My chest squeezes until the blood vessels burst, exploding in a fury until all I can taste is the sour notes of betrayal.
The rebel king. The scarred prince.
My hand flies to my mouth to stifle the scream.
I let him see the darkest parts of me. Allowed him to mark me, and hurt me, and I begged for it while I rubbed his cum into my skin and prayed to God it would brand my soul.
My teeth grit as hatred, black and true, burns through me until I shake, violence pounding in my ears.
I’ve done many things that will keep me from the gates of Heaven. I’ve come to terms with my sins, giving up my faith long ago in order to seek vengeance. But right now, I feel as though I’ve truly betrayed my father’s memory for the first time.
I slept with a Faasa. But worse than that, I fell for the man responsible for his death.
My heart trembles and cracks, the jagged edges slicing through tendons as they fall to my feet, until nothing remains but a blackened hole that almost knew what it felt like to fall in love.
Tristan’s head snaps to where I am, green eyes piercing as his head tilts.
Jumping to my feet, I turn and flee, adrenaline pumping like acid through my muscles as I run back the way I came, promising my father’s ghost I won’t forget why I came. Not again.
I will eradicate the Faasa family and kill the rebel king… no matter how much it may break me.
CHAPTER 43
Tristan
My brother asked if I was a man of faith.
I’m a man of many things, but faith is something that is best suited when it’s placed within yourself instead of seeking for it in other people.
Other people disappoint.
I saw her. It was quick; just a flash, but I’d know those dark eyes anywhere.
Everything in me demanded to follow; to hunt her down and sneak into her room like I did the other night. But something is telling me I shouldn’t. Not yet.
So, I went to her cousin instead.
Xander has been with us since the night of the engagement ball, naturally. And in the time since, he’s been on display, beaten and abused, the open wounds growing infected and causing what I’m sure is an immeasurable amount of pain. I imagine sepsis will set in soon, eating him from the inside out.
I splash a bucket of water on his face, rousing him. He looks around, but I’ve tied him to a wooden slab in the tavern's backyard. I secured both of his legs with rope, and his good hand as well.
He jerks but realizes quickly he isn’t going anywhere. Even if he was free to move, he’s far too weak to escape.
“Good morning, Alexander.” I smile.
“I’ve told you,” he mumbles, his tongue peeking out of his dry mouth to wipe over his cracked and bleeding lips. He coughs before he continues. “Everything… I know.”
Tsking, I shake my head. “Come now, Xander. We both know that’s not true. You haven’t told me anything.”
“Just kill me,” he whispers. “Please.”
I place down the empty bucket at my feet, moving to where a gallon of kerosene sits at the end of the table. “You believe you’ve paid your penance?”
He nods.
“And what were your crimes?”
He presses his lips together, turning his face away. Everything he does is in slow motion, as if he doesn’t have the strength to exert the proper amount of energy.
I step up next to him, staring down at his beaten and bloodied face. “I tell you what. I’ll be honest with you first. That way, it’s more of a tit for tat.” Blowing out a breath, I crack my neck. “Honestly… you’re going to die today. Phew, it feels good to get that off my chest. Now you go.”
His eyes flare, but he stays silent.
“Alright then.” I raise the gallon above his torso, tilting the bottle until it pours onto his skin, dousing his flesh and pooling into the wood at his sides. He shivers when it hits.
“This isn’t for me, you know,” I say, moving my way around his body, until I cover every single inch of him in the liquid. “This is your chance to confess, and hope that God will grant mercy on your soul.”
He scoffs, but it turns into a cough, the sound wheezy and wet, as if sickness has already taken his lungs. “You’re no priest.”
I lean in close. “But I can be your savior.”
“Are you going to kill her as well?” he asks.
My chest cinches up tight. There’s only one her I imagine he’d be speaking of, and she isn’t someone I have any intention of harming. “I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific.”