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I hear the telltale sound of someone flicking a knife open and I freeze.

“Now the demon comes out.” Mother crouches in front of me. “What happened to my obedient little daughter?”

“She rotted in hell,” I spit through gritted teeth, “the minute you sent me to that fucking church-prison.”

Her palm connects with my face, causing a sharp sting to radiate across my entire head. “You couldn’t just do as you were told, could you? Twenty-three fucking years I’ve waited for this moment. And you ruined it.”

I’m trapped. Kain’s all I want right now. I can feel my flame flickering, dying. If I could just see him…

Samuel joins my mother, and I don’t move. I can’t. I can’t physically feel anything but the pain inside my hips from how cold my body is.

“My beautiful, rotten bride.” Samuel’s knuckles smooth down my cheek.

“She’s almost ready for the ritual, there’s only one more thing to do.” Heath leans against the wall as Father Michaels pulls out a bible and a rosary from his habit.

Lights illuminate the entire dungeon. My eyes burn when I squeeze them shut, tears spilling out of the sides. When I try to open them, I see the blurry faces of everyone staring at me. They’ve taken on a sort of deformed look, but they still look like themselves. Father Michaels begins speaking a language I don’t understand while Samuel pulls out a knife. My wrists flinch in the cuffs at the sight of it.

“What are you doing?”

He flips it open and presses the blunt end to the middle of my chest. I suck in a sharp breath at the icy feeling that spreads over my torso as he slowly drags the blade down. “My bride’s skin is marked—poisoned by ink that was never made for the human body.” I hold his stare while my teeth gnaw at the sensitive skin inside my mouth. “We can’t sacrifice a tainted soul to our Lord and Saviour. We must cleanse you.” Grins stretch wide over their faces, everyone but Dorrian. He watches quietly, eyebrows scrunched, throat bobbing as he swallows. When his eyes meet mine, the guilt that is quite clearly eating him alive shines through.

I can’t help but feel sympathy towards him.

He might have been the devil in disguise for a while, but I believe him. I want his help, Kain wants his help, but he also needs to keep Cassie safe. I lock my eyes on him, silently communicating that it’s okay.

Father Michaels’ voice crescendos. Mother slaps her hands to my legs, gripping at the numb flesh, and in a blink, Samuel stabs his knife into the middle of my thigh.

Red, hot pain explodes through me and I scream.

Cell doors rattle. “JORDIE!” Kain yells.

No.

Heath tuts as they all turn towards Kain. The knife remains lodged in my leg as tears run down my cheeks and my body shakes vehemently.

“How did you manage to get out, sinner?” Heath’s voice is pure mockery, hands in his pockets as he strolls over to Kain’s cell before clicking the key into the lock.

“Stay the fuck away from her! I will pluck out your teeth one by one if anything happens to her, you cunt!”

Heath laughs coldly, voice distorted as Michaels continues chanting. “Both of you will shed blood for our Lord. And with your blood, we will be eternal.”

Iron groans as Kain’s gate is opened.

“Samuel.” Heath snaps his fingers.

“No,” I whisper, throat raw from my scream. Blood trickles down my legs.

Samuel stands and stalks to Kain’s cell, throwing his fist into Kain’s jaw. A crack sounds then Kain smirks as he spits blood out. Samuel doesn’t stop, though, he lurches his knee into his stomach, and Kain grunts while hunched over.

“No!” I shout, salty tears filling my mouth.

“Shut up, girl,” Mother snaps, twisting the knife in my leg. Searing pain bursts through me, making me squeeze my eyes shut while the sounds flesh meeting flesh bounces off the walls in the room.

I hyperventilate as I open my eyes again, seeing Kain’s raw, trembling arms attempt to swing at Samuel, but failing. Samuel throws another punch at Kain’s face, knocking him down to the ground.

I wail, my head rolling against the damp concrete wall. “No! Please! Stop!”

I look at Dorrian then, pleading with him to do something, but I know he won’t, and he’s not looking at me. He’s watching the scene.