Chapter 247
Drake's POV
The chains bit into my wrists for what felt like the thousandth time today. Maybe the ten thousandth. Time had a funny way of blurring when you were strung up like a piece of meat in a fucking dungeon.
I tested the restraints again, pulling against the iron links that suspended me from the ceiling. My shoulders screamed in protest, muscles burning with that special kind of agony that comes from being in the same position for hours. Days. Months.
The chains didn't budge. They never did.
But I kept trying anyway. Something inside me—pride, stubbornness, sheer fucking spite—refused to accept that this was it. That this was how Drake Reid's story ended. Hanging in the dark like a forgotten side of beef.
Keep fighting, some idiot voice in my head whispered. Keep trying.
Right. Because that had worked out so well for me before.
I let my body sag, the chains taking my full weight. The metal groaned but held firm, mocking my weakness. My legs dangled uselessly beneath me, toes barely scraping the cold stone floor. I could almost touch it if I stretched. Almost.
But not quite.
Never quite.
The irony wasn't lost on me. Always reaching for something just beyond my grasp. Story of my goddamn life.
A sound echoed from somewhere in the darkness—a muffled cry, quickly cut off. My head jerked up, eyes straining against the dim torchlight.
Jessica.
She was here too. Had to be. Alpha Austin's people had a sick sense of symmetry that way. We'd conspired together, so now we suffered together. Except they made sure we were never in the same place at the same time. When Austin came down to "handle" Jessica, I hung here alone, listening to her screams echo through the stone walls. When it was my turn to face whatever fresh hell they'd cooked up, she got to enjoy her own private nightmare.
And we were always gagged. Always silenced. No chance to talk, to plan, to even fucking acknowledge each other's existence.
Austin wasn't taking any risks this time.
Smart bastard.
The door at the far end of the dungeon creaked open. My heart rate kicked up—I hated that it did, hated the Pavlovian response my body had developed to that sound. It meant pain was coming. Or worse.
Or... her.
I caught the scent first. Not the usual stench of unwashed Alpha guards or Austin's righteous fury. This was different. Colder. Like winter air and something else I couldn't quite place. Something that made my skin crawl and my pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
Well. Not just fear.
The air itself seemed to drop several degrees. My breath misted in front of my face, and I watched the torches flicker as if an invisible presence had passed too close.
She never introduced herself. Never gave me a name to curse or beg. But I always knew when she was here.
I fucking hated these visits.
I fucking lived for these visits.
Because as much as I despised her—and I did, with every fiber of my being—she was the only thing that broke up the monotony. The only reminder that I wasn't completely alone down here. That someone, somewhere, remembered Drake Reid existed.
Even if that someone was a complete psychopath.
Footsteps echoed on the stone. Slow. Deliberate. Like she had all the time in the world and wanted me to know it. The shadows shifted, and then she stepped into the torchlight.
I'd never seen her face clearly. She kept to the darkness, always just outside the firelight's reach. But I could make out the silhouette—feminine, graceful, with an unsettling stillness that no living thing should possess.
She moved closer, and I saw the smile. I always saw the smile. Even in the shadows, those lips curved with cruel delight, like a cat that had cornered a particularly entertaining mouse.
"Hello, Drake," she purred, her voice dripping with mock sweetness and genuine malice. "Did you miss me?"
I tried to respond, but the gag turned it into an incomprehensible grunt. Drool had long since dried on my chin, and my jaw ached from being forced open around the leather strap.
She laughed—a sound like broken glass scraping against ice.
"Oh, how rude of me. Here you are, all strung up and unable to properly greet your guest."
She reached up and grabbed one of the chains. I had half a second to brace myself before she used her body weight to spin around it like some demented pole dancer.
The chain twisted. Tightened. My shoulders wrenched in their sockets, white-hot pain shooting down my arms and across my back. I bit down on the gag, refusing to give her the satisfaction of hearing me scream.
She completed her spin with a little flourish, landing gracefully back on her feet. The chain slowly unwound, sending me into a slow, nauseating rotation.
"You know," she mused, watching me turn like a rotisserie chicken, "I've been thinking about you. Wondering what goes on in that stubborn head of yours. Even now, after everything, you're still full of defiance."
She grabbed the chain again, stopping my rotation. Her face was suddenly inches from mine, close enough that I could feel her breath—hot and rancid, like something that had crawled out of a grave.
"I have some questions for you, Drake. But don't worry." Her smile widened. "These aren't the kind of questions that make you cry like a little girl. Not like when Alpha Austin visits."
She reached up and untied the gag. The leather fell away, and I sucked in a desperate breath. My mouth was dry as sandpaper, my tongue swollen and clumsy.
"What do you want?" My voice came out as a raspy whisper, barely recognizable as my own.
"I want to know about Elowen."
My heart skipped a beat.
Of course. Of course this was about her. Everything always came back to Elowen, didn't it?
Her name conjured images I'd been trying to suppress for months. The way her amber eyes caught the light. The freckles scattered across her nose that she used to hate but I'd always found fascinating. Her laugh—God, her laugh. Like sunshine breaking through clouds.
The way she'd looked at me in that storage room, right before everything went to shit. Before Raven. Before the betrayal. Before I lost everything.
I kept my mouth shut, trying to school my expression into something neutral. But I could feel my jaw tightening, my eyes burning with something I refused to acknowledge as grief.
I'd fucked it all up. I knew that now. Had known it for a while, actually. Somewhere between the beatings and the starvation and the endless, crushing isolation, I'd had plenty of time to reflect on my many, many mistakes.
Elowen had been the biggest one.
"Come now, Drake," the woman coaxed, trailing a finger along my cheek. I flinched but couldn't pull away. "You two were a couple, weren't you? You must know everything about her."
She gave the chain another playful tug, sending a fresh wave of pain through my shoulders.
"What's her favorite color?"
I stared at her, my mind racing. What the hell was this about? Why did she care about Elowen's favorite color? What game was she playing?
But I knew better than to refuse. She'd keep this up all day if I didn't give her something. And while I had nothing but time, the thought of spending another twelve hours with this bitch made my skin crawl.
"Red," I croaked, hating myself for answering. "Her favorite color is red."
"Good boy." She patted my cheek like I was a well-trained dog. "And her favorite food?"
I swallowed hard, my throat clicking dryly.
"Tomato and cheese pizza. Thin crust."
She nodded, as if filing away the information for later use. The implications of that made my stomach twist.
"Favorite movie?"
I hesitated, then sighed. "Me Before You. She loved the red dress the main character wore to that concert. Said it was why she started liking the color red in the first place."
Why the fuck was I telling her this? What was she going to do with these details about Elowen's life?
The woman clapped her hands together, genuine delight spreading across her shadowed features.
"Wonderful! Now we're getting somewhere."
"Why do you care?" The words burst out before I could stop them, anger overriding self-preservation. "What the hell does any of this matter to you?"