PROLOGUE

“Where is the boy?” he questioned calmly—voice sounding dangerously low. 

“Go to hell!” she bawled, glaring at him with scorn. 

T-Murek snorted at her rage. “Do you want to die like this?” he gestured towards Sinclair’s body, which lay just a few inches away. “In a matter of minutes, your husband’s body would serve as food for creatures that walk these woods. Do you want same fate to befall you?”

Rebecca was crying, yet she felt furious. She snarled at him, her eyes bloodshot and filled with unrestrained rage. “You would have to kill me before I let you lay a hand on my son, you bastard!”

Rebecca couldn’t understand where the sudden courage to face T-Murek came from. She felt invincible at that moment, like she could do anything—like she could take him on.

“Very well.” His lips curled into a scornful smile. “We’ll have it your way.” 

Her hands folded into a tight fist and remained at her side. And just then, she understood where the courage came from. She drew strength from the desire to keep her son alive. It scared her that she felt no fear facing him.

Before she could even stop to think, T-Murek was already onto her—his sharp claws opened to tear her—but she was quick to respond. She punched him hard in the gut, sending him crashing back into the tree behind. 

T-Murek, surprised, quickly got up, a grin settling on his lips. “Not bad at all,” he commended, sounding calm. “Not bad.”

She was breathing fast, chest heaving rapidly. In the next instance, T-Murek clutched her neck and slammed her back against a tree bark, pinning her down. Everything happened faster than her eyes could process. 

Pressing her neck against the tree, he slowly lifted her off her feet. “Now, I’m going to ask again.” This time he sounded meaner—perhaps angrier even. “Where… is… the boy?”

Rebecca let out a choking gasp. She wiggled her feet in mid-air, struggling to escape his tight grip. Blood dribbled out of her mouth. Then suddenly, she stopped fighting. Her arms dropped and her lips curved into a faint smile. 

T-Murek, puzzled by her smile, narrowed his eyes at her. “What amuses you?”

“You really want to know?” she gurgled, and her smile got a bit more inscrutable. “I’m going to die today knowing you’ll never lay a finger on my baby boy.” 

The soft cry of an infant echoed off the trees. Her eyes widened in deep horror. T-Murek slowly turned to look in the direction where he heard the cry. His smile reappeared. 

“What’s that you were saying again?” there was silent laughter in his voice.

Her strength ebbed away. She struggled to fight through his grip, but he was just too strong and wouldn’t let go. “T-Murek Please, I’m begging you... don’t hurt him,” she whimpered between her sobs, her lips trembling.

T-Murek tightened his grip around her neck, choking her. “Too bad there’d be no one to watch as I torture you.” He quickly let go of her and Rebecca dropped with a thud. She rubbed her neck, gasping for air. 

“But I’d make sure you watch as I rip the boy’s heart right through his chest.” 

He started towards where he heard the cry. There, he saw the little infant lying at the foot of the tree where Rebecca had left him. Just as he bent to pick him up, Rebecca gripped his right foot and restrained him, which almost caused him to stumble. He quickly swung a foot to kick her head, burying her face in mud. 

Rebecca slowly got up, her face mixed with blood and mud, her grip still tight on his foot. She didn’t slet go. She gazed up at T-Murek—a pitiful look on her face, hoping to gain his sympathy. Almost immediately, his fist bumped into her face. The impact sent her spinning backward. Her vision blurred. Her nose felt broken, and her upper lips swollen. 

T-Murek took the little boy in his arms and sauntered towards her. The boy started crying from the discomfort that he felt as T-Murek carried him. 

Rebecca turned to look upon the lifeless body of her husband, then returned her gaze to T-Murek. She felt a renewed urge to fight, not for herself, but for her little boy. For she would gladly die if by any slim chance her son will get to live. When she tried to get up, her strength failed her; sharp pain ripple through every inch of her body, and she collapsed back on the floor. 

Rebecca swallowed hard, her eyes closing as her strength ebbed away. “Please—” Her voice came out strained. “—don’t hurt him. Break me, torture me, rip my soul apart, do whatever you want with me, but just let the boy live, I’m begging you.” 

T-Murek ignored her plea. “What’s his name?” he inquired, eyes fixed on the child.

“H-he hasn’t…” Rebecca stuttered, “He hasn’t been named yet.” Blood spilled from the wound T-Murek had inflicted on her neck.

T-Murek looked down at the child in his arm and smiled with such tender fatherly love. “He reminds me so much of my little brother, Kevin,” he said, smiling down at him. “Kevin suffered a brutal torture at my hands just before he died.”

T-Murek crouched, bringing himself nose-to-nose with Rebecca. He sounded dead serious as he spoke. “Do you know I had to stitch my brother’s eyes so they remain open while I torture him? I did this so he could see everything I did to his body. I didn’t let him blink. Not even for a second.”

His breath poured on her face as he spoke. “—and when I finally took the gag off his mouth, I asked him if he had anything to say to appreciate the beauty of my work on him. God, you should have seen how beautifully I carved his flesh,” he jabbered, leaning forward. 

“And do you know what he said to me?”

Rebecca had no interest in whatever he was saying. She fixed her gaze on the child crying in his arm. T-Murek’s claws had dug into his soft tender skin and blood was now streaming down his little arm.

“He said, I beg you, just let me die,” T-Murek raved, laughing hysterically. The child in his arm cried.

“Shuu! shuu! shuu! shuu! Hush now, Kevin,” he said to calm the child.

“Kevin?” Rebecca cried.

“You said he has no name; I just gave him one. After all, he would die just like my little brother.”

“No…” she shrieked.

“He won’t die today though. Too bad you won’t live long enough to witness the day I torture him.”

He slit her throat open with the jagged blade. Rebecca gasped, holding her neck as blood spilled. 

“Don’t let him suffer… for too long… after you’ve tortured him,” she gurgled and coughed. “… just give him a quick death.” 

Her arms fell. Her world went dark, and she collapsed on the floor, dead, beside her husband. 

The little boy’s cry filled the air.