When Elain opened her eyes, she was no longer in the basement being whipped, but in her bedroom.
Thank the Gods.
One small move and her entire body ached, as if the pain had seeped into her bones and settled deep within her. The wounds covering her back throbbed with relentless agony.
She couldn't remember what happened after she passed out. She didn't know how many lashes it had taken before her consciousness slipped away. But she remembered Rory's voice, shouting, pleading with Cynthia to stop. Rory had begged to take her place, yet Cynthia had acted as though she hadn't heard a single word.
With the kind of pain she had endured, and with the thick stench of blood filling her nose—her own blood—it felt like a miracle she was still alive.
She had endured Cynthia's unforgiving lashes once as a child, but receiving them again as an adult was entirely different… especially in such number.
