Scream of agony echoed through the hall as the first crack landed across Scarlett’s back, white-hot pain tearing through her. Skin split; she tasted iron on her tongue.
Rowena’s voice chimed coldly, delighted. “This is for your delusions.”
The next strike landed. “This one’s for your betrayal!”
Third, fourth—the whip kept coming, a black blur biting into flesh again and again.
Rowena’s breathing grew quick, but her words were full of cruel satisfaction. “He’s busy right now with the wedding schedule. He hasn’t a second to spare for you. Even if I beat you to death, he won’t care.”
“He doesn’t care about you.”
Scarlett curled into herself on the floor. Pain roared through her body; Rowena’s words gnawed at her more than the whip. Each welt burned brighter than the last until her back was a bloody mess—no inch of unbroken skin left.
Rowena finally stopped, casting the whip aside with a satisfied toss and turned away with practiced elegance.
Scarlett lay face-down on the cold stone, drifting between searing pain and the suffocating numbness of hopelessness. Her vision blurred; all she heard was the faint thud of her own heart.
Darkness took her.
***
When something small and insistent nudged her back, Scarlett came up gasping, agony returning like a wave. She couldn’t help the sound that ripped out of her.
“Why are you here?” she croaked.
Tristan sat at her side, expression unreadable but steady. “I came to get you.”
Her confusion was immediate. Hadn’t he always hated her?
He didn’t answer with words. He wrapped a dark coat around her shredded back and tried to lift her. “I couldn’t stand to watch them ruin you with their scheming. I value talent, I suppose.”
“Run,” he told her.
Scarlett could hardly stand; her weight sagged against him.
“What about you?” she whispered.
He didn’t hesitate. He hoisted her into his arms and, knowing the base like the back of his hand, darted between cameras and patrols with practiced ease.
“You don’t have to worry about me. Look after yourself,” he muttered as he pulled open the iron-gate and shoved her into the cold night.
“Go!” he barked.
“Hope I see you alive next time,” he added, before slamming the gate shut.
Scarlett didn’t hesitate. She slid into the driver’s seat, her hands steady enough as she slammed the door and floored the accelerator into the dark.
She didn’t know where to go. If she didn’t find Victor, she would be dead in seven days.