Echo (Bound to the Fae Book 2)

by J. Kearston

  I take a step in her direction, but he turns his gun on me and I go stock still. “Did I tell you to move?” His dark eyes are devoid of any and all emotion, and based on his size, I’d bet money on hired muscle.

  “Now that wasn’t very nice.” Cambria groans, her silver eyes swirling with pain and rage. “Wouldn’t you rather get in the car and head home before anyone calls the cops? You wouldn’t want to start such a nice morning off in jail, would you?”

  Her words wrap around me, imbued with her power, but he simply responds by firing another shot only inches away from her into the dirt. Tapping his ear with his face twisted into a cruel snarl, he sneers, “Nice try, witch,” drawing attention to the earplugs.

  Luce is in the back of the car at this point, and the trigger happy bastard tosses a pair of handcuffs at him. Without having to be asked, Luce gets them on with some finagling behind his back, eyes boring holes in the man’s head all the while.

  “Now you, pretty boy.” He gestures for me to join Luce and my heart sprints into overdrive, praying he doesn’t have Atlas come too.

  Because if we leave Cambria here alone, who knows what side effects there will be? She only was able to tolerate a five minute drive apart before calling Luce to come back for her that first day.

  There’s a brief moment of relief after I’m in the car and my own cuffs in place, the man gesturing for Atlas to pick her up and bring her. It’s gone just as quickly as he demands Atlas put her in the trunk.

  “I’m not stupid,” he snarls. “Not about to have one of you sitting up here, trying to get me to wreck the car so you can make a break for it. You willing to risk her surviving a crash?” There’s a pause as Atlas slides in beside me, fastening his cuffs into place. “Yeah, didn’t think so,” he taunts with a self-satisfied smirk.

  We pull away from the curb, soon merging into traffic and all the while I try to frantically think of a way out of this. We weren’t killed on sight, so that has to be a good sign. After the explosion, we assumed someone just wanted us dead. So either this is a different person, or something’s changed. If we’re still breathing, then there’s hope. We just need to buy ourselves enough time to find a way out of this mess.

  For all of my envy of Lucien and Cambria, they aren’t any better off than Atlas and me. But it also means we only have a few days at best, if we even survive that long, to figure out a way to escape. Because something tells me this guy won’t be singing Cambria’s praises any time soon and she can only survive so long without going home.

  Chapter 12

  Lucien

  We’re taken two towns over and into the industrial district bordering the river, where several men are waiting for us when we arrive. We’re yanked out of the car, and as they start wrapping blindfolds around the others’ eyes, I try to frantically soak up every possible detail of our surroundings before mine’s put into place. Even the most unassuming things could later prove useful and I try to commit each blip to memory.

  Dorian’s got to be on the verge of a panic attack right about now. And Cambria, fuck; I don’t think he hit an artery, but they can’t expect her to easily walk inside. She wasn’t cuffed, and if she fights back, they might shoot her again. She wouldn’t, she’s smarter than that.

  He called her a witch though, with complete and utter loathing. So he doesn’t know what she is, but knows what she can do. Fuck, just what are we dealing with here? If someone wanted them dead, why the theatrics?

  There’s a scuff of shoes against pavement as another man approaches. He grips my upper arm and drags me alongside them until we’re inside, and I’m shoved down into a metal chair. My legs are swiftly banded to the chair with rope, followed by my torso. There’s the sound of zip ties being drawn tight between my handcuffs and the rattle of a chain, weighing down on my wrists a moment later. Soon, I can’t budge so much as an inch, not that I attempt it.

  I don’t bother begging or pleading, because there’s clearly no point. They shot Cambria without hesitation and I can only imagine how much worse it will be if we start screaming at them. Better off biding our time, trying to catch them off guard, and find an opportunity as soon as one arises.

  I’m left alone for so long that I’m beginning to sweat with nerves. Just countless hours, stretching into even more.

  Does that mean they’re working their way through us, one person at a time? What are they doing to the others?

  My stomach roils, countless horrors playing through my mind to keep me company. There’s nothing to do besides run through one horrific scenario after another, each more gruesome than the last. I run down my mental checklist of every person I’ve ever dealt with, starting with the most likely contenders and working my way down to the most unassuming. Anything that once flagged me as unusual, I begin to overanalyze. Because if I can just figure out the who and why, maybe I can think of a way to negotiate our way out of this before anyone winds up dead.

  As the hours continue to tick by in endless silence, I feel more like my father with every passing minute. The quiet is so absolute, leaving me with nothing but my morbid thoughts for company, that it makes me want to scream. For once, I actually miss the obnoxious place we first found Cambria in, the obscenely loud music enough to drive out every thought before it could even form. You couldn’t so much as hear yourself think in there, and fuck, what I wouldn’t give for that right now. Or at least something.

  An evil villain monologue would be incredibly helpful right about now.

  Still, I don’t devolve into a state of madness like he did. I take slow breaths in through my nose and exhale from my mouth, keeping a perceived state of calm indifference. For all I know there’s someone watching me right now, just waiting for a sign that I’m starting to crack.

  They can look for weakness all they like, but I won’t give them the satisfaction of watching me break. They made it clear they’re aware that the way to keep me in line is by leveraging the others, so I’m not sure what point they’re trying to make here. They have a surefire way to ensure compliance, and instead, I’m sitting alone in the dark without anyone telling me what they even want from me.

  By the time the growing need to piss takes over the forefront of my mind, I finally hear footsteps. Still, I wait, knowing they won’t speak before they’re ready and pleading will just make them draw it out for more twisted enjoyment.

  That is, until I hear the sharp smack and Atlas’ familiar cursing. Another blow and grunt and I’m seething, all my previous conviction fading away in the face of my anger.

  “I’m the one you want, right? So hit me; get it all out if it’ll make you feel better.”

  But no one responds, and I end up biting my tongue until I draw blood. The metallic taste keeps me grounded as Atlas tries to temper his reactions, them doing only gods know what to him. The coppery scent of blood and sweat fills the room quickly, but Atlas doesn’t beg for mercy. He takes each blow with nothing more than pained grunts, sharp hisses of breath, or some cursing.

  I’m stuck bound and blind, completely helpless to do a single thing to help the people I care about.

  There’s a scuff of feet dragging across the floor, but Atlas has long since fallen silent. I grit my teeth, but no matter how desperately I try, I can’t think of a way out of this. I can’t break loose, and it isn’t like I’m holding out on them, refusing to cave.

  “Just tell me what you want!” My voice bounces off of the walls, yet no one responds. “Information? Just fucking ask me; enough with the show.”

  Not a peep, and I’m not even sure if there’s anyone around to hear me. There isn’t so much as the stray muttering of guards conversing or footsteps in the distance, so best guess is the room’s soundproof. They could torture all of us as much as they’d like, without ever worrying about someone overhearing.

  The creak of the door is quickly swallowed by the sound of Dorian’s pained cry, sending my frayed nerves into overdrive.

  “Just tell me what you want!”

  Y
et still, my shouts fall on deaf ears. Each blow that he takes, I count, promising to myself that I’ll return double. I refuse to believe I’m deluding myself, despite my current position. They think they’re so high and mighty, hiding behind the safety of anonymity. But it won’t matter.

  Even if it kills me, they’ll suffer. I will drag them to the grave with me if it comes down to it, but I’ll be damned if I go down without taking at least one of them with me.

  The world might be unfair, but I refuse to believe it could be this imbalanced. We’ve had too much cruelty thrown at us in our lives; we deserve something good at least once. And if the only good thing we’re able to get our hands on is revenge, so fucking be it. But I refuse to believe this is it, that we’ll leave this place down a man or more.

  “Motherfucker!” Dorian shouts, the curse ending on a hiss of pain.

  The sound of a whip splitting flesh meets my ears, and I wince on his behalf, head jerking to the side as if I can hide from reality. Blow after blow comes, and I curse myself for hating the silence. I’ll take the madness inducing oblivion any day if I don’t have to hear this anymore, listen in as Dorian’s flesh is split apart.

  And it’s all because of me. It’s my fault, whether or not I’ve worked out why. But there’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that this has been designed to be my own personal Hell, to make me suffer in a way nothing else could manage.

  Dorian’s shouts taper off and I have a flicker of panic, desperately praying that he just passed out. At least then he’d be spared the pain, but if it was because of anything else...

  I couldn’t bear it. There are very few things in my life I couldn’t adapt to living without, but the three people dragged here by my side are it. I can’t imagine a life without each of them in it, nor do I want to. I’ve kept a wall between myself and the world for exactly this goddamn reason, and now it’s tumbling down in a bleeding mess of regret.

  I don’t regret loving them, but I regret being born into a world where I have to fear someone exploiting it.

  “Dorian?”

  I’m careful to speak his name quietly, part of me praying he passed out and not wanting to wake him if so, but also desperately wanting reassurance he’s still alive. Not even sure what it is I’m hoping for, I wait, but the only thing I hear are footsteps and the sound of a body being dragged out of the room.

  “Just tell me what you want,” I repeat on a low whisper, knowing my words will fall on deaf ears, but growing increasingly desperate.

  Not a word, just the sound of the door slamming shut behind them. I’m left wondering if Dorian’s alive, if he’ll be tossed in a room to die alone, abandoned and forgotten. Atlas didn’t sound like he had it as bad, so they’re clearly escalating and I nearly vomit over what that means for Cambria. And who knows what the fuck else is happening outside of this room?

  Tapping my foot, I count down the moments before they’ll drag Cambria in here for a repeat performance, estimating the lapse of time between Atlas and Dorian. Yet another hour ticks by and nothing. Another still, and not so much as the creak of the door.

  “What do you want!?”

  No reply comes, not that I actually expected it to. My heart starts beating faster, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling. As soon as I thought I’d gotten a handle on what was happening, they change tactics. I’m unable to prepare for anything, left just fucking waiting for things to happen.

  And still, for what? No one is asking for information. I wasn’t patted down despite it was clear we came from the house, so it’s not as if someone was after secrets that they thought I was hiding inside. I’d cut off my own foot if someone would just tell me what the goddamn point to all of this is, to clue me in on how to stop it; how I can convince them to focus their wrath on me and get the others out of here before they have to suffer any more.

  What if she bled out? Or they killed her? The first guy thought she was a witch; maybe they didn’t think it was worth the risk of letting her sit around alive and chance that she might manipulate her way free. No, she can’t be dead, or I would be too...right? Though Achlys said things might be different because of me being involved.

  But for being some supposed fae, it isn’t like I feel anything other than rage simmering in my veins. No power that could help us out of this mess, no mind reading or teleportation. I’m just Lucien; the man that couldn’t protect his father, brother, or his new family. A failure, in every single interpretation of the word. I’m left alone, replaying their cries and wishing I could bear the pain for them.

  The door eventually creaks, and I wait for the sound of Cambria telling someone off, or hell, even a hiss of breath. But the only thing I hear is a solitary set of footsteps on the cement floor and I go cold, praying that doesn’t mean she’s already dead.

  “It’s just not enough,” Victor says with a sighs and I grit my teeth, but don’t bite. “I thought it would feel better than this, but look at you.” He pauses, considering and dragging it out. “It’s like nothing ever fazes you. Even now, it’s like you want answers more than you want to save them.”

  He leans in close, so that I can feel his breath on my face. “Do you even care that he died, Lucien?”

  My heart stutters as my breath seizes in my chest. “You’re lying,” I whisper, but I know Victor. I’m well aware of the lilt to his voice when he twists the truth in his favor for a deal or flat out lies. And not a single syllable wavered with his words.

  “And why would I lie about something so serious?” he taunts, clucking his tongue. “The infamous Lucien Avrell, the human robot. You make your millions without a second thought to anyone that gets hurt in the process, don’t you?”

  He grips my hair, craning my head back as if he wants me to look him in the face, though all that I see is utter darkness. “Because what does it matter who gets hurt so long as you can live the life you want, right?” he shouts, spittle flying onto my face.

  “What. Do. You. Want.” The words come out between gritted teeth, wanting this power play to get to the fucking point.

  “I want you to feel even a fraction of what I do,” he states quietly, and I’m not sure he meant for me to hear it. Louder, he continues, “I want you to know what it’s like for a change, to suffer without reprieve. Grieve, with no end in sight.”

  He smacks my cheek roughly a few times before departing without another word, leaving me absolutely lost.

  Expecting another long stretch of silence, I swallow as he leaves the door propped open behind him. There’s a low murmur of voices and the sounds of several people milling about in the hallway. The first real trace of fear starts to settle into my bones, because whatever’s coming, he doesn’t care if anyone hears.

  I’ve known Victor for years, and he’s always been unstable. He may masquerade as a businessman, but when he was on the verge of bankruptcy, he showed his true colors. And I don’t care how many years it’s been; madness like that doesn’t ever fully disappear.

  The vestiges of insanity will linger until the end of time. Those fractured pieces of darkness take root too deeply to ever be fully expunged. But I always imagined it would take more than a business competitor to tip him over the edge.

  A feminine scream splits the air, followed promptly by a series of profanities that put Atlas’ to shame. My blood runs cold; relieved that she’s still alive, but hating what that means. The others were just a warm up, fine tuning their torture for maximum results.

  “You win, are you fucking happy!” I jerk against my bonds, though I’m aware it’s an effort in futility. “You’ve made your point!”

  My head snaps to the side, not anticipating the blow that comes my way. Yet the mouthful of blood isn’t satisfying in the least, because Cambria’s pained screams keep coming. No matter my attempts to get the focus turned my way, they just divide and conquer; a sadist allotted for each of us.

  At least now I finally have a source of pain I can wrap my mind around, something to ease my guilt. They can punish me
all they like, though it’s nothing compared to what I deserve. But better to suffer alongside the people I love than be forced to watch helpless from the sidelines.

  “It’s not a goddamn game,” Victor seethes. “There is no fucking winning. The fact that you don’t get that just proves I haven’t made my point.”

  Victor grips my shoulder, giving me a split second to brace myself for the first time since being dragged here. I grunt as the wind is knocked out of me, his fist buried in my stomach, but I welcome the pain. Anything to make me feel as shitty on the outside as I do on the inside.

  “Then enlighten me.” I spit to the side rather than in his face like I’m tempted to, because I know he’d take it out on the others instead of me.

  “You had one fucking job, and you couldn’t even do that, could you?” he shouts just before his next punch slams into my other cheek.

  A splitting headache is rapidly forming, making it that much harder to riddle through his ranting. “What job?!” My voice rises to match his, my patience and composure crumbling.

  “Protecting him!” The next hit leaves me reeling, and the first bit of light I’ve seen all night is the spots taking over my vision. They’re gone just as quickly, leaving me blind once more, and my ears ring.

  “Who?”

  A searing pain comes in lieu of an answer, a knife jammed into my shoulder. It burns, more so as he starts slowly twisting it in the wound. Only after I’m panting and covered in a fresh sheen of sweat does he finally deign to elaborate.

  “Maddox. All you had to do was keep him safe, but you as good as killed him.” He jerks the blade out, tearing a line of flesh apart with it.

  My chest is heaving, trying to suck down air. “What does my brother have to do with anything?”

  The blade is pressed into my throat in the next instant, still slick with my blood. He increases the pressure, his free hand fisting my hair to shake me. And all the while Cambria’s pained cries are a background symphony, keeping me from feeling utterly alone in this Hell. I hate it as much as I love her, but her silence has the power to truly destroy me. At least now, I can cling to the knowledge she’s still alive.