Wicked Chase

♛ Chapter Twenty-Nine

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

When I slipped into consciousness I heard screams. They were piercing screams that startled me awake and when my eyes shot open it was darkness that greeted me first before the dim light.

I blinked a couple of times to adjust my eyes to the dim lighting and while I did so, a voice emerged from behind me. "Those screams - beautiful sounds, aren't they?" The voice sent a chill down my spine and I shut my eyes instantly not wanting to acknowledge the voice.

I knew that voice. I knew that thick, deep, accented and malicious voice all too well from the darkness that invaded my nightmares. He was the man with the evil, livid green eyes in nightmares. He was my uncle. He was Thorin.

I was momentarily confused. How did I get here? What happened? Then the memory hit me - the memory of me walking down to the prison wanting to speak to Josiah because I so desperately needed answers about my mother. Josiah knocked me out and then the ten of them kidnapped me.

Ten. That number rang in my head but I couldn't quite place a finger on why I found it so important. Ten, what did that number mean?

"I know you're awake, Genevieve," my uncle crooned, his voice making the rapid beat of my heart to build up. "There's no need to pretend."

And before I knew it, there was a hand pulling at my hair and lifting me up off the ground, a rough hand enclosing over my throat and a gasp escaping my lips as my eyes shot open with shock. My eyes met a pair of green ones, a pair of green eyes that were so damn strikingly similar to mine. Seeing Thorin for the first time didn't only make me uneasy but made me lose my ability to speak.

He looked older than Ronan, his brown hair was replaced by white so that his flop of hair was a mixture of white strands as well as brown strands. His face was grim and defined, and by how close he had me to his face I could tell that Ronan and Thorin looked alike except for one thing - one thing the completely differentiated them.

Thorin had a long scar covering the side of his eye, traveling downwards to the edge of his lips. I stared and I tried to stop but I couldn't help but stare. The scar was so prominent, so clear and deep that it made a shiver run down my spine. It looked so new, so recent.

A sinister laughter that made me shiver with fright pulled me out of my reverie and I looked back into Thorin's eyes, trying as best as I could to not break down in front of him. "Do you know who gave me that scar?" he asked, his voice making the blood that flowed through my veins to grow hotter. "Your dear mother," he answered for himself and twirled me around in one swift motion so that he had a dagger placed across my throat and my back was pressed to his chest.

But in that moment I was scared to breathe and it wasn't because the slightest movement would cause the dagger that Thorin held to cut slightly but painfully into my neck, but what made my breath get caught in my throat was what met my eyes - or rather, whom.

"Mum!" I shouted, choking on a sob that raced through my chest.

My mother was on her knees, chains clamped to her wrists and to her legs, a cloth between her mouth that was tied around her head to stop her from speaking. But I could see that the cloth in her mouth wasn't only to prevent her from speaking. From how tightly it was pressed between her lips and from the red stains by the corners I could see that the cloth was tied to bring her pain.

My heart raced and I felt my eyes prick and burn and I tried not to cry, I tried to stay strong for my mother but mostly I tried to show Thorin that I was not affected by this, that I wasn't surprised and I had the upper hand but my eyes betrayed me and when I blinked, a single tear made its way slowly down my cheek.