𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍// 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟓

Blyden had brought two armed guards to aid in the escort-- as if Will could and would actually try to escape. Will knew that Blyden was expecting him to play the role of the little broken prisoner-- to keep his head down, to take small, shuffling steps, to be defeated and willing to swear fealty.

So Will did the opposite.

Raising his chin, he kept his stride tight and determined, praying that he looked confident. His injured, frail body protested, but he ignored the pain. He looked down, studying his appearance. His doctor's uniform was torn in multiple places, covered in filth and blood. His shoulder-length blonde hair fell in his face, and he tried in vain to toss it back.

He was led down hall after hall, up and down winding stairs, going up a few floors and then back down. Will, taking in every detail with the eye of a surgeon, knew they were merely leading him in circles, trying to confuse him. What they've only succeeded at doing was help him build a map of the base in his mind.

He almost felt insulted that they believed him to be so stupid. But that they underestimated him could very well play to his advantage....

Every thought went out of his head as they approached a pair of massive, richly decorated wooden doors. A guard opened them, and he was taken inside.

A man sat on a throne of Stygian Iron. He had golden hair several shades darker than Will's, and was clad in fine black clothes.

Blyden shoved Will forward, and he fell to his knees before the throne. The man stretched out a pale, claw-tipped hand and grabbed Will's chin, tilting it up to look in his eyes. "Tell me your name," he ordered.

"Will Solace." The son of Apollo knew there was no use lying.

The golden-haired man-- King Abbadon, no doubt-- dug his claws in until Will felt blood trickling down his chin. "General Blyden told me you were quite the stubborn one."

Will said nothing, looking into King Abbadon's gold eyes. They burned with a fire that could have destroyed the world. The eyes of a demon king.

"We're going to give you one more chance." There was a lethal glint in Abbadon's eyes, demanding submission. "Will you swear fealty?"

Will took a shaky breath. Not breaking eye contact, he said, "No."

Silence.

The king struck. Will's head snapped to the side, his cheek stinging. Four red lines bled, blood flowing down his cheek to join the blood on his chin.

"I thought you were smarter than this, Will Solace." Abaddon motioned to one of the guards. "Put the collar on him."

Before he could react, a metal collar was clamped around Will's throat. Pain arced through his body. Spots flashed in his vision. He choked on a scream, refusing to let it escape his lips. He would not give this king the satisfaction of his screams. Will found himself curling into a ball, his whole body shaking from the pain, along with the force of keeping his screams in.

At last, King Abbadon murmured something to the guard, and the pain faded. Will slumped to the floor, gasping for air. For a moment, he laid there, his scratched cheek pressed to the cool marble. The son of Apollo heaved himself to his knees, stumbling to his feet.

Rage unlike anything he'd felt before roared through Will. He had suffered too much to be treated like this.

"Bow," the guard ordered, waving the remote to the collar, threatening to cause the pain again. It was easy for Will to ignore him, easy to lift his chin and lock eyes with Abbadon.

Oh, it was so, so easy for Will Solace as his rage exploded, and he unleashed Hell.