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Contains torture. Skip to ф symbol if sensitive to gore.
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Thea
Thea immediately jumped when the door craned open. The Crime Lord descended down the oakwood steps. She'd tried again and again to accept he would come back, that the group wouldn't risk the deal with Mercy to come save her. The money they were due, worth the weight of her in gold. No, they would not be coming for her.
So she had not slept, instead she had cried at the fingers he cut off and weeped for the skin shaved off her thighs. He left her naked in the chair last night again to bleed, wrist and ankled tied tight enough to cut off circulation. The first night she thought he was at his worst, but learned the longer his fiancé was away, the longer the Crime Lord raged. On the first night, he chained her neck and bound her feet and hands in a stretching position, had spit on her and locked her up in a cage for the night.
Thea had sobbed herself into exhaustion, finally sleeping until he brutally woke her—
She would not think of that, the breath it took out of her, the mark it left. Thea had not slept again after that. How long had it been since that night? How much of herself had she lost physically?
Theas head violently shook, her mouth wasn't gagged, he wanted to hear her beg, hear her scream. But it was impossible for him to be down here, hadn't it? Barely four hours had passed, was it possible the Crime Lord wasn't sleeping either? Keeping her up to make her suffer?
She would break and tell him where the girl was, but that would mean her inevitable death. Thea did not want to die.
Still, she hoped for escape, somehow.
The Crime Lord was in front of her now. He didn't say much, if anything. He knew what she wanted from her, and silence drove her mad.
"P-please. Please. Please." Her body shook violently. The Crime Lord gave her water when necessary, but had not fed her, still she felt the ache to hurl up what was left.
But there was nothing.
The Crime Lord walked behind her and without a word, carefully pulled back her hair with a lace strip. His touch was gentle, she saw how the huntress could love this side of him, a different side. Still, the caress petrified her. And if it meant he was tired, he was also impatient.
Then, he was humming. What insanity was he spiraling into? The Crime Lord didn't speak to her, she wouldn't know if the girl was found and safe and he was doing this for fun, or if his group was dead or if, if..
He pulled her chain in a circle so she was looking at his tools, then, the Crime Lord had hold of a rosewood dagger. The girls blade, the one that took the lives of all those helpless men. Thea struggled against the bindings, the chair itself seemed to jump up for a minor moment. He lit a flame, let it flicker and roar, and soon it spread across a fireplace. The rosewood daggers end was heating up in the fire while the butt rested on the bricks.
The Crime Lord had a damp handkerchief on Theas face, she pulled away with a whimper, but its touch did not sting. Water, then.
He pulled her face to look into his, and she saw in his eyes two black moons without any light. He smirked at her, as if the chaos of everything— the girl missing, her bleeding feet and hands, the roaring fire, oh gods the fire— as if all that was amiss.
She was tired, she was bleeding and waiting greedily for a rescue that would not come. No money could make up for the fingers he cut off or the lashings he'd cracked down her back or the teeth he'd pulled or skin he'd peeled off. Victoria was a fool, a vile wicked freak, and they seemed to deserve each other. But she could not take anymore, she was starving and dying and stupid, so stupid.
She could not stand being burned, but she opened her mouth and begged anyway,
"Please, let me go. I—I— I don't want to die, I'm young."
Thea was petrified again, not at the fire or her own blood running into the wood of the chair. The Crime Lord went eerily still, silent again, eyes ogle and black. He looked at her just like that, crouching in front of the chair, a spider watching it's prey. But there was nothing amused or delighted in his face, something she understood as pure hatred. Even without any expression for anyone on the continent to begin to comprehend, she knew. Thea immediately apologized for whatever she said that set him to look at her like a broken clock, but with her open pleads he violently shoved the handkerchief down her throat. She tasted the salt and sweat on his hand, felt the thrust of his skin down her throat. His hand aggressively pulling back out, but the handkerchief stayed.
So she chocked, trying to suck in hair but pulling the handkerchief further down. She tried coughing, which accomplished little. Then, the Crime Lord had that beautiful rosewood dagger in his hand, the blade shining from a blaze stolen from the sun. He pulled her ear as if trying to rip it off, then with the searing blade, cut into the skin, the cartilage impossibly melting away.
Thea screamed when she thought she could not, not with the damn cloth down her throat. Whatever sound she had popped out the Crime Lord chose not to hear, halfway through her ear she felt blood flow down her neck, but it couldn't compare to the insufferable pain of the hot knife gliding through her ear like wax. The sound, Gods, it sounded like boiling water poured down a sink. Something warm pooled between her legs, she knew it wasn't the blood.
The damn knife at the end of the ear melted straight through her earring, a cheap thing. It would of hurt less if he shoved it down her throat, now it was another piece of her lost.
Still choking, she finally spit out the rag, but the Crime Lord was at the other end of her head. The knife cooling slightly now, this cut would not be as quick. Thea tried to confess the girls location but couldn't get the words out.
But it was too late as the Crime Lord sliced into the other ear. This time, her screams were unending. She was right, this cut was longer, more painful and thick. Both ears fell to the floor, she sobbed uncontrollably, but her voice broke into wail. Sayter was in front of her now, pinching her nostrils and raising the knife.
Her nose, her face. Oh Gods. He was going to cut her into pieces.
In a funny little voice, she got out,
"Westa va Bistatiwa."
The Crime Lord hesitated, it was all she needed to calm down. He released her nose, Thea sobbed and whispered, "West. She's West of Blaylock."
And with it out the Crime Lord got up to wash off the knife and tucked it away. He looked at her for a moment, there was no pity or amusement or empathy in his eyes. Was there any emotion for anyone other than Victoria in this sick man?
He headed up the oakwood stairs, leaving her to sob and bleed. A few minutes later, a feminine touch was on the sides of her head, another untying the ropes to the chair.
Thea didn't realize how long she'd been muttering to herself in the dark, but she continued, "Alright. It will be alright. Alright. It will be.. it will.. be,"
A gentle touch stroked her hair, away from the blood, "Yes, it will sweetie."
She heard it, and finally, Thea got to rest.
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Thea woke up and wanted tea. She then remembered her ears were amputated, six fingers were sliced off, and went through absolute hell and wasn't dead. In shock and with nothing to make of it, she stretched. Then realized it was a very bad move after receiving seventy-three lashes. A healer in the room stopped in her tracks when she saw her, and hurried to the door, "Wait, wait,"
But she was gone.
Oh, saints.
She did not want him to go get the Crime Lord. But she could escape now, couldn't she? They had not tied down her arms or legs. Perhaps he knew she wouldn't be stupid enough to. She decided no, she wouldn't let the bastard get close to her nose with a searing knife again because she couldn't make it as far as the kitchen to escape the house, and curled up on her side on the bed.
Her ears were severed, what went through this sick bastards mind? He took bits and pieces of her body. Teeth, skin, hair, she wondered if she would find out later if an organ was missing.
The door opened, and the Crime Lord walked in. Thea jumped up and quivered into the corner of the bed frame, "p-please, I- I gave you everything you asked, I, I tried to give you everything,"
He was up close to her now, taking something from his pocket. Thea covered her eyes with the four fingers she had about left. With a careful hand, he pried them back and stuck a rollup in her mouth. Tobacco? Now? With a lighter, he lit the end. She had it between two fingers, each on a different hand. Taking it in and puffing out a white breath, she eased just a bit.
He sat back in the leather chair and lit a rollup for himself. She fingered maybe now that she gave him what she wanted, he would talk with her. "How long?"
How long have I been here? How long did it take me to break? How long have my friends been away?
He seemed to hear them all out.
"Four days." His voice was dense. Tired, irritated.
"How did you know it was us?"
"That imbecile Angmar left a note. In my room."
With the rollup in-between his fingers, he used his thumb to scratch at his head. He seemed calmer, more respectful or careful around her.
She would not make the mistake of trusting it.
"Are you going to hurt me again?"
"I think you'll find I'm going to 'hurt' all of you over the course of a very long time. If Victoria isn't cooking them all by now."
Thea shrank away, "N-No please, I'll do whatever you want just please, I can't,"
She put her head in the pillow and sobbed, the rollup pinched out. "Please, please sir. Please, I can't."
"I don't care." Taking another hit of the rollup, the Crime Lord looked off into the room.
Thea sobbed harder, but she said, "I can tell you who sent us, if you let us go."
"I don't particularly care who wants me dead, Thea. I'm convinced whoever doesn't want me dead is a shorter list." Another puff, then,
"I really never particularly liked any of you.
You all bitched like spoiled children— I don't particularly enjoy being around people, it's why I indulge in causing pain, in a way."
"You liked Victoria. Victoria made you her slave, you let her live. Why me? Why do I have to die?"
He gave her that look again, that stare. Last time she saw it, he sent a rag down her throat and took her ears off. She bursted, "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I'm—"
"Shut up. Gods, just shut up. I wont.. inflict anything on you. Not for now, at least." His voice was a rasp. He hadn't been sleeping, she realized.
She shook her head. He only went on,
"Or, we can make a deal. I'll let my submissive decide your punishments, when I find her. Perhaps if I tell her you've been a good girl and helped find her— you will help me, wont you?" He asked in a mocking innocent tone, and went on,
"She wont want to punish you too harshly. Perhaps just keep you as a personal pet. A play thing, is all."
Thea thought about it. Pet was the term Merek threw around on how Sayter treated them all. Now she was damned to be one?
Still, better the huntresses pet than dying at the hands of Sayter Hamel.
Thea raised her head, "Yes, sir. I'll help you in anyway I can."
The Crime lord smirked wickedly, and something stung in her chest. There was black blood running through this man, she was sure.
A/N
February 15th
Lmao this bitch was long.
I was supposed to be finishing the bioshock book (really weird book btw) but I got in the mood to write i guess.
I decided I'm not gonna tell yall when the ending is, it's just gonna be a regular chapter and the quote next to it as usual. For surprise.
Also.
Sorry if this was too brutal please dont report me lol ik some of y'all are like 14..
Anyway, Happy Valentines Day from Sayter and Victoria. They didn't get to celebrate because Victoria got her stupid ass kidnapped.
Anyway, love yall, gn.