“I did. I was facing life in prison. What would you have done?”
“I’ve turned on everyone,” he says, “but we’re not talking about me.”
“You turned tail and ran to Mexico.”
“I did. Or at least I made people think I did.”
“Then you of all people ought to understand what I did.”
“Did I say I didn’t understand? I’m in this for myself as much as you are. Your only problem is that I have a hell of a lot more power than you do.”
He’s not wrong.
But I have something he doesn’t. Someone worth dying for.
Two men enter the room then, force me down on a chair. Duct tape my arms to the arms of the chair and my feet to its legs.
King comes toward me then, brandishing what looks like a Swiss Army knife. “We’re going to see just how strong you are for this woman, Raven.” He walks toward me, cuts my shirt off me deftly with his knife.
And he finds my brand-new tattoo.
“Nice. Even had yourself branded with her name. I guess I never thought you had it in you.”
“What? To love someone?”
“Yeah. What happened to the Lucifer Raven who was cold as ice? Whose only idea of love was control and obsession?”
“Anyone can change,” I say. “I’m proof of that.”
“I heard you got off the sauce.”
“I did.”
“That’s a shame. Nothing to dull your pain.”
I inhale, let the breath out slowly. “I can take anything you dish out. Anything. I ask only that Katelyn stay safe.”
“We’ll see how much you can take.” King curls his lips into his trademark serpentine smile.
I don’t react. Just meet his gaze, stare him down. Show him my strength. The strength of my love for Katelyn. Harness my old and untrustworthy friend.
Nothing happens for the next few moments.
Finally, I say, “Get with it, will you?”
“We’re waiting for a special guest.”
My heart falls.
And then the door opens, and I don’t have to turn my head over my shoulder to know who it is.
“Katelyn,” I murmur.
She didn’t get away.
52
KATELYN
“Luke!”
He doesn’t turn his head, but I know it’s him. His arms and legs are taped to a chair. The two goons holding me throw me into the chair next to him.
I wait for them to tie me or duct-tape me, but they don’t.
Before I have the chance to wonder why, the other man in the room—large and menacing—smiles at me.
“I can see why you’re so taken with her, Raven.”
“Let her go,” Luke says, his jaw clenched.
“I don’t think I will,” the man says.
“It’s okay, Luke,” I say, trying to sound a lot calmer than I feel.
I want him to know. Want him to know that I want to be here with him more than I want to be anywhere else in the world.
That if I have to leave this life, I want to leave it with him.
“She has nothing to do with what you think I did to you. She’s been through hell, damn it, please. Let her go, King.”
King? The guy’s name is King?
Two guns sit on the desk. My wrists are no longer bound, though my skin is raw where the duct tape was. I’m bruised and battered, and of course they took the gun Buck gave me, but I will fight. I will fight for Luke.
I could grab a gun from the desk.
But the man. The man has a knife.
He nods to the two guys who brought me in. “Leave us,” he says. “And lock the door.”
“Don’t do anything, Katelyn,” Luke says. “Please.”
“Luke, I—"
“Please.”
I can’t make that promise. I learned survival on that island, and I will fight to the death if I must.
I will fight for Luke even if he no longer wants to fight for himself.
“Take a look at this,” the man says. He points to Luke’s shoulder.
The tattoo. The image he sent me over the phone. His new tattoo that says Katelyn.
“It’s new,” the man says. “It probably still hurts. In fact, he still has his clear bandage on it.” He pries his fingers under what looks like plastic wrap and rips it from Luke’s shoulder.
Luke winces, but he says nothing.
King holds up some kind of knife. All I see is the sharp steel blade. It sparkles, as the rays of the sun flow through the window and cast their glow on it.
“This man loves you,” King says to me. “He’s willing to give his life for you. But let’s just see how willing he is to suffer for you.”
“No, please—”
“Shut up!” King says. “The more you beg for him, the harder I will hurt him.”
I clamp my lips shut.
I’m no stranger to knives. I saw the wounds Zee had before I went to the island. They cut the tops of her breasts, and she still bears the scars. She was bleeding when she found me, my shoulders dislocated. I was cut on the island many times.
King moves behind the chair Luke is bound to, places the sharp blade of the knife against his skin.
“You will watch,” he says to me. “If you take your eyes from the knife in my hand at any time, I will end his life. If you speak at any time, I will end his life. Is that clear?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Then I nod.
“This man professes to love you. So much that he got your name tattooed on his skin. What the hell does that mean, anyway? Men do that all the time, get some woman’s name tattooed on their skin. Then there’s a bad breakup, and before you know it you’re Johnny Depp with the word wino tattooed on your body. Do you think this man loves you? That this tattoo is some kind of proof? Let me be the one to burst your bubble. This man—Lucifer Raven—is not capable of loving another human being.”
I open my mouth to refute his words, but then I remember.
I cannot speak, or he will kill Luke.
“We’ll see how much he loves you.” King positions the knife at the top of the K in Katelyn. “How lucky that he chose script. I can make one long cut.”
He slices into Luke’s flesh.
Luke winces but does not cry out.
I have no choice but to watch as King slices Luke open in the form of the K. It’s a shallow cut as far as I can tell, but beads of blood emerge on Luke’s flesh.
But Luke’s flesh is not paper, and King isn’t able to make one swift cut. He has to stop, and then he begins again with the A.
Luke grimaces. Squeezes his eyes shut. But does not let out a sound.
Rage boils inside me. I feel every cut of that knife on Luke’s skin as if it were my own.
In fact, I’d rather he be cutting me.
I’ve been cut before. I can take it.
I force my gaze to stay on King, on the knife marring Luke’s beautiful flesh.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t let out a sound.
Finally, after what seems like an hour of painstaking work, King is finished. Luke now has my name written in his own blood on his shoulder.
“There,” King says. “That’s much better. Don’t you think?” He nods to me.