Six

VESPER GREY LYSAN POV 

The door burst open just as my hands twitched in readiness to attack.

Ilvane stepped into the room, his eyes coming to land on me, his mouth set in a thin cruel line as he saw the dagger.

My blood ran cold. Every time he'd shown up like this, it just meant he was in a bad mood, and I was about to get beaten to an inch of my life. And now, I was even holding a knife. I bet he could also see my handprint on Zevran's cheek.

His shoulders bunched, his hands clenching into fists as he stepped in my direction. I braced myself, my eyes clenching shut as I tried to prepare myself for the first hit. They always hurt worse.

Zevran suddenly stepped in front of me, his little body shielding me from the full glare of his father's dark intentions.

My eyes slowly opened, my trembling hand still clinging to the dagger as my heart hammered in my chest.

He watched us for a few seconds, a cold smirk twisting his face.

"Master—" Zevran started and gasped, his eyes almost popping out of their socket as Ilvane drove a fist into his stomach.

He crumpled to the floor, writhing for a few seconds as he struggled to catch his breath, but Ilvane didn't give him a chance to.

The first kick landed with a sickening crack and I flinched—actually flinched—as if it had struck me instead. It was a reflex reaction from being the subject of his abuse for so long. I knew exactly how much it hurt, but I was sure it hurt worse for Zevran because Ilvane was not holding back.

Ana had been right. Ilvane had really been taking it easy on me.

Watching his brutality, knowing that in the blink of an eye, I could be in Zevran's place, had cold sweat breaking out all over my body. 

"Stop" I managed, the word barely moving past my trembling lips.

But there was no response or even acknowledgment that I'd spoken.

Ilvane's nose flared, sweat trailing down the side of his face as he stared down at a writhing and groaning Zevran.

"You shouldn't have done that, you little piece of shit" he roared, then stomped on him. 

"Stop!" I yelled, my voice louder.

My words seemed to aggravate him. He met my gaze, then kicked him again–a brutal blow that sent Zevran skidding across the floor, his limbs jerking as he crashed against the wooden closet. But it didn't end, no, Ilvane walked toward him, his eyes a black void.

I watched, my heart hammering in my chest as he raised his leg while Zevran tried to lessen the impact and shield his internal organs by curling up and covering his face—almost like he was used to it.

It was devastating and for a few seconds, it felt like I wasn't even in the room at all. The sounds of boots connecting to flesh slowly faded, and my heart rate slowed.

Darkness crept up the edges of my vision, and for a second, I was sure I was going to pass out. I didn't; instead, my eyes came back into focus, my gaze fixing on those of Zevran and the relentless barrage of blows that didn't look like it was going to stop soon.

"I told you to stop!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, the sounds scraping past my throat and bouncing off the four corners of the wall. "Stop hitting him!" I yelled, stepping forward, my hands coming up with the dagger as I prepared myself to stab him if he didn't listen.

Ilvane's gaze cut to mine, his brows arching as he regarded me, his expression cynical. There was a dark glint in his eyes and for a second, I wondered if I should have interfered at all.

But it was already too late. I gripped the dagger tighter, the fear that it could slip at any minute, and I'd be left defenseless, squeezing my lungs. "If you hit him one more time, I'll really kill you. I mean it!"I choked out, my shaky voice betraying me.

He smirked, his lips curving into a wicked smile. "Is that so? Do you plan to use those puny arms of yours and that rusted blade to send me into the underworld?" He mocked, his brows arching into his headlines. 

My gaze moved involuntarily to those of Zevrans and I froze, my blood running cold at the pure evil oozing out of his eyes as they held mine captive. 

And was that a smile on his face?

My lungs stopped working, my chest constricting the longer I stared at him without breathing.

Just how crazy was he to be smiling in the face of death?

Ilvane followed my gaze, and then he leaned down, his hands grabbing hold of Zevran's shirt and dragging him up from the floor.

"Ana was off-limits. I told you not to touch her," he growled, his teeth clacking in barely suppressed rage. "And as if that wasn't enough, you let your guard down in front of someone like her. You let her hit you! You gave her your fucking dagger!" he roared, shoving him hard.

Zevran crashed against the wall, his head falling forward as he slumped to the floor.

Blood dripped to the tiles from his nose and mouth as he struggled to get air into his lungs, but I could tell from how much pain twisted his face that he'd probably broken a rib from all the stomping Ilvane did.

Letting out a rough breath of air, Ilvane dragged his hand through his hair and then turned to face me.

"What were you going to do with the dagger, huh? Did you think you could kill him? Or me?" He scoffed and, in a flash, caught hold of my arm and twisted it at an odd angle that had me screaming out and releasing my hold on the dagger. 

He took the blade from me, letting go of my arm in the same instant. Then he stared at the dagger, flicking it from side to side, before meeting my gaze. "You can't kill me, little girl, and if this one dies, I can always make more."

"Can you?" Zevran asked, but his voice sounded different. It was cold, detached, almost as if he wasn't human. "God damn it, look at all of that blood" he groaned, then started laughing hysterically, but it didn't last long as pain twisted his face.

He clutched at his chest, his lips quivering. 

"That little bitch. He always goes to hide like a coward when he can't take the pain, huh?" Zevran uttered, blood spilling out of his mouth with every word, but it was like he wasn't noticing it at all. 

Ilvane watched him for a second, then his eyes flared, the angry lines on his head slowly fading. "Zevroth?" He asked, his brows dipping, a hopeful glint in his cruel dark eyes that got brighter as Zevran grinned.

"That's right Ilvane. Your favorite son is here to play," he said, then glanced down his body. "It's too bad, huh? You did a lot of damage this time," he mused, disappointed, then his eyes slowly moved around the room until they came to land on me, the creepy smile stretching even wider.

"Now, what do we have here? You look like you'll bleed prettily..." He struggled to his feet, staggering as he managed to stand. "Did you get her as a present, Ilvane, or is she a prisoner?" He asked, his grin stretching. "It doesn't really matter though. I'm going to cut you up either way. I think I'll feel less shitty if I do" he said, coughing up more blood, but his dark gaze never once slipped from mine. It was chilling.

The pressure in my chest built, suffocatingly. 

What the hell was going on? Did Zevran have multiple personality disorder?

And was he really going to hurt me?