As an angel trained to fight the forces of demons, Chiara knew to not let them take her alive, but she never expected to survive her first battle. Trapped in the depths of hell and tortured, only one thing is keeping her alive - the demon kept priso...
Chained to the wall, Chiara couldn't move. Zeigfel—he must be the demon who had sent Logan here to be tortured for a petty crime involving whiskey—picked up the whip. With the way he looked at her, she could already feel the barbs biting her skin. She was nearly naked, and her stomach churned acid as his eyes lingered on her breasts. He practically licked his lips.
A tremor started deep in her bones. They could do anything they wanted to do to her and she could not even cover herself from their cruel sight with her wings. She hated her weakness. She hated the shaking that rattled the chains. Zeigfel's expression warmed in response to her fear.
He came closer, the predator who knows his prey is trapped.
"And what delicious toy is this? Who does she belong to? I want her," he said to Dirk.
"Lucius's prize from the battle. No touchy-touchy," Dirk said, the hunger to hurt her in his expression, too.
"And what a prize she is. From the battleground? I didn't know they came in this size and shape from battlegrounds," Zeigfel said. "Although, I have heard rumors of female warriors. She's built for fighting, I admit. But still, I thought they were myths. Tell me, angel, am I right: they put you in the battles to rally morale. Or do they simply keep you in barracks to rally morale?"
She lifted her chin to gaze past him.
He grabbed her face. He was so close the metal and leather of his armor scraped the raw skin of her chest and belly. "Tell me, my sweetness, has Lucius broken you in, yet?"
She clamped her jaw shut.
Dirk hissed uncomfortably. The orders from Lucius had been clear—if anything happened to her that wasn't by his orders, Dirk would find himself hanging on the wall in her place.
"I was at the battle, you know," Zeigfel continued, trying another angle. "Well, afterwards for the most part, since my troops had been used for the distraction at the White Wall. I've never seen so many dead angels at one time. The blood turned the garden into marsh. I kept my boots clean by walking on their bodies."
"One day I will wipe demon slime from my boots on you," she said before she could stop herself.
He chuckled bracing his elbow on the wall. He brushed a matted strand of hair from her cheek. "Do you hear her? She's like a kitten baring its fangs when you take its bowl of milk away. Adorable. Do you purr, little kitten?"
She narrowed her eyes, refusing to answer.
He cracked the whip, roaring, "You will learn to answer me, angel! You will bow and beg and be grateful for the scraps I throw you from my table."
"Master Zeigfel," Dirk whispered, sidling closer. In his hand dangled a heavy, iron mace. Chiara knew all too well what he could do to a demon's head with that weapon. "She belongs to Lucius."
Zeigfel gripped Chiara's chin again, digging his fingers into her cheeks. He spoke to Dirk, but had his mouth mere inches from hers. His hot, sickening sweet breath fluttered on her cheek. "Why don't you arrange some time alone for me, then? I've been tense lately and could use the fun."
An exaggerated sigh came from Logan. "Fuck, Zeigfel. I'm getting bored over here. Are you going to start this torture or is having to listen to you beg for a shiny new toy part of the program?"
Zeigfel spun around so fast, he scratched burning marks in Chiara's face. But he wasn't interested in her anymore. She filled her lungs with air, careful not to sag with relief as she exhaled.
From across the room, he whipped Logan's face, tearing off half of it in one swipe.
Logan couldn't even scream the shock was so brutal.
A gasp—the beginning of a scream—came from Chiara's throat instead. The echo of his pain was in her. She closed her eyes to not see or feel what came next, but the sight of him burned in her memory.
One day, I will wipe Zeigfel's blood from my sword and then kick his dead body into the pits of the condemned at the edges of heaven to let the evil souls there feast on his.
One day...
Logan was screaming now. Zeigfel laughed. Chiara refused to watch. She tried to picture the garden instead. She would take Logan there with her in her mind, and away from this pit. She tried to walk the paths—the trees, the pollen floating like snow, bird song and the stream running over stones as it flowed from the rocky cliff at the far end. The flowers bowing in the breeze. Their hands almost touching....
Zeigfel's hissing voice filled her head, ripping through the garden, just as Logan's voice filled the room. "You will bow and beg and be grateful for the scraps!"
I will survive long enough to destroy him.
Her breathing matched Logan's, gasping in, letting the air out, but she was silent to his screams.
Without warning, Logan had changed their game. He had turned Zeigfel's attention to himself, away from her, and was now paying the price.
*** What does Logan stand to gain by helping Chiara? Hit the star if you liked this chapter! ***
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
