Carpathian 22 - Dark Predator

truth. Charlie had to have told them that, which was why they hadn’t waited. It was obvious Lea had been brutally beaten and yet she hadn’t given up Marguarita.
    Remembering the ring and the words in the ancient tongue engraved in the antique gold, she plunged her left hand into her skirt pocket. She needed to remove the ring, but Zacarias, being who and what he was, had made it the exact size to snugly fit her finger. It would take a few tugs to slip it off.
    Can you do that for me?
    She felt his hesitation. He didn’t want to waste the energy.
    I can stall them for a time to give you time to recoup. It will give me a small chance to convince them you aren’t here.
    She already knew they weren’t going to take her word for it and eventually, after a show of being beaten, she would have to give up some location for them to dig in. If they had any brains, they’d look at her throat and know she would never give up his location no matter what they did to her.
    Yes, you will. I will not allow them to put another hand on you. Tell them.
    Like hell, I’ll tell them.
    His heart jerked. She felt it. That quiet smoldering rage that built like a volcano beneath the earth. You will obey me in this.
    Actually, no, I don’t think I will. I can handle them. If we get that far, you can destroy them, but I have weapons all over the house. I just need to get a chance at them.
    I forbid this.
    Forbid away. Did he really think she would give him up to these insane fanatics?
    She handed the note to DS. He read it, cursed, crumpled it up and threw it in her face. His fist hit the wall beside her head.
    She felt the ring loosen on her finger and slide off into her pocket. The relief was instantaneous. Zacarias might be angry with her, but he still reached out to protect her as best he could. Even that small push of energy drained him. She could feel his weakness—and his frustration. He remained alert, no longer arguing with her, reading her determination just as easily as she could read his anger and silent promise of retaliation. Strangely, that made her shiver, frightening her more than DS and Esteban. But not enough to allow them to get to Zacarias. She would take the consequences as long as she saved his life.
    “Do you think I’m kidding around with you? I can hurt you like you’ve never been hurt.”
    Lea reached out and took Marguarita’s hand in silent camaraderie. “I’m sorry. There was no real way to warn you.”
    “Shut up,” DS snapped. He shoved Lea toward the large family room. “Get in there. Both of you.”
    Esteban snatched up the satchel and followed. His face beaded with sweat, the smell permeating the room making Marguarita want to gag. Both men were terrified, but so high and elated at the thought of driving a stake through Zacarias’s heart that they couldn’t stand still.
    “Watch them,” DS snapped.
    He prowled through the house, inspecting every nook and cranny, paying attention to the floors, and closets, opening every door. Marguarita kept the house in perfect order. There were no marks on any of the floors indicating furniture had been moved, or trap doors were installed. The floorboards appeared seamless, even when DS moved throw rugs. She tried not to wince when she heard pottery smashing on the floor, or her dishes being thrown as his frustration and anger grew.
    Her heart gave a little thud of protest when he stalked back into the room, fury on his face. His eyes locked onto hers as he marched toward her determinedly. Lea gave a small squeal of fear and moved closer to Marguarita as though she might protect her. Marguarita withdrew immediately from Zacarias, not wanting him to witness or feel what was coming. She heard the sharp echo of his protest, but she broke the contact off anyway. He was already upset with her for not disclosing his location, so what did it really matter if she could spare him this?
    His face was a twisted mask. “You will tell me what I want to know, you little demon bitch.” Spittle flew from his mouth. His eyes were maniacal.
    DS rained blows on Marguarita without mercy, her face, her stomach, every unprotected part of her body until she went to the floor and he kicked her repeatedly. Marguarita was grateful she couldn’t scream. No sound emerged, no matter how much she cried out in pain. She did her best to cover her face and body while the blows continued, curling into the fetal position. The attack continued forever it seemed. She lost track of