“Yes,” Zayn answered, his voice low and grave. His eyes darkened as memories flooded back.
“These scars are from years of torture. Your father and brother made sure I always remembered who was in charge.”
Lily’s eyes widened. She stared at the raised lines crisscrossing his arm.
“The physical pain was nothing compared to what came after,” Zayn continued, his jaw tightening. “The screams of the others—my people—echo in my head night after night.”
Nightmarish scenes of torture and screams replayed in Zayn’s mind. He didn’t have to close his eyes to see it. Their contorted expressions and blood-curdling screams were etched into his brain. He closed his eyes tightly, wishing they would go away, but instead they became clearer.
“I used to see them all the time. It didn’t matter if I was asleep or awake. It was all the same. Then…”
A new horror resurfaced in his mind. The one he could never forget, the heaviest burden he carried.
