Chapter 107

Scott

The cellar smelled of damp stone and old iron. I moved through it the way I moved through everything I wanted to break: deliberate, patient, certain.

Kane was already there, shackled to the post, silver chains biting into his wrists and ankles. He looked smaller like that, deflated where he’d once been roaring and dangerous. The blood on his lip had dried into a dark smile that still tried to curl at the edges.

“You were my friend, I trusted you.” I said, standing close enough to feel the heat of his ragged breath.

He spat at my boots. “And you were a fool to trust me,” he rasped.

Something inside me snapped, and I gave the guards a single, slow look. They understood it without being told. The whip came down in a smooth half-circle and the leather cracked through the air. Kane’s head jerked. He groaned, muscles trembling as the rope-burn traced along his back.

“Again,” I said. My voice was quiet, controlled, but the edges were keen. “Make it count.”

They obliged. The whip san