Page 31 of Bound By Blood and Lies

“Give me the knife,” I whisper firmly.

She doesn’t move.

“Robyn,” I repeat louder.

Her eyes stay fixed on Fisher like she hasn’t even heard me. Something in her expression twists my stomach because I recognise that look. It’s the same one she used to get in first year when someone said something cruel about her upbringing andshe pretended it didn’t matter. This time though, it looks like it does.

“We have to go,” I say with a louder voice, trying to keep the urgency from spilling into panic. “We’ve done it. He’s down. We have the keys. We just need to leave.”

“Wait,” she finally whispers and steps towards Fisher.

My mouth drops open as heat floods my veins. I can’t even process what she’s said as the reality of it lags behind the panic clawing up my spine. I stare at her for a beat too long before shaking my head.

“What?” I demand, stepping closer to her to try and pull her away.

“Just wait a damn minute,” she snaps, stepping out of my hold.

Before I can stop her, she steps forward and drops into a crouch in front of Fisher. The movement is slow but every inch of her body tightens with violence. Her shoulders are rigid and her hands curl into fists at her sides before she forces them open again. I can see the tremor running through her arms, not from fear but from the sheer effort of holding herself together. When she lifts her chin to look at him, there is nothing soft left in her face. The pain is there, but it has hardened into something vicious as anger bleeds through every line of her posture. For the first time since we were dragged into this place, Robyn doesn’t look like someone trying to survive him. She looks like someone ready to make him survive her.

“Robyn—”

She slaps him, cutting off the question that was halfway out of my mouth, and a sick, involuntary smile pulls at my lips. The sound cracks through the room, echoing off the concrete like a gunshot. Fisher’s head snaps sideways under the force of it. His eyelids flutter open slowly like his mind is still scrambling to catch up with his body. I watch the moment awareness beginsto settle in. His gaze drifts before it finally lands on Robyn crouched in front of him. Recognition spreads across his face in slow, creeping stages. The corner of his mouth lifts as something ugly and knowing curls there whilst the situation he’s in clicks into place.

“Well,” he rasps thickly, licking his dry lips.

Robyn lunges forward and grabs the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric tight in her fist as she yanks his head upright. Up close I can see the tears already spilling down her cheeks and tracking through the grime on her skin as her chest rises and falls. Fear claws up my spine as I watch her. Not fear of Fisher, but fear for Robyn herself. She looks like someone standing on the edge of a cliff without realising how far the fall is beneath her.

“Who is my mother?” she rasps.

Of course.

Robyn has always carried that question like a shadow she could never quite outrun. I’ve heard the stories, the half-truths she grew up with, the whispered insults thrown at her when people thought she couldn’t hear them. She never knew where she came from, never knew who her mother was or why she had been left behind. It was just a blank space in her history; a wound she pretended didn’t bother her even when I knew it did. And standing here now, watching the way her entire body is braced around that single question, I realise just how deeply it’s been sitting inside her.

Guilt twists sharply through me.

All this time, during everything we’ve been through together, I never even tried to help her find that answer. I was so focused on my own battles, my own mess of loyalties and enemies and survival, that I presumed she didn’t care anymore. But it never faded… It’s here now, burning in her voice as she tries to drag the truth out of the man who built our nightmare.

Fisher blinks at her. Then he starts laughing. It’s not a normal laugh. It’s sharp and broken by the blood in his mouth.

“That’s what you want to know?” he croaks. “You have me tied up here and your only answer is to chase a ghost who doesn’t give a fuck about you? You are pathetic, Robyn.”

“Who. Is. My. Mother?” she demands louder this time, shaking him slightly so the chain rattles.

Fisher’s eyes slide toward me and even chained to the wall, bleeding and barely upright, he looks at me like he’s winning. His gaze drags slowly over my body, lingering on the thin white dress that has never hidden my body from him. The fabric is partly sheer where it clings to my skin, and the way his eyes travel over it makes my stomach turn. I feel the familiar crawl of disgust threaten to ripple through me but I force it down.

“You can’t kill me, little girl. I have owned you for years,” Fisher sneers.

“Answer her,” I say, ignoring his statement.

“Answer me!” Robyn screams as he sits in silence.

Fisher’s grin spreads slowly. He studies Robyn, dragging the moment out the way he always does.

“Your mother is a whore.” His words are delivered with the same casual tone someone might use to comment on the weather before his gaze flicks sideways to me. “Just like Fae. A good for nothing fucking hole to stick my dick into.”

I feel the rage surge through my chest at the image he paints but I barely have time to notice my own reaction because Robyn’s grip loosens in his shirt before her fist connects to his nose and the crack is immediate. His head snaps back against the wall as fresh blood spills from the impact and the chain jerks violently with the force of it.

“You shut the fuck up!” she screams in his face.