Page 347 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“No, the joke is you pretending we’re fucking family,” I muttered. “You don’t have a leg to stand on, you piece of shit.”

He clicked his tongue, ever the theatrical little bastard.

Every cell in my body throbbed. Except for my neck and head—those were numb. Tingling.

No sleep.

Plenty of ice baths.

A fucking dream vacation.

“I gotta hand it to you, cousin. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. I’ve had one too many nights with tequila.”

Silence.

A beat.

Then his hand cupped the back of my skull. I braced. For the plunge. For the suffocating cold.

He whispered near my ear, “Usurping the crown, huh? Maybe you really do have the balls to rule.”

I opened my mouth, but his fingers dug deep, and the basin swallowed my face. No point in thrashing. Not right away. Conserve energy. At least, I told myself that.

Told myself again when my lungs started screaming, when vision dimmed and ribs howled. When instinct took over and I thrashed anyway.

He let me up just before blackout. Threw me back into the chair. Shoulders screaming from the pull of my chained wrists, I gasped a lungful of air that burned on the way in. The cold sank into my bones and didn’t leave.

“Refreshing,” I rasped.

Didn’t need to see him to know I’d pissed him off.

Here’s the thing about Nix—he was good at getting under your skin because he was petty and insecure and thought cruelty was clever.

But I could be petty, too.

The fact that he didn’t knock me out again? I was impressed.

“How were you gonna do it?” he asked. “Kill your Ma, I assume?”

“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” I croaked.

“Always so stubborn.” He paced. “Come on, Cyrus. You know the drill. I can do this all day. You? Not so much. Easy way or hard way?”

“Oh, I always go hard. Just ask your mom—oh wait. You can’t. Tragic, really.”

Oh, fuck—did I hit a sore spot?

A slap to the face yanked me awake a few naps later.

Holy fuck. I was dying. Or close enough to prefer it.

Fear is a parasite in the soul. Poison in the well of power. Fuck the well of power.

That last bit was mine. Added it to the family motto. This shit sucked.

“I’ve always been a man of my word, Cy,” he muttered. Well, that was rich. “And I told you I’d break you, didn’t I?”