Born of Silence (The League Gen 1 #4)(8)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

Sick to her stomach with fear and trepidation, she reached for her link, wanting to talk to Kere and ask him what she should do. If anyone could advise her on this matter, it would be he.

She pressed his number.

It went straight to voicemail. “You’ve reached subsector 8-8-4-9-0-5. I can’t take your call right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back with you.”

She savored the rich sound of his deep, masculine voice. “Hey, baby, it’s me. Can you please call me as soon as you get this? I really need to hear from you. Love you.” Sighing, she hung up, then went to her ledger so that she could pull up the news.

Sure enough, they were already reporting the kidnapping.

The male journalist’s eyes glowed with glee. “Yes, you heard that correctly. Darling Cruel, the heir to the Caronese Empire, was taken today from Zanderov in the Garvon Sector by a group who has yet to identify themselves. During the abduction, the Princess Annalise Cruel was shot in the hangar. We have no word on her condition and no word from the abductors…” The reporter kept talking, but Zarya couldn’t hear anything else as her heart pounded in her ears.

Clarion had shot the princess? Why had the moron failed to mention that?

Because he knew I’d kill him for it.

Oh dear gods…

This would call down the League on them in addition to the Caronese. While the counselor wasn’t fond of the Resistance and did make concentrated efforts to put them down, they’d never really been his priority before.

After this, that would change.

Terrified, she left her office and stormed toward Clarion’s. You flipping, stupid, mentally deficient… She couldn’t think of insults foul enough to call him. The Caronese would tear them apart over this. While Darling might be hated by everyone, the princess most certainly wasn’t. Since the moment she’d kissed her father’s coffin during his funeral procession and had said good-bye to him when she’d only been a tiny child, Annalise had held the very heart of their people.

They adored their princess and the people they relied on to help them would be up in arms that anyone had dared to harm her. Especially one of their own…

Everyone would turn against the Resistance now.

Her hands shaking, she opened Clarion’s door without knocking and stepped inside. She froze as she heard Arturo’s voice on a secured, untraceable line.

“I don’t care what you do with that little bastard. Cut him into pieces. Feed him to your sister. Flush him through an airlock. Whatever. I don’t pay ransoms to terrorists. Nor do I negotiate. As far as I’m concerned, he was dead the minute you took him. So shove your ransom demand up your ass and don’t waste my time again.” The counselor cut the transmission.

Stunned, Clarion cursed as he sat back in his chair.

Zarya couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. The cold, harsh brutality.

Kere had been right. The counselor had no heart whatsoever. How could anyone be that viciously callous about the life of their own family?

The same man who killed your mother and sister for daring to ask for mercy for your father…

But that wasn’t what concerned her most. By their actions today, her men had broken numerous League laws. And that was something that carried a harsh death sentence should they ever fall into League custody.

“Why did you shoot the princess?”

Clarion swung around in his chair like he was ready for battle. His features relaxed as he saw her. “I didn’t. The prince did.”

“What do you mean?”

Clarion pulled her tricom off his belt and set it on the desk in front of him.

Fury tore through her as she felt her waist to find it gone. “What exactly did you do?”

“After you told me what it was this morning, I borrowed it for today. Just in case. Boy, was I right and glad we had it.”

Disgust for him overwhelmed her. That’s what you get for having a thief as your second in command. He’d sworn to her that he was reformed. Obviously, he was as much a liar as he was a thief. “Are you completely insane?”

A tic started in his jaw. “Hey, the little prick opened fire on us. Had we not had it, one of us wouldn’t have come home. Would you rather we be hurt?”

Reminding herself that she couldn’t show her emotions or else she’d be replaced as their leader, she took it off his desk, and counted to ten. The one thing she hated about being Caronese, they were a patriarchal race and in the mind of most men, women didn’t belong in the military or in politics. And as leader of the Resistance, she was neck deep in both.

Still, she wanted to beat him for what he’d done. “Of course not, but you had no right to take this from me. It wasn’t designed for you.”

“Sue me, then, okay? Besides we have bigger problems.” Clarion sat back in his chair. “What do I do with a prince no one wants?”

“I don’t know, Captain Intelligent. You were the mastermind behind this fiasco. Fix it.”

Clarion rolled his eyes. “How?”

Like she had a clue? “I’ll talk to Kere and see what he thinks. Maybe the Sentella has something we can use to wipe his memory and we can dump him somewhere that they can find him.”

“Fine. But while we have him, maybe we can use him.”

Another fear settled deep inside her. After this mess, she wasn’t sure of his intentions anymore. “What do you mean?”

Clarion wagged his eyebrows as a smile split his face. “Think about it, Z. As the royal prick, Darling can give us details about security on the palace and all the government buildings. There’s no telling what all he’s been privy to that could prove invaluable to us. Do I have your permission to interrogate him?”

She mulled the idea over. Clarion could be on to something. If they had details about security and Arturo’s plans, it could save a lot of lives.

Still…

It’s only an interrogation. She’d done dozens of them herself over the years with various prisoners. It wasn’t like they were going to torture him or anything. A few questions before they released the prince.

What was the harm?

“If you must.”

Clarion’s smile widened. “Thank you.”

Inclining her head to him, Zarya left his office and pulled her link out again. She tried Kere one more time, but again all she got was his voicemail.

C’mon, baby, answer me soon.

Then, she tried calling the Sentella who refused to do anything more than take a message for him.

Why wasn’t he getting back to her? It wasn’t like him to go this long without at least texting her a note to say he’d call her when he had a chance.

By the time she returned to her office, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach had bred babies. They were jumping up and down, until she was absolutely ill with nausea.

Kere was in trouble. She knew it. She could sense it with every part of her being.

But how could she find him when she didn’t know who he really was?

5

Darling hung from chains by his throbbing, bleeding wrists. Both of his legs had been broken repeatedly so that his wrists supported all his weight.

Unrelenting pain coursed through him with merciless knives that shredded every part of him…

It was unbearable. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness. The horror of his time here in Resistance custody blurred with his stints in mental institutions, and the times his uncle had punished him at home. They blended together into one unending nightmare of bitter agony.

I just want it to stop.

At this point, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been held. It seemed like eternity, but since he couldn’t see daylight, he had no way of gauging one day from another. Unless they were coming in to hurt him, which they did at random intervals, they kept the lights off. Something they thought added to his misery.

But it didn’t. Courtesy of his mother’s mutated genes, he saw as well in pitch-black darkness as he did in brightest sunlight.

Right now, his head swam and his empty stomach churned so much that he feared he might vomit again—something that made the muzzle tear into his throat and choke him with blood and bile. Worse, it produced a severe drowning sensation, like being waterboarded.

The pain and deprivation, as well as the fever he’d been burning, caused him to hallucinate. Sometimes he thought he saw his father. Or his uncle.

His friends.

But the two people who haunted him most were Maris and Zarya. They drifted in and out of the room like ghosts who tormented him with memories of better days. Of the happy future he’d thought to have.

Sometimes the loss of that dream was even harder to bear than the torture.

The only truth he knew for certain was that he was starving, aching, and woefully alone.

No one had come for him. Even though he had a tracking chip encoded in his body that Arturo had used to find him over and over again when Darling hadn’t wanted him to, no one came.

So what’s new?

Stop it. They were looking for him. They were. This wasn’t the same as when he was in a mental institution and his friends couldn’t get him out without a court order or his uncle’s permission. He was in a secure facility that would block his chip from transmitting to an outside source. That was the only reason they hadn’t found him.

It had to be.

Nykyrian had known that he would be bringing Lise to his home. The minute Nyk caught word of her death and of Darling’s kidnapping, he and the rest of the Sentella would be out scouring space for him.

So would Maris.

His friends wouldn’t betray him.

Only Zarya had done that. And what cut him deepest were the times when he heard her voice through the door as she walked past it. Especially when she was laughing with the very people who tortured him.

He’d been willing to give her the universe.

She couldn’t even give him the time of day. How could she, as the Resistance leader, not come in here and see what they were doing to their prisoner? Did she know or did she just not care what they did?

How could she not know? his mind kept asking. The rebels constantly bragged about it to others—another thing he’d heard outside his room at all hours. They thought his humiliation and torture were funny, and they mocked him for it. That was what ate at him constantly.

How could he have so misjudged the people he’d been willing to die for?

How could he have ever trusted Zarya?

All men and women lie. But never lie to yourself. That had been one of the primary rules his father had forced him to memorize as a boy. Never be deceived by others.

And never deceive yourself.

Yet his love for Zarya had blinded him to her real nature. She was every bit as apathetic to the suffering of others as Arturo. She didn’t care enough about her prisoner to even open the door. Or click on the cameras that were pointed at him.

That would only take seconds of her time.

Unless she sat in her office watching what they did to him. That one thought alone was enough to drive him insane. Had she watched them as they beat him to the brink of death? Was she one of the people who laughed at him while he suffered? One of the ones who enjoyed watching his misery?

“You don’t look so regal now, Highness. What? Commoners offend you? You still think you’re too good to be with us, don’t you?”

But those were their insecurities. He’d never felt that way about anyone. And every time they mocked him, it made him wonder if Zarya was sitting on the other side of the camera, doing the same. Laughing at him. Telling them to hurt him more…

Had she ever loved him at all? Or had she used Kere for his money and military support? Didn’t she miss him in any capacity?

From the sounds of her in the hallway whenever she spoke to the others, it didn’t seem like she’d even noticed he was gone.

Was he nothing more than a means to her end? He didn’t want to think that. He tried not to.

But nothing else made sense.

Not that it really mattered to him anymore.

Nothing did. The one good thing about pain and grief were that they put everything else in perspective.

Even if he survived this, he was mangled so badly at this point he’d be lucky to walk again. Never mind fight. Every day, his body shut down more and more. It no longer even felt like it was his. Rather, he seemed to be a caricature in a hazy kaleidoscope.

Just let me die. Please. He was through with trying to live for revenge.

Why should he?

Lise was dead because of him. He should have left her in school. Had he not tried to make it better, she’d be alive and he…

He’d be in pain, but not like this. As bad as his past had been, it didn’t compare to what they’d done to him since his capture. None of it. His head reeled from memories of their abuse that he knew would never leave him. Those images would torture him into eternity.

And he didn’t want any more memories shredding his dignity and tearing into what little self-esteem he’d managed to salvage from the brutality of his life.

I’m through. There was nothing left but the dying that refused to come and relieve him of his misery.

“I’m heading home, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He winced at the sound of Zarya’s cheery voice outside his room. There was no grief in her tone. No sign that she was missing him, or even concerned about Kere at all. There hadn’t been. Not once the whole time he’d been held.

I’m not even worth a passing thought.

She never even mentioned his name or said that she was looking for him.

“I copied you in on the report I sent over to Sirce,” she continued to whomever she was talking to. “I’m not sure what they’ll do with it, but I wanted to make sure they had it, just in case. Do you have any plans for the weekend?”

“Not really,” Clarion said. “I’ll probably stay here and work through it. What about you?”

“My sister’s coming in for a visit, and Ture’s meeting us for dinner tonight. It should be quiet for a few days.”

“With you two? I doubt that. I can just imagine the late night slumber party with both of you dressed in lacy underwear, having pillow fights on your bed.”

Zarya laughed. “You really need to stop watching those crap programs, Clair. Women don’t do that.”

“Sure you don’t. That’s just a lie you tell us guys so that it won’t make us any crazier than normal.”

She laughed again. “Good night, hon. I’m out of here before I’m late to dinner. See you later.”

Late to dinner…

He could only vaguely recall what it was like to sit at a table and eat his fill. I hope you choke on it, bitch.

Never had Darling hated anyone more than he did her. She would go home and have a fun weekend with her sister and best friend while he would never see his again.

The image of his precious Lisie lying dead was permanently seared into his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blood pooling around her. His guilt flogged him more than they ever could.

I’m so sorry, Lisie. Please forgive me for failing you.

The door opened to admit Clarion who wore a gas mask to protect himself from the noxious odors in the room. If only Darling could escape it.

Even for a nanosecond.

But Darling had to give his ex-ally credit. Clarion had told him when his uncle refused to pay the ransom that they were going to take all of their ills out on his hide and make him wish he’d never been born a prince.

They’d certainly delivered well on that vow.

Funny how that was the only promise someone had ever made to him that they’d kept. Not the one to love or protect him.

Just the one to make him regret every breath he took.

Clarion turned the lights on. “You asleep, Your Royal Faggotry?” He slapped Darling’s face, causing the muzzle to bite into his tongue and throat.

Darling wanted to lunge at him, but all he could do was turn his head so that Clarion could slap something other than the bone deep gash on his cheek that had festered over the last few days from an infection he hoped killed him.

“Sorry about our poor hospitality. I was told that no one’s fed you in the last three days. We can’t have you dying on us, now can we?”

Cold, fierce panic went through Darling. Not only could he not stand them feeding him, it was what they usually fed him that was the worst. He did his best to resist, but it was as futile as trying to stand.

Against all his efforts, Clarion grabbed him by the throat and tilted his head back so that he could pour a cold, salted broth into his mouth.

Thank the gods, it was broth this time. Still, the spices and salt made every injury in his mouth and throat burn and ache as he choked on the blood and broth mixture. Worse came when he coughed and the barbs bit in even deeper. It was more than his weakened body could take.

Unable to tolerate the agony, he finally passed out.

A week later, Zarya called the Sentella. Again. “Can I please speak to Kere?”

“I’m sorry, he’s not here.”

If she heard that one more time, she was going to scream. “Why can’t someone help me? Isn’t there anyone I can talk to about his current location?”

Or lack thereof?

“We don’t give out that kind of information. Sorry.” The woman hung up on her.

Zarya wanted to kill someone. As of today, it’d been nineteen weeks since she’d last spoken to her fiancé.

Nineteen. Weeks. Tomorrow would be five months.

His voicemail had filled up over three months ago, and hadn’t been cleared.

I know he’s dead. He had to be. It was the only explanation that made sense. Why else had he not called her?

Kere would never leave her hanging like this. Without word. Without notice. Not by choice. He knew her better than that. Thought more of her than to hurt her this way.

He was gone.

Just like my father. She winced at the comparison. But how could she deny it another minute?

Why wouldn’t someone, anyone tell her the truth about his whereabouts? She had used what little money she had to bribe every informant she could find for some clue.

No one took mercy on her. For weeks, she’d searched even though she didn’t know where he’d gone or where he lived.

Why aren’t you here?

The Sentella had to know he was dead. Why wouldn’t they just say it already so that she could stop hoping that the next time she called his number, he’d pick up and chastise her for not eating and for being worried about him when there was no need?

Just call me, baby. Please, don’t be dead… please.

The very thought of it tore through her and left her light-headed. It hurt to a level she’d never imagined was possible, and it made a mockery of the grief she’d had when her family had died.