Kelly Meding - Requiem for the Dead

Rage for his agony and hatred for Vale built up in me like a shaken soda bottle, the pressure too damned much. Desperate to explode somewhere. To make someone pay for Milo's suffering. And for Marcus's suffering as he watched someone he obviously cared for tortured because of those feelings. Even the normally cool-under-all-kinds-of-pressure Baylor was getting twitchy as one hour turned into two, and then more.

Vale stopped for a while to take a phone call. Peck followed him out. The only sound in the prison was Milo's ragged, shallow breathing. His entire body was shaking. I tugged at the chain around my own neck, desperate to get loose and help him. I sought the Break and couldn't find it. I couldn't do anything, and I did not wear helpless well.

"Talk to me," Milo said in a broken voice. "Anyone, please, just something." He hadn't cried out once during the beatings, but he was close to the shattering point. It was in his voice, his shivering body, the harshness of his breathing.

"The obstacle course is coming along well," Baylor said, his voice clear and steady. "Gina's brilliant when it comes to physical training."

"Army Rangers," Milo said.

"Yes, because she was a Ranger. Construction will take a little time, but the plans are fantastic. Better than what we had at Boot Camp."

Milo made a snorting sound. "Anything's better than Boot Camp."

"That is the fucking truth," I said. "But it had some good ideas, and Gina will help design a fantastic obstacle course for training. It'll keep all of our asses in fighting shape, especially yours, Gant."

"Don't think I'll be running it for a while."

"Bullshit. You'll be the first to show me up, and you know it."

He angled his head sideways and gave me what seemed like a grateful smile. Distance made it hard to know for sure. "Can't do this much longer," he whispered.

Fresh tears stung my eyes and closed my throat, making words impossible.

"You'll do this as long as you have to," Marcus said. "Until we get out of this. But you must be awake and aware when we do. Please, Milo."

"I'm trying."

The door swung open. Peck waited there while Vale came into the room again. Sauntered was probably a better word and it made me hate him even more.

"Word on the street is the Watch has sent out several of their little squads to look for you," Vale said. "This is, as you can imagine, excellent news."

"How's that?" Baylor asked.

"Because it gives my people more moving targets. We can't touch you when you're holed up in your Watchtower. In the city, you're vulnerable. You idiots proved that this morning."

"More targets also means more eyes looking for us."

"They won't find you here. Although I may plant a few breadcrumbs. I'd love a chance for a go at the human traitor Tybalt. It's certainly a shame he wasn't with you today, Marcus. Maybe your little toy wouldn't be taking the brunt of my attention."

"Leave Tybalt alone," Milo said. He had a strength in his voice that surprised me and shouldn't have—Tybalt and Milo were as close as any blood-related brothers.

Vale laughed and walked over to the chain levers. "You, boy, won't be around to see me kill your friend. But I promise you I will kill him for his betrayal. You can take that promise to your grave." Vale turned the lever.

The chain yanked Milo to his feet. He cried out as he was lifted up to the tips of his toes. Then Vale lifted him a fraction higher, until he could no longer touch the ground. Milo didn't kick, didn't scream. He just…dangled there.

"You're going to kill him!" I screamed. I couldn't help it. The building wave of hatred was rising up and right out of my mouth. "You fucking asshole, let him down!"

"No," Vale said.

"Marcus won't tell you anything. It's pointless."

"Hardly. I find it entertaining to see the unflappable, badass Marcus Dane coming undone over the death of a scrawny human male."

Marcus snarled. He had murder in his fevered eyes.

Vale stepped into my open cell door. He made a point of looking me over, which made me want to gouge his eyeballs out with my thumbs.

"Like I said, take off the collar and let's go at it, Fuzz Face," I said.

"I'm tired of you," Vale said. "And let's face it, you have a habit of not dying when you're supposed to." He reached beneath his un-tucked shirt and produced a handgun, which he pointed right at me. Finger on the trigger, safety off.

I stood up straighter, stomach tightening. I could survive a lot of things, but not a point blank bullet to the head Stall. Stall. Stall. "The goblins, Halfies and Fey are your enemies, Vale, not the humans. And certainly not your own Pride members."

"Pride politics are not your business, human."

"They are when my friends are involved."

"Those so-called friends have divided loyalties. They made their choices."

"We've all made our choices, and I have some pretty well-placed friends. Not just Therians, but vampires and gremlins and a few other species." Maybe I was stretching it with the gremlin thing, but Vale didn't know any differently. "You kill me and you'll be making the Pride some serious fucking enemies. You gonna take on that responsibility, Alpha ?"

Vale hesitated. He stared at me, his expression neutral, long enough to freak me out a little bit. Milo was slowly strangling to death, and I was having a stare-down with a pissed-off Bengal. Finally, Vale blinked. He tucked his gun away, then stepped over to our pile of clothes. Selected a blue shirt—Baylor's, I thought, but I honestly hadn't been paying attention to what anyone was wearing earlier—and then reached for the pulley controls. My collar lifted me just past my tiptoes, then right off the ground. My throat constricted. I grabbed the chain and held on tight before it choked me.

Baylor said something I didn't catch, then something was touching my belly. I kicked out instinctively, but Vale was already out of reach. What the hell had he done? Rubbed Baylor's shirt on me?

"You're right, I think," Vale said. "There's no sense in me killing you when someone else can do it for me."

With my arms above my head and my whole body stretched out, breathing became a minor challenge. Pain was also an issue, in both my shoulders and hands. Vale stood outside my cell door, waiting. I figured out what he was waiting for when Peck came through the prison door, dragging something with him on one of those poles that animal catchers used on wild creatures.

My heart nearly stopped when I saw Wyatt on the other end of that pole. His face was half-shifted—jaw elongated, cheekbones broken, black fur sprouting all along his throat. His eyes were pure silver, his teeth sporting a pair of wicked fangs. I'd seen this face only twice before, and it scared the hell out of me both times. He was also shirtless, his torso and face bruised, showing evidence of his own abuse at Vale's hands.

Wyatt snarled at Marcus when Peck pushed him closer to the bars. Marcus hissed right back.

"Bring him here," Vale said.

Peck changed his angle, putting Wyatt between him and Vale. I knew Wyatt, could see the fear and confusion in his eyes. Saw how hard he was battling the wolf and trying to keep it together. They'd done this to him, forced the wolf out.

Putting Baylor's scent on me made chillingly perfect sense.

"I told you, half-breed, that she would break your trust," Vale said, as though he and Wyatt had been in the middle of a conversation. "I can smell the human male on her. He tried to rid her of your mark."

Wyatt bared his teeth at Vale, then took a step toward my cage. Peck stepped in first, keeping a distance from me by putting his back to the cement block wall. He stopped with Wyatt right in front of me, close enough to touch.

Vale stayed nearby. "You can smell him on your mate," he said.