Her male disguise had been a shock, her secret heritage had been a surprise, the slur carved into her back had been unacceptable, but this was too far.
When I’d told the other men, their breathing patterns had changed. Their feet stumbled, joints popping as they’d struggled to stay upright.
Corvus had carried Arabella through the blizzard, back to the room, and deposited her in the shower. When asked why she’d kept such a horrible secret, Orion had said she’d shrugged.
Shrug: a gesture that conveyed indifference.
We’d spiraled.
We’d failed our Revered worse than any Protectors in history. We were abominations to devil kind, and we didn’t deserve her as our mate. We’d touched her, kissed her—tortured her.
Now I was locked in a new type of hell.
I was in her memories.
Her nightmare.
I drowned in her pain, and I didn’t know how much more I could take. I didn’t know how she was still functioning.
She was the strongest person I’d ever met.
Arabella screamed as five guards held her down and her mother carved “WHORE” into her flesh. I knew it was five because there were five different male breathing patterns surrounding my Revered.
She was being tortured, whimpering and screaming in pain.
I could do nothing but experience it.
The blade sliced deeply through her skin. It scraped against bone, and Arabella screamed.
Her mother chuckled.
I wanted to die.
Locked in sleep paralysis, I could do nothing but experience the atrocity that was committed against my Revered.
At first, I screamed and fought to wake up, unable to stomach what I was experiencing. Then I went quiet. The five breathing patterns were unfamiliar from any of the others I’d heard in her nightmares.
I focused on memorizing every doomed breath they took.
For hours, Arabella begged, and I listened so if I encountered the men in real life, I would immediately recognize them.
They would pay.
Chapter 46
Orion
TORTURER’S DEMISE
Paramnesia （noun）： a disorder of memory.
DAY 30, HOUR 23
Five men held down my sweet Arabella while her mother carved into her flesh. I experienced everything that she had.
My Revered screamed in pain, and I suffocated.
The pain was heinous, but it was her suffering that broke my heart.
I was helpless to do anything but experience it.
I couldn’t help her.
Four of the five letters were carved into her back before I found the willpower to examine the men holding her down.
With one glance, I memorized their faces.
Then I focused on Arabella. As she begged. As she cried. As she screamed. As tears dripped down her face.
I planned out all the things I would do to the men who held her down while her mother sliced into her.
Their eyes would be removed because they’d looked at her.
Their lips would be carved off their faces because they’d smiled while she screamed.
Their fingers would be removed because they’d touched her bare skin.
Their muscles would be extracted from their bodies because they’d used them to restrain her.
Unlike Scorpius, I would get no pleasure from hurting them, but I would do it because it had to be done. They’d brought it upon themselves when they’d held down my Revered. They’d brought it upon themselves when they’d smirked while she’d begged for help, and they did nothing.
They would die because they were already dead men walking.
I would do it for her.
Because that was what you did for those you loved: you hurt those who hurt them. You protected them. You removed the monsters from their lives and became their monster.
For Arabella, I would do anything.
I was her monster.
Chapter 47
John
SHARED PAIN
Nyctophobia （noun）： abnormal fear of darkness.
DAY 30, HOUR 23
All the kings were whimpering in their sleep, and Arabella was convulsing.
I was wide awake in the bedroom.
Blazing pain coursed down my spine, and as I concentrated on the agony, I realized it was in a pattern.
I felt every slow slice of the enchanted blade through flesh.
I felt what Arabella felt when the slur was permanently etched into her skin.
The knife nicked her bone, and I gasped.
I’d bitten through my tongue hours ago to hold back my screams as I convulsed. Luka twitched against me, his breathing labored, and I knew he was experiencing the same thing.
The completed soul bond was making us live through Aran’s nightmare.
I shook and ground my teeth together.
I was glad the jewelry had completed the bond, because now I understood exactly what Aran had been through. I knew firsthand how badly she’d been tortured. I focused on the pain of her past as I held her in the present.