“We’ve changed our thinking about that. Once a person uses magic and creates an aura, they are no longer considered human. A person who provides protection for a witch is no longer human, either.”
She struggled frantically against the ropes, sweat beading on her forehead. This was insane. “You can’t just make up your own definitions.”
“Of course we can. It is people like me who create reality. It is people like me who define our terms. This is the way it’s always been. The Brotherhood is an empire, and Blodrial has called on me to lead it.” His cheeks reddened, his pace increasing. “Weak-minded scholars might huddle in libraries, arguing over semantics and ethics. Fine. With their noses stuck in books, they’re out of my way while I create reality. Meanwhile, I’m going to act, molding the world into the way it should be according to divine principles.”
She gasped for breath, her lungs burning. “If you torture people, what makes you any better than the demons?”
“We don’t call it torture, so it isn’t.” His heels clacked faster over the floorboards. “Anyway, that you would even question me in that way shows how far you’ve fallen.”
She wanted to distract him—if only because she knew what was coming next. “Your lack of introspection is breathtaking.”
He paused his pacing, cocking his head but refusing to meet her eyes. “I do often request that our interrogators refrain from leaving marks, because they can make for unfortunate pictures in the wrong hands, but I can’t promise Josiah will heed that request.” He turned with a tight smile. “Well, it was interesting to meet you in person. I’ll let Josiah know you’re ready for him. You already know how this works, Rosalind. You’ve been in here before.”
Terror vibrated in her skull, and she tried to rip her arms from their ties as Loring strode from the room.
Tammi. Where was Tammi right now? Rosalind’s pulse raced. She needed to get out of here and search the other interrogation rooms—but even if she could get out of here, there was no way to unlock the secure rooms without the retina scan.
As she tugged the ropes, her chair legs banged against the floor. Caine remained still, his black eyes cold as glaciers, devoid of humanity. He must have flipped some kind of switch.
“Caine,” she said. “I need to find a way—”
The door opened, and Josiah stepped into the light, his brown eyes boring into Rosalind.
“Hello, my darling,” he said, voice seething with anger.
“Josiah. You don’t want to do this.”
He crossed the room, reaching out to stroke her hair, eyes glistening. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been so looking forward to this.”
“Why? You know what happened to me. I was turned into a witch against my will.”
His nostrils flared. “Fine, but then you opened your legs for the incubus and declared war on humanity.”
“I haven’t declared war on anyone.”
“You’re either with us or against us. You know that.” He straightened, staring down at her. “When I was five, I hid in a closet and watched as demons ripped into my parents’ necks, drank them dry. They did things to my mother that no child should have known about. Your lover here not only lives among them, but he acts as their leader.” Josiah’s eyes burned with fervid intensity. “To see you lusting after this beast set a fire blazing inside me that can never be extinguished. I want you to feel my pain. I want this monster to feel my pain when he watches me hurt you.”
Caine’s growl reverberated through the room, his demonic eyes dark as voids.
“Tammi didn’t do anything wrong,” Rosalind said, in desperation.
Instead of responding, Josiah shoved her shoulders so hard that the chair tipped back. As it slammed against the floor, she gasped in pain. The full weight of her body landed on her hands, bound behind her back. She struggled to catch her breath.
“Did that hurt? I see you’re injured.” He knelt down, pulling a knife from his pants, before cutting through the front of her shirt.
Revulsion spread through her. She couldn’t believe she’d ever cared for this maniac. She should have let Caine kill him when they had the chance. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at the damage to your corrupted body.” He studied her gunshot wound before pressing down on it with one of his thumbs.
Agony lanced her ribs. Caine had sealed up some of the wound, but fragments of her broken ribs still pierced her lungs.
“That must hurt a lot,” Josiah said. “Your demon lover didn’t get to finish healing it. He won’t be able to heal your broken corpse when I’m done with it, either.”
“You’re a monster,” she choked out. Her thoughts raced, and she tried to slow them, to think tactically.
What did the Brotherhood teach her? Use the tools from your surroundings. But what the hell was she supposed to use here? She was tied to a chair, and…