I clenched my teeth when the poker neared my face.
Declan scanned my body. “Too bad you’re wearing that sweatshirt. All that clothing doesn’t leave me with many options of where to put this.”
He flicked a glance at the man behind me, who gripped my hair and held my head back.
When the tip of the poker seared my neck, I jerked violently.
He lowered the torture device and glanced at his friend. “You’re going to need to hold her head tighter.”
Kevin’s hand covered my forehead, and I found myself unable to look away. “Don’t you burn me with that,” he warned Declan.
“I’m not telling you anything,” I snarled. “The only person I want to speak with is Darius, so call him in here.”
He bent down, holding the rod close enough that I could feel the heat. “Who do you work for?”
“No one. I’m a rogue. Why would I be walking around with a duffel bag full of dirty clothes if I had a job?”
“Wrong answer.”
He lowered the flat end of the poker until it branded my left cheek. I screamed, slipping into a primal state of survival. The pain was unfathomable—sharp and real, pulling me right into the moment. My eyes watered, and my skin pulsed with searing pain that intensified with each passing second. He stood up, watching me writhe and bare my teeth like an animal caught in a trap. Tears were streaming down my face, reawakening the fresh pain that continued to burn as if he had never removed the iron.
Oh God, I can’t survive this. Now I knew why men cried for their mothers when dying on the battlefield. I just wanted someone to make it stop, to get me out of there.
Kevin let go, and as I sat there and sobbed, I became incensed that these two men were standing there watching me and laughing. I jolted forward, tipping the chair and sinking my fangs into Declan’s thigh. The momentum tore my teeth down his pants, cutting through his flesh in the process.
He bellowed in pain, but I barely heard it over my own roar. When I hit the ground, Declan stumbled backward, almost losing his footing. If he kicked me in the legs, I didn’t feel it. I wriggled my body, trying desperately to loosen the ropes—the smell of burning flesh sending me over the edge.
“Dammit, pick her up!” Declan shouted.
Kevin wasn’t a threat to me; he was more of an annoyance. Men who couldn’t think for themselves would spend the rest of their lives as followers. Declan… Well, he had officially penned his name in my book of people I wanted to destroy.
They righted my chair, and my chest heaved as I tried to capture a satisfying breath. The taste of his blood in my mouth made my stomach twist into painful knots.
The door opened, and Darius entered the room. “What’s going on in here? What have you done?”
My black hair curtained my face, and I was beginning to feel the pattern of the burn that started at the corner of my mouth and stretched across my cheek to my eye.
I finally looked like the monster I’d become.
“Get out,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Both of you.”
Some of my hair blew forward as I breathed steadily, in and out through my nose. I must have sounded like a fire-breathing dragon. I was vaguely aware of the pain around my wrists from the handcuffs pinching my skin. My teeth were clenched, muscles tight, and shoulders hunched. Rage funneled through me in the form of energy, and I focused on leveling it down before it spiraled out of control and caused me to black out. That was the first lesson every Mage learned whether someone taught them or not: control your energy before it controls you.
Darius tilted my head back and threaded my hair away from my face. “I instructed them to rough you up. This was certainly uncalled for.” He grimaced when he got a close look at my face. “That’s going to take a while to heal on its own. It’s a good thing they didn’t have any liquid fire.”
The statement hung in the air like a thinly veiled threat.
Darius plucked a handkerchief from his suit pocket and shook it out. He knelt before me and wiped Declan’s blood from my mouth. “Who is protecting you now? Why should you protect them?”
“I don’t protect anyone.”
“Who is Houdini?”
I furrowed my brow. “I don’t know.”
“Who was the man you were sitting with in the pastry shop? I want to know who lives in that house and what they know about me. My men followed you there, and something tells me your friends know my business. I don’t like anyone knowing my business. Are we clear about that?” A ridiculously long moment of silence stretched between us, as if he actually expected me to answer. “As much as I’d like to untie you so we can speak as equals, I don’t think cooperating is what you have in mind.”
I steadied my eyes on the iron poker.
“We haven’t been formally introduced, Miss Black. I’m Darius Bane.”