Torment: A Dark Romance by Esme Devlin

Author:Esme Devlin [Devlin, Esme]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-12T18:30:00+00:00

13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

BARON

I don’t really feel anything when I tie his wrists to the back of Cut’s 4X4.

I’m well aware that I’m supposed to. Anger. Rage. Enjoyment. Glee.

Revenge.

Is revenge a feeling?

I don’t know and I cannot summon the urge to care.

Revenge is probably more of a want than a feeling, I guess.

But the only thing I really, truly want right now is to sleep. Wake up when it’s over. And I don’t mean the execution. I mean all of it. Everything.

I admit I volunteered to do this, however, they all seem to be under the impression it will serve as some kind of justice. Some type of closure, perhaps.

Done and dusted.

Finished and forgotten.

The End.

I’m under no such pretense. Not anymore.

Do you know the human brain can barely comprehend the difference between imagining something happening and the thing actually happening? The emotions, the feelings, the thoughts which both scenarios muster are almost entirely the same.

I thought about killing him a thousand different ways when I was sitting in the hall.

There’s a Dule tree in the courtyard for hanging. I’d cut him down just before he passed out, slice him from cock to throat like I used to do with Cut. Pull everything out and make him watch the dogs feast on his insides. But what if he died before I could cut him down? What then?

Too risky.

There’s a stable full of horses. I’d tie his arms to one horse and his legs to another. Slap them so hard they’d shred his body to ribbons. But then it would be over.

Too quick.

There’s an entire chamber of horrors under the castle. I’d tie him up and cut little pieces away from him over hours, over days, over years. Fingers. Toes. Ears. Balls. Then arms. Then legs. Anything not required to sustain basic human life. But that takes commitment.

Too pointless. All of it.

My brain thought it was all happening while I was thinking about it, and none of it made me feel better.

None of it made me feel anything at all.

And that’s when I realized none of it ever would.

“Cian?”

Cut has to shout to be heard over the sobs and sniffles.

Fucking pathetic, Maxim.

“It’s Baron.”

Baron, please. Please, Baron. I’ll do anything, Baron.

He’s done more than enough, don’t you think?

I stand, kicking the wet mud right into his face in the hopes he’ll finally shut it. Then I throw the car keys at my brother.

He looks at me strangely. “You sure?”

“Just fucking drive.”

I get into the passenger seat and Cut takes the driver’s side like I told him to, switching on the ignition but not fucking driving — like I told him to. “Which part of that simple instruction was somehow unclear to you?”

He says nothing. Merely shifts the car into gear and drives.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

Slow enough for me to hear Maxim screaming up his lungs behind us as he’s dragged along the cobbles and muck and horseshit of the courtyard.

“Stop.”

Cut pulls up the handbrake and I open the door and jump down.

Maxim is all grazed and bloody and the rags he was wearing on his bottom half are a good ten feet back the way.

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