even the scream you gave the King when he told you he’d murdered your family for hiding your casting. Do you think their pleas reached the abandoned Fae gods?”

“I hate you!” I shouted as I barred my teeth. “I hate all of you!”

He cracked the whip against rock, a wicked grin on his face as my back arched at the sound. “Let’s test your limits.”

Whip struck flesh.

Blinding pain seared across my back at the impact, tears welling and falling from my cheeks in large pools.

The snap of the whip echoed, haunting me as it sliced through skin. It hurt . Oh gods, it hurt more than any beating he’d ever inflicted upon me. More than when he’d extracted my fingernails one by one.

Screams filled the cell as he struck, my back tightening with each vigorous crack.

Again.

Again.

Again .

Relentless—even my mental walls failed to bid back the blinding ache as my screams echoed in the hopeless catacombs.

I needed to focus on something solid… something grounding. Counting helped me as a child, and I’d hoped it would perform the same as numbers blared hot and fresh in my mind.

I’d only prayed to the Mother once in my life, but here, as blood dripped onto stone and my back split with each strike of leather, I prayed to her again. Pleaded with her to ease the pain, but she didn’t listen to a half-breed’s request as the whip continued to slice through tissue and skin, blood spraying where it met its mark.

One. Two. Three.

Gayle’s laughter floated to my ears. “So you do scream and bleed red,” he purred, the whip cracking against the edge of my shoulder blade.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Again and again the whip sent searing pain through my body like molten rock, the chains barely rattling from my limp arms.

Still, I counted.

It grounded me to a feeling beyond the blazing fire scorching my back and nausea rumbling in the pit of my stomach as the iron claws dug into my raw wrists, my chest pressed against the cool stone in search of relief.

Gasping for air, each rise and fall sent daggers piercing through my back at the torn flesh dangling there.

All I could think of was Moria entering her cell to discover the pile of ruined flesh I’d become. What would terrify her more? Finding my limp body or Gayle towering over me with red splotches against his clothes?

Again.

My fingers curled around hot metal as I bit my lip to keep from screaming, my body slamming against stone as laughter echoed in the room.

Would it ever end?

Again—

The whip clattered against the stone flooring, echoing its final kiss against my skin.

Gayle’s large hand gripped my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. “You did wonderful.” His brown eyes gleamed with pleasure as his hot breath coated my lungs with the smell of iron.

His massive body reached over mine to unlock my arms from the metallic hooks, my body slumping to the ground in a pile of ruined flesh.

I wanted to curse him, but my lips refused to open.

Wrapping the bloodied leather around his hand, he licked droplets of red from his lips. “I’d refrain from moving.” His boots slapped against stone as the door creaked. “Wouldn’t want you in poor shape for work tomorrow. ”

The iron door slammed shut.

His whistles echoed in the damp tunnels, his footsteps lighter as he winded through the endless tunnels.

I waited until the whistling became nonexistent, a distant memory before I unfurled my screams against stone—to the rodents and food I’d discarded from lunch until hot tears raked down my cheeks.

I’d been whipped.

The one part I’d refused to relinquish to this hellish place he’d taken away with ten strikes. Ten strikes to make me the equivalent of cattle.

I wept bitterly, curses flowing from my lips toward the gods for what they had gifted me.

Their offering had become my curse.