Castigating herself for the neglect, her gaze fell to the ring and then something that felt like a fist, slamming into her stomach.

No…

Her heart stopped.

It was her mother’s second wedding ring. The one that her father had bought as a present when they’d been on a pilgrimage years ago and had renewed their vows…

The ring she’d placed on Kere’s pinkie…

Why would the Caronese heir have the ring she’d given to Kere?

The truth slapped her hard.

No, surely not…

Darling was too weak to look up as he heard the door open and the harsh lights flared on again. Besides, it no longer mattered to him who his torturer was.

In the beginning, he’d been determined to remember everyone who hurt him so that he could hunt them down and kill them.

But all hope of ever tasting freedom again was gone. He’d faced the truth weeks ago. He was never going to get out of here alive. And at this point, he didn’t want to.

All he wanted was to die. C’mon, you fucking bastards, just kill me.

Was that really so much to ask?

“Where did you get this?”

He could barely open his swollen eyes to see what someone was holding right under his nose.

What was it?

The woman slapped him hard on his festering cheek. “I asked you a question.”

This time, he recognized the voice.

Zarya.

Hope tore through him. Had she finally come to set him free? His breathing ragged from the effort it took, he lifted his head to meet her gaze. Surely she would recognize him this time…

But there was still no recognition in her cold amber eyes. Only bitter, cruel hatred. “Where’s Kere?”

I’m right here in front of you.

Why can’t you see me?

She backhanded him so hard that the engagement ring he’d given her sliced open his cheek again. “I want you to answer me! Now! What did you bastards do to Kere? Damn you! Tell me!”

How could he answer her? Couldn’t she see the muzzle straps that wrapped around his head to hold it in place? A muzzle that pierced his throat and tongue every time she hit him?

Blood filled his mouth, choking him until it had no choice except to run from the corners of his lips. The pain of it made his eyes water. He winced as the saline in those tears burned like acid on his skin.

Burying her hand in his hair, she wrenched his head back, which caused the muzzle to cut even deeper into his throat. “You killed him, didn’t you?”

No. They’d killed him. Her soldiers. His former allies. Her unfeeling apathy and callous disregard for what her men did to him. Their cruelty and torture had ripped the last shred of his soul out of him. He was nothing but an empty shell now.

After all the years of Arturo trying to break him, it had been his own allies who had finally succeeded.