Heartless Villains (Ruthless Villains Book 3)

Panic pulsed through my body as someone slammed a hand over my mouth. I tried to slap my palms together but boots were planted on my wrists, keeping them trapped against the ground. Blinking against the gloomy light inside my tent, I tried to kick at my unknown attackers. But before I could, cold steel was pushed against my throat. I stilled.

“Make one sound, and I’ll slit your throat,” a man hissed down at me from only a breath away.

It was his hand that covered my mouth, and his blade against my skin. I flicked my gaze between him and the two other men who were crouching on either side of me, pressing their boots down on my wrists.

My heart thumped against my ribs.

The guy on my left dropped down lower before moving his boot and taking my hand in a firm grip. While the other one did the same, he locked my wrist into one side of a pair of stiff handcuffs.

Cold dread exploded in my chest. Yanking against his grip, I tried to free my hand before he could snap the other manacle shut too. The man above me pressed his knife harder against my throat. My head was pounding and terror sluiced through me as I was forced to stop resisting and instead let them lock my wrists in the metal handcuffs.

Once they had gotten them on, the two people on my sides started dragging me out of the tent while the third one kept his hand over my mouth and his blade at my neck.

I was met by a still mostly dark sky when I cleared the tent flap and slid out on the stones outside. Flicking my gaze around the area, I searched desperately for someone who could help me. But the rest of our tents were silent and still.

Terrible fear washed over me. What if they had already killed the others?

My eyes darted frantically back and forth, but there was no sign of blood or a struggle. They were alive. They had to be.

As soon as we were fully out of the tent, I was hauled to my feet. The man with the knife had moved behind me, and he kept both his weapon and his hand in place while the other two grabbed my arms and began leading me away from our camp.

Another bout of panic shot through me. How could they have gotten into my tent without me waking up? Ever since we set out on this mission, I had slept incredibly lightly just so that I wouldn’t be ambushed like this. And they had still somehow managed it. One of them had to have some kind of rare magic.

The buildings around us were quiet and dark as I was marched through the terrace. I walked as slowly as I could get away with. Dawn would soon be here. If only Callan or Paige or even Henry could wake up and find me missing, I would have a chance of getting out of this. But as things stood now, I could barely even twitch my muscles without the guy behind me pushing his knife harder against my throat.

Breathing through my nose, I tried to force my heart to stop slamming in my chest. Who the hell were these people? And where were they taking me?

I stared in confusion as the three men dragged me towards the steps that would take me towards the top level.

A small patch of pale light crept over the horizon, but the torches along the steps were still burning so the way upwards was covered in dancing orange light. Flicking my gaze between my shackled hands, our camp somewhere below, and the quickly approaching terrace above, I tried to figure out some kind of plan for how I was supposed to escape. But since I had no idea what was waiting for me up there, it was impossible to make any sort of scheme.

About halfway up the steps, the man behind me finally took his hand off my mouth.

I didn’t waste a second.

Sucking in a breath, I screamed at the top of my lungs, “CALLAN!”

“Fuck,” the guy swore.

Pain pulsed through my body as he drove his fist into the side of my ribs. I jerked forward, almost slitting my own throat on his knife, before he snatched it aside.

“Ca—” I began yelling again.

Another fist to my stomach cut me off.

I crumpled down on the ground as my limbs spasmed and all the air was knocked out of my lungs. Rough hands hauled me up until I was lying over someone’s shoulder. Pain continued rolling through my stomach and I was having trouble keeping my wits about me after the blow to my solar plexus. My body bounced up and down as the man carrying me sprinted up the steps.

Massive houses surrounded us as we reached the terrace above. I was vaguely aware of some doors being thrown open. And then the faint light of dawn was replaced by flickering firelight. Blinking, I tried to get my eyes back into focus.

Before I could, the guy who had been carrying me unceremoniously dumped me on what felt like a stone floor. Dull pain spread through my body once more, but I still hadn’t recovered from the previous strikes so I just lay there on the ground, staring up at a ceiling filled with dark wooden beams.

“You are…” a man’s voice began. I couldn’t see anything other than the swimming ceiling above me, but his voice sounded like he was used to people obeying his every whim. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She, uhm… She tried to call for help, sir.” This voice belonged to the man with the knife. “So we hit her to stop her.”

“How hard did you hit her?”

“I, uhm… I didn’t think it was that hard.”

“Clearly it was.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

My attacker’s face came into view above me. His brown hair curled a bit at the ends and his blue eyes were sharp but a bit worried, as he stared down at me. Grabbing my collar with one hand, he used the other to slap my cheek.

“Hey,” he snapped. “Get it together.”

I let my head loll to the side.

He slapped my cheek again. Harder this time. “Hey!”

“Yes, I’m sure hitting her more will make her recover faster,” the authoritative voice said.

“Ah, yes. Sorry, sir.”

Releasing my collar, he let my head fall back and rest on the floor again. I kept staring up at the ceiling while making sure my eyes were slightly unfocused. My body was already starting to recover, but the longer I could drag this out, the better my chances would be.

Minutes ticked by while I lay there on the cold stone floor. Torches burned along the wooden walls, casting the whole room in warm light. There were a few long tables on my right and a pair of double doors in the direction we had come from, but from my position, that was about all I could see of the room.

After another few minutes, those sharp blue eyes appeared above me again. They scrutinized every inch of my face. Then my attacker pulled up his knife and plunged it straight towards my throat.

Panic flashed through me and I yanked my head sideways.

He let out a smug laugh as he grabbed my collar once more. “So, you were faking it.”

Since it was too late to pretend otherwise at that point, I just shot him a sharp smile back.

Hauling me up from the floor, he dragged me a bit farther into the room before shoving me down on my knees in front of something that looked an awful lot like a throne.

The high-backed wooden chair was located at the back wall of the room, and there was nothing in front of it that would suggest that it was used as anything other than a throne from which a ruler dispensed justice. I studied the man sitting on it.

He was tall and muscular, with steel gray hair and brown eyes, and a posture that exuded power. When he looked down at me, I could almost feel the anger that simmered inside him.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

I just stared back at him in silence.

A fist gripped my hair hard, yanking my head back before a knife was once more pressed against my throat. “Answer.”

With my head tilted back like that, it took some effort to keep my eyes locked on the man sitting on the wooden throne. “Given that we just walked up here without challenge, my guess is that you’re the guy who runs the show.”

“Correct,” he said. “I am Viktor Benson, and I rule this mountain. And yesterday, you made a grave mistake.”

“Oh?”

His brown eyes shifted towards the side of the room. “Is this the woman who did it?”

“Yes,” came a familiar voice.

I didn’t even have to look over there to know that the two brown-haired sisters from yesterday were standing there in the shadows.

“You poisoned my daughters,” Viktor said.

Of course they were his fucking daughters. It took great effort not to roll my eyes at the annoying whims of fate. Instead, I kept my eyes on Viktor Benson. The vicious part of me wanted to spit something snarky back in his face and mock him for having such weak children. But the intelligent part of me knew just how bad of a situation I was really in. This guy was the top dark mage on this entire mountain, which meant that he was ridiculously powerful. And I was in handcuffs.

So instead of saying what I really wanted him to hear, I blew out a soft breath and said, “I didn’t know that they were your daughters.”

“I assumed as much. However, your crime still stands.”

The way he said crime sent a spike of alarm up my spine. I swallowed it and carefully said, “I understand. And I apologize for the offense.”

“Good.”

Silence fell over the room. The man behind me still hadn’t released my hair, and his knife was still positioned across my throat. Something moved at the corner of my eye. A moment later, the two sisters walked forward to stand next to the grand chair.

Smug mockery danced in their eyes as they looked at me. It made me want to poison the whole room, but since I couldn’t do that, I just kept watching Viktor.

“But I’m afraid an apology will not be sufficient,” he said at last.

I licked my lips. “What do you want?”

“Your hand.”

Cold dread surged up inside my chest. It washed through my whole body until my limbs felt completely numb. My mind refused to process what he had said, so I pressed out, “What?”

“Raising a hand against me or my family is a crime. And the punishment for such a crime is losing the offending hand.”

My heart started up a furious assault on my ribs. “No. You can’t.”

“Of course I can.”

Pushing up from his seat, he touched his palms together while his guard hauled me to my feet. A grinding sound filled the room as a slab of stone rose from the floor. But the shock of realizing that Viktor was a stone mage was drowned out by the rushing of blood in my ears. Digging my heels into the floor, I tried to stop the guard from dragging me towards the block of stone.

It was useless.

My feet skidded across the stones as he hauled me the final bit and then slammed a hard kick into the back of my knees. I hit the floor hard enough to jar my bones, but I could barely even feel it.

Fighting with everything I had, I tried to get away from the block of stone. But the two people who had helped take me from the tent appeared on either side of me as well. With a firm grip on my arms, they stretched them out so that my shackled hands rested on top of the stone slab. I thrashed against their grip, trying to stand up again, but the guard behind me planted his hands on my shoulders and kept me kneeling on the floor.

The ringing of steel filled the air as Viktor Benson drew his sword.

At that sound, my brain started malfunctioning.

Searing terror flashed through my whole body, and my heart pounded so hard in my chest that my ribs almost cracked.

He was going to cut my hand off.

He couldn’t… I couldn’t let him.

“Please,” I blurted out. “Please. Please. Don’t.”

Fear the likes of which I had never felt before surged up inside me as Viktor moved to stand next to the block of stone. I desperately tried to yank my hands off it, but the men holding me were too strong.

“Please,” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “Please, I’m begging you. Don’t do this. I’ll do anything. Anything you want. Please, just tell me what you want and I will do it.”

I was vaguely aware of the fact that Viktor’s two daughters were smirking at my pathetic pleas. I couldn’t even remember the last time that I had begged like this. Truly begged for my life with everything I had. But I didn’t care. I would lick the boots of every single person on this entire terrace if it kept him from cutting my hand off.

Viktor raised his sword.

Tears welled up in my eyes. Everything inside me was screaming, and I could barely hear my own voice as I begged again, “No, please. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please, don’t do this. I’ll do whatever you want. Please, please, I’m begging you.”

Flames glinted against the blade as he held it aloft.

Then he began drawing it downwards.

A scream tore from my throat.

The doors banged open.

Viktor threw the sword aside before it could sever my hand, and instead slammed his palms together. Stunned disbelief pulsed through me as I snapped my gaze towards the doors.

Callan Blackwell was standing there covered in blood.

His chest heaved and his eyes flashed with rage as he flicked his gaze around the room. When it landed on me, and he realized what had been about to happen, fury fierce enough to burn the world down rose from the depths of his eyes.

“One wrong move and she dies,” the guard behind me called as he placed his knife against my throat yet again.

Callan glanced between me, the three guards around me, and Viktor. His face was splattered with blood, going all the way up into his hair, and his hands looked like they had been dipped in red. But there was no force blade in his grip. Only a real sword.

The terror from earlier, and the shock of seeing Callan bursting through the door, made my brain slow and unresponsive, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what Callan was doing with a real sword.

“Okay,” Callan said carefully. “Don’t hurt her.”

Raising his sword, he shifted it in his grip so that the blade rested across his palms instead. While holding it up like an offering, he took a few steps closer to Viktor. A stone wall rose in front of Callan.

“That’s far enough,” Viktor said.

Callan stopped. For a few seconds, nothing else happened. Then Viktor lowered the stone wall. Callan shot a brief glance at me, and rage roared to life in his eyes again.

My brain tried to make sense of it. Why was he coming to help me if he hated me that much? Before I could figure out an answer to it, he did something that stunned me even more.

After dipping his chin, Callan lowered himself to one knee on the floor while holding up the sword to Viktor in surrender.

“No.” The word slipped out of me before I could stop it. “Don’t. Don’t surrender to him. He’s going to cut your hand off!”

“Silence,” Viktor snapped without even looking at me.

Callan remained on one knee with his chin lowered as the stone mage prowled up to him. Terror washed over me again. What the hell was he doing? Callan didn’t surrender. Not to anyone. Or for anyone. And most certainly not to save me. I couldn’t let him do this.

Reaching out, Viktor took the offered sword from Callan’s hands.

The second that the blade left his palms, Callan slammed them together.

I jerked back in shock as a force blade shot up.

With Viktor’s hands temporarily occupied by the real sword, he didn’t have time to bring them together to call up his own magic.

Disbelief echoed through me as Callan rammed his force blade straight up through Viktor Benson’s chest.