Page 18 of Ashes to New

“Don’t move, my sweet. I need to help Clark.”

He left her trembling against the wall, her arms stretched overhead, bound and secured. She leaned her forehead against the wall and slowed her breathing, struggling to listen.

They’d been in similar situations before. They’d get out of this one, too.

“Thanks,” Clark Preston said. “Fucker is getting bigger every year.”

“He’s skinny,” Master John said.

“Won’t be for long.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’ve seen kids like him before,” Clark Preston said with a grunt. “Give him a few years to pack on muscle, and your buddies will be making hand over fist, fighting him.”

Fighting?Her mind conjured images of illegal fighting rings. She’d read about them in books.But those men volunteered, didn’t they?

And that line of thought took her down dark and deadly paths. If she could be sold to Master John, Forest could meet with a similar fate.

But why fighting? Didn’t they know his gentle nature?

“I give him less than a year.” Master John’s offhand comment had her whipping her head around.

Forest hung limply. His arms and legs dangled. The two men carried him to the Saint Andrew’s Cross, and while Clark Preston secured the belt around Forest’s waist, Master John caught her staring. His head shook, disappointment weighing heavily in his gaze. He said nothing, shifting his hold on Forest, while Clark Preston bound Forest’s arms and legs to the cross.

“I think my little bird doesn’t understand.”

Clark Preston huffed with the effort of strapping Forest to the beams of the cross. “Huh?”

Transfixed within the intent of Master John’s soulless eyes, Elsbeth couldn’t turn away. She should. If she cared about her safety or even that of Forest’s, she would resume the position he’d put her in, but she couldn’t. She met and measured her master’s determination, and she shattered.

With Forest trussed up where he wouldn’t fall, Master John released him. He sauntered over, each step slow, measured, and ferocious. His eyes cast left, searching, and then he diverted left. From the top of a bench, he picked up a black piece of fabric. A hood.

“A lesson, little girl.” His voice dripped with danger. “Never test my resolve to do exactly as I’ve promised.”

With a gulp, Elsbeth tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat. Her eyes widened as he lifted the hood.

As she shook her head, her entire body trembled. “Please, don’t!”

His sickly sweet cologne filled her nostrils, and she gagged.

“Clark and I need a moment with your foster brother. Don’t make me come over here again.”

The hood descended over her head, shutting out light and muffling sound.

He kissed the angle of her shoulder. “You may beg for forgiveness later.”

Later came quite some time,well, later.

During the endless moments before, Forest’s shrieks had pierced the air to knife directly into her heart, twisting and shredding it to pieces. As she was shrouded within the darkness of the hood, her imagination conjured the worst images, and based upon his screams, she feared her guesses were all too accurate. Nevertheless, time marched forward. The men tired of Forest, leaving him sobbing on the basement floor.

Broken? Most definitely. Bleeding?She hoped not.

Sometime ago, the men had taken him off the Saint Andrew’s Cross. He’d been roughly used since then.

The booted tread of feet approached, and she stiffened, preparing for the promise Master John had made. It was her turn.

How to minimize the damage?Her mind churned and left her with nothing.