I watched as the tension drained from his shoulders. He let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "You really need to stop phrasing things like that. You're going to give someone a heart attack one of these days."
"I'd rather give someone a heart attack than let you treat me again," I muttered.
He shot me an offended look. "Excuse you? I saved your life."
That only made my eye twitch.
Saved my life—sure. At what cost?
My mind immediately replayed that cursed memory.
That mission. Four fractured ribs. A broken arm. A shattered leg.
I should have dragged myself back to my room and accepted death with dignity.
Instead, Dagur, Akali, and William had exchanged those smiles. The kind that told me something horrible was about to happen.
And then they handed me over to Seth.
"Relax," he had said cheerfully, snapping on gloves like a butcher preparing fresh meat. "This might hurt a bit."
'A bit.'
What followed could only be described as sanctioned torture.
