Chapter 71 The Black Chamber Again
RICO
The silver burns before they even touch me. That's how I know I'm in the Black Chamber. The air itself is poisoned.
I'm chained to a wall in a cell barely six feet square. Silver manacles around wrists and ankles. Silver collar around my throat. Every breath draws the metal's toxicity deeper into my lungs.
I've been here three days. I think. Hard to track time when every moment is agony.
The door opens. Vampire guard, young-looking but probably ancient. They all are.
"Feeling chatty yet?" he asks pleasantly.
I spit blood at his feet. "Fuck you."
"That's not very cooperative." He tsks. "And here I thought three days would soften you up. Maybe you need another session."
Another session. That's what they call torture here. Sessions. Like we're in therapy instead of a dungeon.
"I already told you," I rasp. "I don't know anything."
"You're part of Brennan's crew. You know plenty." He consults a file. "Rico Martinez. Turned six months ago, left your pack after Alpha tried to sell you to blood clubs. Joined the Rookeries resistance three months ago. Close to Callum Brennan personally."
All true. All information they already have.
"So why ask questions you know the answers to?"
"Because I want the information you don't think we know." He sets the file aside. "How many wolves in Brennan's crew? What are his plans? Who are his allies? Where does he get funding?"
I laugh. It turns into a cough that brings up blood. "You think we have funding? We're stealing food to survive."
"Someone's providing resources. Brennan's operation is too organized to be purely improvised." The vampire leans closer. "Who's helping him?"
"Nobody. We help each other."
"Lies." His hand moves faster than I can track. Pain explodes across my face. "Try again."
I taste copper. More blood. My healing is suppressed by the silver, so every injury just accumulates.
"There's a nurse," I finally admit. They probably know about Isla anyway. "She runs shelters. Helps newly turned wolves."
"Isla Reid. Yes, we know about her." The vampire makes a note. "Who else? The dhampir. Valentina Corvino. What's her role?"
My heart stutters. They know about Valentina.
"Don't know any Valentina."
"Really?" He shows me a photo. Valentina's face, clear as day. "Because our surveillance shows her meeting with Brennan regularly. Information broker, we think. Possibly more."
Fuck. They've been watching closer than we thought.
"She brings news sometimes," I admit. "About Parliament, pack politics. Public stuff."
"Where does she get this information?"
"I don't know." Truth. Valentina never explained her sources and we never asked.
The vampire studies me. "You're telling the truth about that. Interesting. So Brennan trusts her without knowing her connections."
He's pulling information from what I'm not saying. Shit.
"How many wolves in the resistance?"
"Fifty," I lie.
"Try again."
"Sixty."
"Closer." He consults his file. "Our last count was sixty-three. Has it grown since?"
I don't answer. That's an answer itself.
"It has." He sounds pleased. "How many now? Seventy? Eighty?"
"I've been in here three days. How would I know?"
Valid point. He concedes it with a nod.
"What's Brennan planning? We know Parliament's preparing an extermination order. What's his response?"
"We're going to fight." Another truth. Easier than lying when I don't know the actual plan.
"Sixty-plus packless wolves against Parliamentary hunters. That's suicide, not strategy." The vampire leans back. "He must have something else planned. Alliance with another pack? Fae involvement? Witch support?"
I keep my face neutral. Don't know about fae involvement specifically, but the vampire's fishing. Throwing out possibilities to see what I react to.
"We're organizing," I say vaguely. "Building community. Helping each other survive."
"How noble." His smile is cruel. "And how doomed. You know you're all going to die, right? Parliament won't allow this to continue."
"Then we die together. Better than dying alone."
"Is it?" He stands, walks to the door. "I'll give you tonight to reconsider cooperation. Tomorrow we escalate."
"Escalate to what? You're already torturing me."
"Physical torture, yes. Tomorrow we try mental." He pauses in the doorway. "We have witches who specialize in nightmares. Make you live your worst fears over and over. Break your mind instead of your body. Much more effective."
He leaves.
I'm alone with the silver and the pain.
Three days. I've lasted three days without giving them anything critical. But I don't know how much longer I can hold out.
The door opens again hours later. Different vampire, this one female, wearing Parliamentary insignia.
"Rico Martinez." She doesn't ask. Statement of fact.
"Who's asking?"
"Someone interested in your cooperation." She pulls up a chair, sits just outside the silver's range. Smart. Stays safe while I suffer. "I represent Lord Mordaunt directly. He's willing to offer you a deal."
"Not interested."
"You haven't heard the terms."
"Don't need to. Fuck Mordaunt. Fuck Parliament. Fuck all of you."
She sighs. "Predictable. Let me explain what's going to happen. Tomorrow the witch arrives. You'll spend three days living your worst nightmares on repeat. Most wolves go feral from the trauma. The ones who don't usually kill themselves after."
My hands shake. Can't help it.
"But it doesn't have to be that way." She leans forward. "Tell us everything. Brennan's plans, his allies, his resources. In exchange, we'll release you. Clean record, fresh start, new pack placement."
"You want me to betray Callum."
"I want you to save yourself." Her voice softens. "Brennan's resistance is doomed. You know it. I know it. Parliament knows it. The only question is whether you die with him or live past him."
"Some things are worth dying for."
"Are they?" She stands. "I'll be back tomorrow after your first session with the witch. Let's see if your conviction survives that."
She leaves.
I'm alone again.
The silver burns. My wounds ache. My body screams for healing it can't access.
But I don't break.
Not yet.
Because Rico's right. Some things are worth dying for. Community. Loyalty. The knowledge that sixty-three wolves are building something better than this.
Even if we all die trying, at least we tried.
Morning comes eventually. I know because the torture schedule is precise. Dawn means breakfast. A bowl of thin soup pushed through the cell door. Not enough to sustain a wolf but enough to keep me alive for more questioning.
I'm drinking it when the door opens.
New vampire. Older, with dead eyes. Behind him, a woman in black robes. Witch, I guess.
"Rico Martinez." The vampire checks his file. "Ready for your session?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really." He nods to the witch. "Proceed."
She starts chanting. Words in a language I don't recognize. The air thickens, grows heavy.
Then the nightmares start.
I'm back in my old pack. Alpha's selling me to vampires. I can see the blood club, smell the venom, feel the addiction taking hold.
No. This isn't real. It's magic. Illusion.
But it feels real.
The scene shifts. I'm in the Rookeries. Hunters are killing everyone. Isla's screaming. Callum's bleeding out. Valentina's staked. Everyone's dying and I can't save them.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
Another shift. I'm transforming but it's wrong. Going feral, losing humanity, becoming monster. I watch myself kill innocent humans. Children. Babies.
I scream.
The nightmares continue. One after another, each worse than the last. Every fear, every guilt, every trauma played on repeat until I can't tell what's real anymore.
It lasts hours. Or days. Time doesn't work right in nightmares.
When it finally stops, I'm sobbing. Broken. Empty.
The witch looks satisfied. "He'll talk now."
The vampire approaches. "Rico. Tell us about Brennan's plans."
"He's..." My voice cracks. "He's got maybe seventy wolves now. Building shelters. Organizing resistance."
"Allies?"
"Isla. Valentina. Some guy named Tom who's fae-touched." The words pour out. Can't stop them. "They're planning something. I don't know what. Callum keeps plans close."
"The dhampir. Where is she?"
"Rookeries. She's there a lot. Brings information."
"From where?"
"Don't know. Never said."
The vampire exchanges glances with the witch. "He's telling the truth. He really doesn't know details."
"Useless." The witch sounds disappointed. "Three days of torture for basic information we already had."
"Not completely useless." The vampire makes notes. "We confirmed Valentina's location. Parliament wants her alive."
My blood goes cold. What did I just do?
"Send hunters," the vampire says to someone outside. "The dhampir's in the Rookeries. Lord Mordaunt wants her captured, not killed."
No. No, no, no.
"Wait," I gasp. "I lied. She's not there. I was confused."
"Now you're lying." The witch looks amused. "Before, you were broken and honest. Now you're trying to protect her. Too late."
The vampire leaves to arrange the capture.
I slump against the wall.
I broke. Three days of torture and I broke. Gave them Valentina's location.
She's going to be captured because I couldn't stay strong.
The witch packs up her materials. "Don't feel too bad. Everyone breaks eventually. You lasted longer than most."
Then I'm alone again.
Alone with the knowledge that I betrayed Valentina.
Alone with the silver and the pain and the guilt.
Outside my cell, I hear vampires mobilizing. Planning the capture. Discussing strategy.
"Lord Mordaunt wants her alive," one says.
"Excellent. We'll send hunters. I want her alive."
The words echo through the dungeon.
Through my cell.
Through my broken mind.
I want her alive.