You make me weak and weak men die. Killian’s final words to her echoed between her ears. They rebounded off every bone until it was ringing throughout her entire body in ripples of truth and guilt.
“Thanks to you, he will now know what it feels like to lose something so incredibly precious that the very thought of living another day without it is unbearable. He will know genuine pain as his entire world is ripped apart. I have dreamt of this moment for ten years and you helped make it happen.”
He was practically panting, practically glowing. Happiness radiated soft pink blossoms in his cheeks and danced behind the enormous smile stretching his face. His delight in Killian’s misery made her stomach hurt. It made her anger prickle and she had to resist the urge to punch her weapon straight into those wide eyes.
“You’re crazy if you think I’ll ever help you hurt Killian,” she whispered instead.
Straight, white teeth flashed in an almost Cheshire cat smile. “Oh, but you already have. Those videos you’ve been kind enough to help us make, what did you think they were for? My personal amusement? I’m fairly certain he’s beside himself watching that last one, wondering just what we’re doing to you right now. It will eat him up alive. It will destroy him. By the time I am through, Killian McClary will be on his knees, begging me to end his suffering.”
The hatred turning his features demonic was terrifying. It twisted his perfect features into something evil and frightening. It was as though his hatred could manifest itself in human form and it was a terrible sight to behold.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked again. “What has he done that was so horrible it justifies kidnapping and murder?”
He turned away from her slowly and made his way back to the bar. He drew down a crystal tumbler and set it on the table with a resounding crack. A bottle of whiskey was brought out and placed next to it. The amber liquid sloshed in its confines, reminding her of liquid honey.
“I’ve got my reasons and believe me, they are quite justified.”
Ice cubes struck the bottom of the glass with a rattling clink and was drowned by whiskey. The bottle was set aside. The cap twisted back into place. He raised the drink. Light lanced off the rim as he brought it to his lips.
“If you let me talk to him, I am sure I can get back whatever was taken,” she urged. “I know he will. Please, you don’t have to hurt anyone.”
“Have you ever heard the story of Tantalus?”
The question threw her. It was said so unexpectedly that for a moment, she could only stare at him in confusion.
“I’m sorry?”
Drink in hand, Cyril made his way back to the sofa. He sat with flawless grace, folding one leg over the other and observing her over the rim of his drink.
“Tantalus,” he repeated like saying it a second time might help jog her memory.
Juliette shook her head. “No, who—?”
“Tantalus betrayed the Gods by divulging their secrets and stealing from them. But the worst betrayal was the day he killed his son Pelops and cooked him in a meal, which he served to the Gods. They of course knew and didn’t eat it, except Demeter who accidentally ate a part of Pelops’ shoulder. But as punishment, they cast Tantalus into the deepest part of Tartarus where he was to remain in the middle of a large lake with an apple branch dangling just over his head. He would stay there forever, unable to eat, despite the apples and unable to drink, despite an entire lake at his feet. All because of one little betrayal. It’s a powerful and horrible tool that can destroy everything.”
Juliette had never heard of the story, but it sounded completely disgusting.
“I don’t understand.”
She prayed to God that wasn’t how he was planning to end his game, by cooking her and feeding her to Killian.
“The moral of the story is how Tantalus treated the Gods, who were so good to him. They cared for him and no matter what he did, they forgave him and continued to give him their favor. But it wasn’t enough. He was greedy and selfish. In the end, it consumed him.”
No matter how much he said, he seemed to make less sense the longer Juliette listened. His riddles were only making her head hurt and she needed to focus in case she missed something important.
“That was how it all began, with Callum McClary betraying my father, ruining him and his reputation after my father made Callum what he was, for treating him like family. But it wasn’t enough. Callum got greedy. He sold my father out, got him arrested like some common criminal and thrown in jail. It didn’t matter what my father did after that. No one wanted to work with him. No one trusted that he could deliver. So of course my father was angry. He had every right to be.”
“Yegor Yolvoski,” Juliette whispered, not sure how she knew, but knowing without a shadow of a doubt.
Cyril’s head lifted, surprise stilled his drink halfway to his lips. “So you’ve heard the story.”
Juliette swallowed. “It was an accident. Callum didn’t call the authorities. They just—”
“They were tipped off,” Cyril cut in, taking up his drink once more and downing a large mouthful. “Someone told them where the ship would be. It was also highly suspicious that the minute Callum McClary broke their contract my father would get caught immediately after.”
“But that was so long ago,” she stressed. “Everyone involved is dead. Can’t you let it—?”
“They are dead because your boyfriend killed them.” He set his drink down with a deafening crack on the end table next to his elbow. “He slaughtered my entire family in a single night. Everyone, but me.”
His bitter hostilities towards that fact caught Juliette by surprise. It was as though the worst thing Killian ever did was let him live.
“Your father tortured and brutalized his mother and killed his father,” she pointed out. “Maybe it’s time to end this.”
“No!” Temper turned his cheeks a harsh, sunburned red. With his soft, pink suit, he reminded her of a fancy lobster. “His father betrayed mine. Mine got even. That is where it should have ended. It was over. Callum broke the code. My father let him live. That should have been enough. But Killian sought vengeance instead and I am amazed by how unperturbed you are by his viciousness while when I seek the same justice, you get upset. Is it because I want your life?” The genuine confusion in the question had his head cocking to the side. “Would you be less distressed if I were to take someone else in your place?”
Juliette gave her head a shake. “I don’t want it to be anyone. I just want to go home.”
“To him?”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes.”
Even if Killian didn’t want her.
Cyril’s arm lowered slowly. The ice in his glass rattled softly as his hand settled neatly in his lap and he regarded her with open puzzlement.
“Is he home? That murderer? That … monster?”
“Yes,” Juliette whispered again. “He’s not the way you say. I know he’s not. Killian isn’t a monster.”
He stared at her. A faint dent appeared between his furrowed eyebrows and was shadowed by the wisps of hair that had escaped across his brow. There was a question in his eyes she didn’t understand.
“It was him,” he insisted at last, refusing to believe her. “I saw him with my own eyes, standing over my mother, drenched in my father and brothers’ blood. It was a sight I will never forget.” Pale lashes lowered. He peered at the glass in his hand like all his memories lay within next to the abandoned chunks of ice. “My father had been doubling security for weeks since the systematic murder of his men the last two months. He’d known it was only a matter of time before the threat came to our doors. That night, when the alarms sounded, my mother put me in a closet. She made me promise not to come out no matter what I heard. Then she kissed me, said she loved me, and left. That was the last time she would ever say those words to me.” The hatred in his eyes when they lifted to bore into her curdled the contents of her stomach. “I broke my promise and left the cupboard. I’d already heard my brothers being killed, heard the weight of their bodies hitting the ground, their screams … I’d heard my father begging for my mother’s life and I knew she was next. So, I ran to her, not caring if I was killed too. She was on the floor, surrounded by the bodies of my family. My eldest brother was pulled into her lap and she was sobbing like I had never heard before. The sound was horrible. I wasn’t even sure it was human. But Killian stood over her like an angel of death descending on my family. But I couldn’t let him have her, not my mother. I threw myself between them. I swore I would kill him if he touched her and he just stood there, staring at me with those black eyes, his face splattered with blood. I was so sure he would kill me too. But he didn’t. Even then, he was mocking me. It was a game to him, poetic justice. My father spared him, so he would spare me so I would live on knowing his pain.”