iron burns. He teetered on the edge of consciousness, aware that slipping over the side into the nothing would probably buy him a reprieve. Perhaps it was for the best. The abyss looked so comfortable…
Sutter waved an ammonia tab under Augustine’s nose, pulling him off the ledge of darkness and bringing him back into the cold light of day. Augustine muttered a curse.
Sutter hoisted the iron bar again.
Pellimento hadn’t moved an inch the whole time he was being beaten, but at last, she lifted her hand. “That’s enough, Sutter. Let me speak to him again.” She twisted to look over her shoulder. “Nguyen, get that set up back there.”
“Yes, Senator,” the thug answered, and busied himself with something Augustine didn’t have the energy to care about.
He exhaled slowly, trying to control his movement to lessen the pain.
Sutter leaned down. “Still think I hit like a girl?”
Augustine hung his head, relief flooding him at the chance to rest. “No. At least not a fae girl. They hit way harder.”
Sutter dropped the bar, grabbed Augustine’s chin and jerked his head up. His other hand was pulled back, fingers curled into a fist.
“Sutter.” Pellimento’s voice cut through the air like a steel blade. “I said not the face. I also said that was enough. Leave us for now.” She pointed at the two men holding Augustine upright. “And you two, put him back in the chair.”
With a wet snarl that would have put a rabid dog to shame, Sutter released Augustine and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The two holding Augustine dropped him into the banquet hall chair. Blood rushed back into his shoulders, causing the pins and needles from lack of circulation to sting deeper, the pain a reminder of just how long he’d been unable to move.
She tipped her head at the two thugs and raised her brows. “Go.”
They left, closing the door much more quietly. Only the senator and the lower-level merc remained in the room, but he stood behind her, near the camera on its tripod.
She stared at Augustine for a moment without speaking, then shifted to cross her opposite leg over the other and spoke. “Why do you antagonize Sutter? You know it’s only going to make him hit you harder.”
He lifted his head to make eye contact. He thought about telling her the truth, that being fae meant he could take a beating no human could ever endure, and that Sutter’s temper meant goading him could cause the man to make a mistake, but Augustine knew neither of those things would win him any points with her. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and dropped his head again, just to see how she dealt with being ignored.
He felt her gaze on him awhile longer as the silence stretched between them. When he finally lifted his head again, she looked back at Nguyen, gave him a subtle nod, then returned her attention to Augustine. “Did you kill my son simply to strike at me or did you have a greater plan? Were you going to hold him hostage until I met some sort of demands? Was the death accidental? I’m curious, as the autopsy has turned up no clues about how you murdered him.”
“I did not kill your son.” He exhaled slowly, but nothing lessened the constant knife-sharp ache of his numerous broken ribs. They wouldn’t begin to heal in a meaningful way until the iron was no longer in contact with his skin, something he had begun to realize might not ever happen.
It was very possible he could die in this room. The finality of that filled him with a recklessness that was both calming and freeing.
Pellimento sighed like she was bored. Or perhaps just tired of his refusal to capitulate to her request for a confession. “Then why was your address in his pocket?”
“Because someone put it there, most likely to make it seem that I was involved.” The realization of what he’d just said came to him as he spoke the words. “Someone.” Of course. Giselle.
“Is that also why I got an anonymous tip telling me you were responsible for his disappearance?”
“Yes.” Augustine narrowed his gaze on her. “No one reaches a position of power without accumulating some enemies. At the very least, those who are jealous of your power. In my case, it’s a woman by the name of Giselle Vincent, the witch who killed your son. You of all people must understand what it’s like to have enemies.”
She