“I’ll make you pay for that,” Cregan hissed. Once we were inside, he sliced off my shirt and shackled my wrists with a chain that hung from the ceiling. When he raised the chain, I could only barely touch the floor with my arms suspended above me.
Mott had gone to the far corner of the room, but now he approached me. In his hands was some sort of whip. It had a long handle, with a thick leather strap on the end that he held tightly bundled.
“Conner said not to leave scars.” It was impossible to control the tremble in my voice as I spoke.
Cregan’s grin revealed his eagerness for that whip to fly. “He said nothing about bruises. As long as he hits you with the broad side of this strap, you’ll feel the pain, but it shouldn’t cut you.”
“Please don’t do this, Mott.” I wasn’t above begging.
“You chose this!” he yelled. “Didn’t I warn you before?”
“What’s so important about the rock?” Cregan asked.
“It’s not about the rock,” Mott said. “The boy just wants to win. This is his way of proving that Conner doesn’t own him.”
“He doesn’t own me,” I said.
That elicited Mott’s first snap of the whip. I’d prepared myself for pain, but not as great as this. A scream burst from my lips that didn’t sound like me. Mott snapped it again and then a third time. My legs collapsed beneath me, which pulled hard at my shoulders.
“Where’s the rock?” Mott asked.
Without waiting for an answer, he snapped the whip again. I felt myself separating from the pain, as if a part of me had stepped aside to watch it happen. That part of me cringed at the sound of strap hitting flesh. The other part continued to scream.
“He doesn’t own me,” I whispered. “It’s my gold.”
The whip snapped again, ripping like a claw into my skin, then Mott scowled. “Get a towel.”
“Conner said not to draw blood!” Cregan said.
“He said not to leave scars. Get me the bandages and then we’ll leave him alone. We’ll give him time to think about his next answer.”
Cregan disappeared for a moment while Mott cursed and threw the whip back into the corner of the room. A minute later, Cregan returned with a bottle of clear liquid and a cloth.
“I’ll take care of this,” Mott said. “Don’t tell Conner anything more than you have to.”
“Give me five minutes alone with him,” Cregan said with a growl. “I’ll find out where the rock is.”
“Get out!” Mott commanded.
When we were alone, Mott unscrewed the bottle. I caught a whiff of it and shook my head. “Don’t. No more.”
“This sting won’t be much better than the whip,” Mott warned.
He poured the liquid onto the cloth, then pressed it to my back. I howled again and kicked Mott in the knee, and he stumbled backward.
“You’ll get infected if I don’t clean this,” he said angrily. “I’m the only friend you’ve got right now, so don’t upset me.”
“If you’re my friend, then who are my enemies?”
“You are your own enemy, Sage. Look in the mirror for the cause of your problems. Do you think I wanted to hold that whip?”
He patted my back again with the cloth and I cursed at him.
“Watch your mouth, or Conner will have me whip that out of you too.”
“It hurts!” My back was on fire and every nerve in my body felt it.
“I don’t know why Conner hasn’t killed you already,” Mott said. “He sees something in you worth keeping, but his patience won’t last forever. Give him the rock, Sage.”