Ronan

Chapter Ten

Against her will, Rosa returned to the glass room in the dodgy recording studio, knowing all too well this setup would haunt her in the future. Her worst memories had been spread from place to place throughout history, but they'd all be linked to the here and now.

Any progress she'd made with Ronan wouldn't matter within these walls.

He'd do anything to get what he wanted from her.

"I see you've gotten me a chair today," She noted, collapsing into it with resign. "How nice of you."

Ronan followed after her, fixing the chains across her body. "There's no need to draw your torture out."

"Isn't there?"

"I just want the prophecy."

"But you and I both know what you'll be seeing today."

Today, he'd have a front row seat to unimaginable pain. Her every nightmare started from this moment onwards.

She bit her tongue as he forced the crown across her scalp, wires plugged into her body.

"I think it'll be good for you," She snarked. "To live through what I went through. To feel the most important part of your very being stripped from you. Never to grow back. Never to be with you again. With hellfire. Gone forever."

"It gives your sister's wings a certain flare, no?"

She choked on her spit. "What?"

"Her new wings are armed with the same poison that stole her last pair. Her new pair wouldn't be removed so easily."

She swallowed, staring.

"You put some thought into that one."

"I'm nothing if not a perfectionist."

"Ha. Is that right?"

Ronan was the furthest thing from a perfectionist. She'd seen the corpses he'd left behind. So long as the result satisfied him, the means didn't matter.

"Your hood's back."

It drooped low over his face, hiding him from her, as ever.

"I could give you a pair."

"Of wings?"

"If you wanted them."

Her mouth dried.

Meg's wings were stunning in a haunting sense. They were demonic, fitting her new role as the Queen of the fire demons perfectly. Though Rosa missed her wings with everything she had, she'd have to pass on a pair like that.

Besides, there was no point.

"Why bother? I'll never get the chance to try them out."

The effort would only be wasted on her.

"You're not going to die."

Uh hum.

"What?"

"I have no intention of killing you."

"What? No—you're lying."

"Why would I lie?"

Because that was what he did. He strung her along. He'd continue to do so, forever, until he no longer needed her.

The more he delved through her memories, the closer that day came.

"Because I know too much," She answered hotly. "I know your stupid prophecy. I know how Triumph works. Hell, I know what you look like. I know about your... condition. There's no way you'd let me keep breathing with that knowledge. Your paranoia—your condition—wouldn't let you risk it. You'd strike me down in a fit of rage. Bye bye Rosa."