Born of Silence (The League Gen 1 #4)(9)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

How could anything hurt so much and not kill her?

She stared down at her beautiful engagement ring as her heart shattered all over again. Holding her link in her hand, she laid her head down on her desk and wept in utter misery.

Why couldn’t I have one thing for myself? Just once?

Was that really so much to ask?

Other people were allowed to have families and spouses. People they loved and cherished without their dying on them. Why couldn’t she?

But it wasn’t meant to be. For whatever reason, the gods wanted to punish her. Unlike other people, she wasn’t allowed to love someone.

The moment she did…

They died.

Only her younger sister, Sorche, seemed immune to that curse.

Gods, the pain of his loss was so unbearable. It was like her heart was being clawed out of her chest and swallowed whole by some unrelenting beast. Why couldn’t the world explode and end her suffering?

I just want him back. She’d sell her soul for it.

Tightening her grip on the link, she stared at his name in the short list of people she trusted. Damn you, call me!

Someone knocked on her door.

Wiping her tears away, she drew a ragged breath and tried to get a hold of herself. Because of the way she’d been raised, she didn’t share personal pain with others.

Ever. Especially not those who served beneath her. Being Caronese, the men of the Resistance were already predisposed to thinking of women as lesser beings. The only reason she’d been allowed to lead was out of respect and loyalty to her father. If they saw her crying, they would refuse to follow her.

Only Kere had ever seen her weak or vulnerable. Never had he thought less of her for it. And for that reason, he was the only man alive she’d ever trusted with her real thoughts and fears.

With her heart.

Where are you, Kere?

Taking a deep breath and forcing herself not to think about that right now, she pressed her hands to her face and put on a smile she didn’t feel. “Come in.”

The door slid open to show her Pip who had a disdainful twist to his lips. With furious strides, he came into the room and tossed a small plastic bag down on the desk in front of her.

“I don’t get it,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

She scowled. “Get what?”

He jerked his chin toward the bag. “Out of everything we confiscated from our royal prisoner, that was the only thing the bastard put up a fight to keep. Only that. I figured it had to be worth a fortune given the rest of his shit and how much it cost, so I took it home and gave it to my wife. Last night, we decided we’d rather sell it and buy something we both could enjoy. So I ran it over to a jeweler to be appraised this morning, and the damn thing is as fake as it can be. He said it wasn’t worth the price of the appraisal. Can you believe it?”

That was strange. Why would a prince have a fake piece of jewelry?

But more to the point…

“The prince is still here?”

“Uh, yeah… like we were going to free him and make all of them happy after everything we’ve suffered?”

That was an entirely different story than Clarion had told her. Unmitigated fury tore through her that they’d have kept the prince here all this time.

Why hadn’t she checked on that?

The answer didn’t make her feel any better. As preoccupied as she’d been, she still should have asked Clarion about it.

Castigating herself for the neglect, her gaze fell to the ring and then something that felt like a fist, slamming into her stomach.

No…

Her heart stopped.

It was her mother’s second wedding ring. The one that her father had bought as a present when they’d been on a pilgrimage years ago and had renewed their vows…

The ring she’d placed on Kere’s pinkie…

Why would the Caronese heir have the ring she’d given to Kere?

The truth slapped her hard.

No, surely not…

Darling was too weak to look up as he heard the door open and the harsh lights flared on again. Besides, it no longer mattered to him who his torturer was.

In the beginning, he’d been determined to remember everyone who hurt him so that he could hunt them down and kill them.

But all hope of ever tasting freedom again was gone. He’d faced the truth weeks ago. He was never going to get out of here alive. And at this point, he didn’t want to.

All he wanted was to die. C’mon, you f**king bastards, just kill me.

Was that really so much to ask?

“Where did you get this?”

He could barely open his swollen eyes to see what someone was holding right under his nose.

What was it?

The woman slapped him hard on his festering cheek. “I asked you a question.”

This time, he recognized the voice.

Zarya.

Hope tore through him. Had she finally come to set him free? His breathing ragged from the effort it took, he lifted his head to meet her gaze. Surely she would recognize him this time…

But there was still no recognition in her cold amber eyes. Only bitter, cruel hatred. “Where’s Kere?”

I’m right here in front of you.

Why can’t you see me?

She backhanded him so hard that the engagement ring he’d given her sliced open his cheek again. “I want you to answer me! Now! What did you bastards do to Kere? Damn you! Tell me!”

How could he answer her? Couldn’t she see the muzzle straps that wrapped around his head to hold it in place? A muzzle that pierced his throat and tongue every time she hit him?

Blood filled his mouth, choking him until it had no choice except to run from the corners of his lips. The pain of it made his eyes water. He winced as the saline in those tears burned like acid on his skin.

Burying her hand in his hair, she wrenched his head back, which caused the muzzle to cut even deeper into his throat. “You killed him, didn’t you?”

No. They’d killed him. Her soldiers. His former allies. Her unfeeling apathy and callous disregard for what her men did to him. Their cruelty and torture had ripped the last shred of his soul out of him. He was nothing but an empty shell now.

After all the years of Arturo trying to break him, it had been his own allies who had finally succeeded.

There was no Kere left anymore. Kere had been a champion for people like her and Pip and Timmon and Clarion.

The last thing Darling desired was to help anyone now. All he wanted was for them to die slowly and painfully.

Just kill me. Please. For the love of the gods, have some compassion. A pittance of human decency. Even rabid animals were given more mercy than this.

She’d already ripped his heart out. Why wouldn’t she finish him off?

Suddenly a shrill alarm rang in short, staccato bursts.

Shouting orders and questions, people ran along the hallway outside an instant before the door to his room burst open.

Clarion paused as he saw Zarya. His look of shock turned to relief—an expression that only confirmed the fact that she must have known what they’d been doing to him. “The Sentella’s here.”

Her face lit up. “Is Kere with them?”

“I don’t know. They came in hard and shooting at us.”

Her happiness died. “What?”

“Yeah. Pip said they’re seriously pissed off over something. Damned if I know what.”

She scowled in disbelief. “That makes no sense. We haven’t done anything. Why would our allies attack us?”

Darling wasn’t sure if all of this was real or if he was hallucinating again. He’d imagined his rescue so many times…

It’s not real and you know it.

No one’s ever going to release you.

Clarion pulled his blaster from its holster. “I’m going to meet Pip at the con room. He was trying to talk to Nemesis, but he said it was ugly. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Zarya did her best to make sense of why the Sentella would attack them when they’d always been their best allies. But at least she’d get some answers now. “Send me word immediately when you find out what’s going on.”

Nodding, Clarion left.

Fear cramped her stomach. She turned back toward the prince and for the first time, she realized the horrendous condition he was in. Granted she’d been furious over Kere, but how had she failed in her anger to see what a wretched mess they’d made of him?

And the smell in his room…

She gagged on it.

What was that? It smelled like a herd of something had died and rotted.

Pressing her hand to her nose to block the foul odor, she cringed at what her soldiers had done to the poor man who hung from the ceiling by chained, raw wrists. His long red hair was matted and gnarled with blood and dirt. A thick auburn beard obscured his features and like his hair, it was matted with blood and something she thought might be vomit.

His nak*d body was bleeding and bruised everywhere. So much so, that there was a pool of blood, both dried and fresh, on the floor around his ravaged feet.

She couldn’t even begin to count the bruises and cuts that marred his frail body. A body that had been ripped when they’d brought him in.

Now…

He looked tiny and shriveled from malnourishment. Had they not fed him at all?

Not even once? From his ragged appearance, she’d say no.

Aching over his abuse, she dropped her gaze. All of a sudden, a scar on his right thigh caught her attention. Unique and unusual, it was more than familiar to her.

No…

Her heart hammered in panic. It couldn’t be.

It couldn’t.

Yet she remembered tracing a raised and puckered scar that went off in five directions like that one, on Kere’s thigh.

Right. Where. That. One. Was.

She wanted to deny the obvious. But as she looked him over with new sight, she realized he was the same height as her unseen lover. When he’d been brought in, his hair had been the same length.

His build…

Oh God, no. There was no way.

It wasn’t possible.

Was it?

Her entire body shaking from dread fear, she moved closer to him. There was one way to know for certain.

Please, let me be wrong. Please. She wasn’t sure if she could live with herself if her suspicion was right.

She cupped his chin in her hand and carefully lifted his head. Bile rose in her throat as she saw his injuries. Through that thick, matted auburn beard, Pip had carved his name deep into the prince’s right cheek. The man’s eyes were swollen closed by bruises that were in various states of healing.

Her hand shook even more as she pushed his filthy hair back from the left side of his face and she saw the confirmation of her worst fear. The prince had a vertical scar that ran from hairline to chin, over his eye.

One identical to Kere’s.

Tears welled in her eyes as reality slammed into her with a violent fist.

“When you see me, I want you to remember not to judge me by my looks… Promise me.” She’d stupidly assumed that vertical scar that bisected his face was what Kere had feared her leaving him over.

But it wasn’t.

He’d feared that when she learned he was the prince they fought against that she’d hate him for it.

Pip’s words rang in her head again as he threw her mother’s ring on her desk. “Out of everything we confiscated from our royal prisoner, that was the only thing the bastard put up a fight to keep. Only that. I figured it had to be worth a fortune given the rest of his shit and how much it cost… the damn thing is as fake as it can be. He said it wasn’t worth the price of the appraisal.”

Darling Cruel had fought only to keep her mother’s worthless ring—a ring Kere had vowed to protect with his life.

Kere had gone missing the same day Clarion had abducted the prince.

The Sentella was here and they were pissed.

Her soul screamed with a truth that terrified her. Please let me be wrong.

“Kere?”

He opened his eyes as much as he could—two small slits to pin her with a look of such profound hatred that it stole her breath.

It was then she knew it for a fact.

While she’d searched everywhere she could think of, Kere had been with her the whole time. Right here. So close that all she had to do was come into the room and find him. But the worst part of all, her own people had brutalized him and, by her ignorant silence, she’d condoned it.

What have I done?

She’d been so worried about finding Kere that she hadn’t even thought about the prince they’d held for months. For that matter, she’d stupidly thought they had already released him.

Why didn’t I check? Why?

Because I was too busy looking for him everywhere else…

Before she could say another word, the door behind her burst open. Smoke filled the room, choking her with a bitter stench.

She reached for her blaster, then froze as three targeting lasers hovered over her heart, letting her know exactly what they’d take out if she moved.

Slowly, she held her hands up so that they wouldn’t mistake her intentions.

Through the hazy smoke, three Sentella members stormed inside. And there was no mistaking the anger that was plainly evident in the way they carried themselves.

Dressed in matching black battlesuits and helmets that obscured any identifying features, the shortest one grabbed her by the arm and hauled her away from Kere, then slammed her into the wall so hard, she saw stars. The next tallest Sentella member pulled his helmet off.

He had short blue-black hair and dark eyes rimmed with black eyeliner. Eyes that filled with tears when he saw the condition the prince was in. “Darling? Oh my God… what have they done to my baby?”

Darling blinked as he heard a familiar male voice. One that was thickly accented, yet lyrical and refined.

At first he thought he was dreaming… until he saw the last face he’d ever expected to see again.

Maris.

Tears fell down Maris’s cheeks. He lifted his wrist to speak to the others through the link in his cuff. “We’ve got him, and he’s alive. But he’s hurt really badly. I need Syn here immediately. Tell him to run.” Tenderly, Maris cupped his face in his hands. “What, in the name of the gods, did they do to you, sweetie?”

What hadn’t they done to him?

Darling stared at his best friend in total disbelief. Are you real?

But he still couldn’t speak past the painful ball under his tongue.

A distorted Andarion curse rang out from the man who stood behind Maris as he came closer to inspect Darling’s condition.

Hauk. Even with the voice distortion that cloaked Hauk’s real identity, Darling would know that giant hulking form anywhere.

Or was it someone else? Darling wasn’t sure if he could trust his blurry eyesight any longer.

It wasn’t until Nykyrian, Caillen, Nero, and Syn entered the room that he finally believed this was real and not another delusion.

Even though they were swathed from head to foot by their black uniforms, he knew who they were. He’d fought beside them for too many years not to recognize the way they moved and stood.

After all this time, they’d finally come for him…

He choked on the muzzle as tears filled his eyes and stung like hell as they fell down his bloodied cheeks.

Syn let out a foul Ritadarion curse the minute he stepped in front of Darling. He repeated Maris’s words. “Dear gods, what have they done to you?”

Maris moved back to give Syn room. “I don’t know. Damn them for it. Bastards! Every one of them. I hope they all roast their nuts in hell’s hottest fires.”

Nykyrian grabbed Zarya whose eyes betrayed her terror at the giant size of him.

Almost seven feet tall with his boots on, Nemesis’s lethal carriage had made grown assassins piss their pants. He completely dwarfed Zarya. “Where’s the release for the prince’s chains?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Syn snarled as he tried to break the chain around Darling’s neck with his bare hands. “We’ve got to get him down. Fast. He’s hurting so badly that his jaw’s quivering and it’s damaging him even more.” He cupped Darling’s cheek in his gloved hand and held it so that Darling couldn’t move it anymore. Then he wiped some of the blood off Darling’s chin. “Hang on, buddy. Just a few seconds more and we’ll have you out of this.”

Shoving Zarya into Jayne’s custody, Nykyrian came forward. His anger was palatable as he grabbed the cuff around Darling’s neck and ripped it in half with his bare hands. The snapping metal was the most glorious sound Darling had ever heard.

For the first time in months, he could breathe without it cutting into his throat.

Nykyrian moved to Darling’s right wrist to break that chain, too. He froze when he saw Darling’s missing finger. Cursing, Nykyrian gave Darling’s hand a light squeeze before he tore the cuff open.

The moment he was free, Darling started to fall, but Maris caught him against his chest and held him in a tight hug. “I have you, baby. Don’t worry. No one’s going to hurt you now.”

Nero snapped the cuff on his left hand with his powers.

When Nykyrian reached for the muzzle, Syn grabbed his wrist and stopped him. “I’ll have to surgically remove it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. The f**king bastards left it on him so long, it’s grown into his throat. See the marks?”

Though they were currently hidden by the black crash helmet he wore, Nykyrian had scars on his face from when he’d been a child and a different kind of muzzle had been used on him. Like Darling’s, his muzzle had been left in place for so long it’d grown into his skin.

Nykyrian cursed again.

His breathing ragged, Darling barely heard them as he held on to Maris with what little strength he had. Never in his life had he been more grateful for his best friend’s appearance.

“I’ve got you, Darling,” Maris whispered in his ear. “Through thick and thin, brothers to the bitter end. No one’s going to hurt you again. I swear it.”

Syn gently touched Darling on the shoulder. “I’m going to knock you out, okay?”

Darling nodded. Please make the pain stop. He didn’t care if Syn’s dosage killed him so long as it made his body numb.

Syn pulled out an injector from the deep pocket on his left leg, then shot it into Darling’s arm.

Over Maris’s shoulder, Darling locked gazes with Zarya who’d been cuffed by Jayne. He saw the horrified agony in her amber eyes that were filled with tears.

I didn’t know what they did to you, she mouthed to him. I’m so sorry.

Did she really think that mattered to him now? After all he’d been through?

Go to hell, bitch.