Chapter 32: thirty-two

Cole

Two days. That’s how long she’s been unconscious. Her pulse is steady, her breathing even, but she remains in a coma-like state. With each passing day, each ticking hour, each fleeting minute, my anger only intensifies.

Raven keeps urging me to be patient, to hold onto hope, but the fury within me continues to mount.

If it weren’t for Olivia’s near-complete recovery—even her back is healing—I would have already torn Annabelle’s head from her shoulders. But I want Annabelle to suffer, and suffer she will.

I’ve had her and Marcus thrown into the dungeons, bound in silver chains, their bodies devoid of even a single drop of blood. I want her weak, so she can feel every little thing I do to her, so she can experience the pain she’s inflicted.

Today, I decide, is the day I unleash my fury.

Navigating the castle is second nature to me, having lived here for so long. I can easily traverse the labyrinth of halls and rooms.

As I pass by the library, I notice Kaden and Brayden engrossed in conversation. I need to speak with them, but not now. My mind is singularly focused.

I stop by the kitchen. Atticus doesn’t employ human servants, but I can’t help but smile at the fully stocked pantry and fridge. He must have had it filled right after our arrival.

I open the fridge and grab a couple of bags of blood, then continue on my way to the dungeons below.

***

Two guards stand outside, the same two who accompanied me on my journey. They step aside and nod at me as I approach. I grip the handles of the double doors, the rush of cold air hitting my face as I pull them open.

“I hope the princess is healing well,” one of them says as I step forward.

“She is,” I reply, before descending the stairs, the doors closing behind me.

It’s about fifty steps before I reach the bottom. Each cell is actually just a small room. Wooden doors line the long, dark corridor, but I keep walking until I reach the room I need.

I take my time opening this door, her door. I want her to sweat as the door creaks open.

Her head is bent forward, her chin resting on her chest. I approach her, my shoes tapping softly against the floor.

She looks up at me, dark circles under her eyes, dirt crusted on her lips, and the smell of burnt flesh—likely from the silver chains—lingering in the air.

“Cole… please,” she croaks, “have m-mercy.”

I glare at her, considering her words as I set the blood bags down.

“Mercy,” I drawl, “I warned you, Annabelle. Didn’t I tell you that if you harmed a single hair on her head, I’d throw you in a dungeon?”

I remember that day so vividly. I did promise her, after all. I’m just being a man of my word.

I close the gap between us, glaring down at her. “And you did more than just hurt her hair, Annabelle.”

I grab the silver chains and slowly start to unwrap them from her torso. She watches my hands as they start to burn and smoke, but it doesn’t slow me down.

Once a few layers are removed, I can see the damage and I can’t help but smirk. The silver has burned through her skin, leaving her raw and bleeding, the perfect indentations of the chain links visible.

The silver chains eventually fall to the ground with a loud clink. She makes a feeble attempt to run to the door.

She’s too weak to use her powers, too weak to muster any strength or speed. I roll my eyes, grip her hair, wrap it around my wrist, and slam her back into the chair.

She lets out a choked sob, but it has no effect on me. I put on my best sympathetic face—it’s fake, but she doesn’t know that.

I reach for a bag of blood and unscrew the top. “You know, maybe I’m just overreacting,” I say.

She looks at me with hopeful eyes.

“Maybe you were just manipulated. You’re sorry, right?” I ask, holding the blood in my hand.

She licks her dry lips, staring at me with hunger in her eyes.

“Oh, are you hungry? Here…” I slowly offer it to her.

Only when she barely touches it with her fingertips do I pull away. I bring it to my lips and drink the entire bag, crushing the plastic in my hand and throwing it down at her feet.

“You really are a dumb bitch, Annabelle,” I growl.

“You’re a fucking monster!” She shrieks.

I laugh. “Let me explain how this is going to go. We’re going to go through all the things you did to her, and I’ll either do the same to you or simply dish out punishment.”

She’s trembling, probably hoping I don’t know everything. But I do.

“And if you try to run away again, I’ll break your fucking legs,” I say flatly.

I think back to all the things she did—drugged, bitten, slapped, cut up, branded, and drenched in ice-cold water.

I retreat to the other side of the room and wheel over a metal table, placing it in front of her. I pat the cool top, signaling for her to climb up and lie down.

I could throw her up there, but messing with her mind is more… enjoyable.

She takes her time, but that’s fine. I have all night if she wants to drag this out. Once she’s finally lying down, I click the silver restraints over her wrists and ankles.

“Let’s start with the fact that you drugged her,” I say, picking up a syringe filled with saline. It won’t hurt her, but there’s no drug that will work on her.

“That won’t work on me,” she mumbles.

“True, but that doesn’t mean I can’t ram this needle into your neck. You’re weak and hungry, so I know you’ll feel something.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, I plunged the needle into her neck. She let out a yelp and jerked violently.

I picked up a scalpel and turned back toward her. “Next, I believe you carved ‘blood bag’ into her stomach.”

“Now the chains have seared your skin so I can cut you there,” I explained, beginning to slice her dress right below her collarbone, revealing her chest just above her breasts.

I took my time, letting the scalpel glide against her skin. Blood began to drip down, staining her dress. I pondered what to carve into her, but nothing seemed to match the number of lines she had cut. Twenty-seven lines.

At first, she only winced, but by the time we reached line fifteen—or the second ‘B’—she was pleading with me to stop.

“Please, Cole, it burns!”

I applied a bit more pressure, the blade scraping against her bone, and she screamed. By the time I finished, she was shaking, blood everywhere.

“We should really clean this up,” I said, looking down at my handiwork.

Once again, I crossed the room and gathered a bucket, filled more with ice than water. I didn’t let her see me, staying in the shadows and moving so quietly you’d think I had left completely.

I positioned myself behind her head. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for me. I let her wonder a few more seconds before I lifted the bucket high in the air and spilled its icy contents over her head.

She let out a piercing scream, her hands shaking, red splotches appearing where the ice hit her hard.

She took in deep breaths, her wet hair matted to her face. The blood on her chest was still smeared across her skin. I decided to let her sit there, taking in the terror on her face.

“C-Cole…P-please…I didn’t know,” she stammered, teeth chattering and tears streaming down her face.

“You knew she was mine. You knew the consequences. Now shut the fuck up before I decide to cut out your tongue. We have much more to do,” I snapped.

“You know, I wasn’t sure what I was going to brand you with. ‘Slave’ just didn’t seem appropriate, but then I found this,” I said, holding up the branding iron. The handle was iron, but the actual flat piece was silver.

No doubt it was used on vampires who broke the law. It said ‘Bitch’.

“No, please! Please! Don’t fucking touch me with that,” she cried out.

Without mercy, without remorse, without a second thought, I slammed it against her forehead. I heard a bone crack, the skin burned and crackled. She let out an ear-deafening scream.

Only when the smell of burnt flesh became so bad that I thought I might be sick did I pull the tool away and let it fall to the ground.

She continued her screaming and thrashing against the table.

“No more…no more…. Please… kill me,” she begged.

I ignored her. She hadn’t stopped, she hadn’t shown mercy, and neither would I.

She had provoked the monster inside of me.

Next, let’s see, oh that’s right, she slapped her. I had no desire to physically touch her and up to this point, I didn’t need to. I could always smash her hand with a hammer.

“What hand did you use when you slapped her face?” I asked, picking up the discarded piece of her dress I had ripped.

She shook her head.

“Answer or I do both hands,” I warned. She wiggled her right hand. Her hands were still restrained, but that only made things easier.

I gripped her jaw and pressed hard until she squealed, then stuffed the cloth into her mouth.

I started with her thumb, squeezing it tightly. The bones snapped and crushed in my grip. I continued for each finger, taking my time.

She threw her head from side to side and screamed against the cloth. It was muffled but it still echoed off the walls.

“Only one more punishment and then we’re done, Annabelle,” I said, her choked sobs filling the room.

I walked out into the hall and snapped my fingers, calling for three of the Damned soldiers.

Something that is unknown is that while they are vampires, they’re much viler. Their bite is completely toxic and is quite harrowing.

“Two at her legs and one at her arm,” I ordered, and they followed, each of them leaning down and grabbing a limb.

I plucked the cloth out of her mouth and I could smell her fear now.

“Get the fuck off me,” she panicked, “Don’t touch me!”

“Shush now. They are going to bite you. Two from the vampires at Mammoth and Adam,” I explained.

I nodded, giving the order, and they each extended their fangs, completely black. Her high-pitched screams could probably be heard throughout the castle now.

I snapped my fingers and they stood up and left, blood dripping from their lips.

It wasn’t until closer inspection that I realized her blood was now oozing out from the attack, her blood thick and black, like tar.

Her entire body convulsed as I walked to her side and patted her head, stroking her hair.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay now, we’re done,” I cooed at her before I gripped her hair and pulled with all my strength. Her head ripped from her shoulders, blood gushed out, spraying my shirt and pooling on the floor.

I walked out of the room, a few vampires rushing in behind me to no doubt clean up the mess.

I walked a good distance before I reached the room I needed. Marcus.

I opened the door and strolled in. It was completely dark except for one light hanging above him.

“Belle? What the fuck have you done to her? I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you if you touched her,” he screamed, still unaware of who was here.

I crouched down and rolled the round item over to him.

Her head rolled and wobbled before stopping right at his feet.

He let out a gurgling noise and thrashed against the chains, hissing as they dug deeper into his skin.

Emerging from the shadows, I stepped into the dim light, my body soaked in his daughter’s blood.

“I warned you, Marcus,” I growled, my voice low and menacing. “You have no fucking idea who I am.”