Wehr Wolff Castle by B. Bentley Summers

Author:B. Bentley Summers [Summers, B. Bentley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Horror
ISBN: 9781947139459
Google: 6vfvtAEACAAJ
Amazon: B073RWDKQW
Publisher: NineStar Press
Published: 2017-07-23T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Xylander and Houk

May 12, 1940

Wehr Wolff Castle, Nazi Germany

The trip to Hagen’s new home below the castle was a mixture of sheer terror, stupefaction, and blurred moments.

His guards took him inside a small room with bookshelves on the far wall, a long table at one end, and a diagram of the castle hanging on the wall. Martz and the cleft-lipped Dexer waited for him a few feet from the doorway. Martz murmured to have Hagen’s handcuffs removed, and one of the guards quickly complied.

His guards squeezed his arms. Dexer stepped up, his bottom teeth gleaming through his hole. That wound was still raw and hideous. Dexer stared at Hagen and, without warning, punched him in the stomach. Hagen collapsed to his knees, coughing and rasping. Hagen could envision the handkerchief in his pocket and, with it, the dark power.

I want that power. Now. Please.

Someone pulled on his hair, and Hagen looked up at Martz, the man’s hard gaze piercing into him.

Martz spoke, his voice steady and calm. “I taught Dexer that. Effective, isn’t he? If it was me, you’d not able to breathe again.” He patted Hagen’s cheek with stinging slaps. “You and I in a ring, I’d turn you to mincemeat. But that would not do; I will break you but keep you very much alive. Why did you give your brother’s name? Why did you say your name at all? What was your mission?”

The guards pulled Hagen back to his feet. Martz took Hagen’s right hand and twisted his finger. Hagen bit down on his lip but didn’t make an utterance. He was losing his ability to think clearly, though, and soon everything would tumble out of his mouth.

Martz kept hold of Hagen’s finger and asked in a calm, collected manner, “You think you can keep your tongue still? That’s a great fantasy. Who was your contact? Who’s helping you?” Martz rotated his wrist, and Hagen’s finger snapped.

Hagen shrieked out in pain, but his guards kept him in place.

Martz stared down at the broken finger, and asked, “Dexer, what did the general say?”

“Broken, but alive.”

“Right,” Martz said, and grinned. “I have a soft spot in me, though, Messer. Let me fix that.” Martz grabbed Hagen’s finger, yanked, and it crackled.

Hagen cried out in pain, streams of tears falling from his eyes.

“What finger is next?”

Hagen muttered, “S-stop. I didn’t know.”

Martz frowned, leaned closer, and asked, “Didn’t know what?”

“I didn’t know the Nazis wanted me.”

Martz straightened. “No idea you had family lineage to the Wehr Wolffs?”

Hagen met Martz’s eyes and shook his head. The truth he felt was so much easier to speak than keeping up any lies. Hagen looked back down. He was fatigued, hungry, and demoralized. His hopes had been crushed, and the only thing that kept his mouth completely sealed was not any loyalty to governments, but Liam. The image of Liam kissing him was vivid. I have to protect him as long as I can.

Martz asked, “Who are your contacts?”

Hagen’s head bobbed, and he met Martz’s hard gaze for one second.

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