Eleazar reached for a folded sawhorse and opened it, situating the stand on level ground. He did the same with the other, then set several long boards across the top, forming a table—roughly the length of one male.
“Come dawn, my family will realize I’m missing. You will have to answer to The Council, Bishop, and I plan to tell them you imprisoned me without the right to speak my peace.”
Eleazar untied the string of a small leather sack and poured nails onto the table. He counted to make sure he had enough.
“Once they find out what you did, you’ll face consequences.”
Lifting the hand saw, Eleazar pointed it at his prisoner. “You always say too much, Brother Silus.” He crossed a two-by-four over the wood planks and cut it to length, eyeballing it to fit perfectly along the width of the four planks.
Once he sawed it, he cut two more, nailing one two-by-four to the head of the table, one to the foot, and one to the center. He lifted the flat surface to inspect that all pieces were secure. Then he set it against the wall and started the entire process over again.
Silus rested one forearm through the bars and watched him while his other arm hung uselessly at his side. “You’ll see what she’s like. Eventually, you’ll know how infuriating—”
Before he could speak another blasphemous word about his mate, Eleazar had him by the jaw, a pair of pliers wedged in his mouth, locked on his tongue, and a look of sheer murder in his eyes.
“Speak one more ill word of her, and I swear to all that is holy that I will break every tooth in your head and cut out your tongue.”
Sweat gathered on Silus’s battered face.
“Nod if you understand.”
He mumbled an incoherent word and nodded. Eleazar released him and returned to his woodworking.
Silus watched him through bloodshot eyes. The longer Eleazar worked, the tighter the male’s tension coiled.
Once Eleazar had two flat surfaces constructed, he started on the sides—cutting wood to the length of the other piece’s width. All four would have to be roughly two feet high.
Silus grew impatient with watching the process and paced the cell. Dry blood clotted on his torn shirt, and he moved with a slight limp. His skin bore the remaining claw marks from Eleazar’s fists, and his hair was in complete disarray. His arm still appeared broken as it hung lifelessly at his side, loose from the socket.
Setting each constructed piece aside, Eleazar kept his gaze on his work. “I warned you what would happen if you ever laid a finger on her again. It’s forbidden to touch another male’s mate. You’ve broken one of our most sacred laws.”
His words cut away as he took several moments to seethe through his rage, remembering the filthy condition in which he found her: throat ripped open, body drained of her divine blood, her precious life sustained by a thread. It had been clear that Silus meant to end her.
Hardly calm, he pushed out a jagged breath and asked, “What would you have told The Elders if she had died?”
Their eyes met, and it was clear he had not thought that far ahead.
Elazar slammed a fist into the cement wall, sending cracks bursting outward like tributaries. “What would your excuse have been?” He shouted. Bearing his fangs, he spoke through clenched teeth. “What justification did you have to touch my mate?”
“She’s still my wife.”
His breathing stopped as he glared at Silus with pure hatred. Eleazar reached behind him, removing a sheath of papers from the waste of his trousers and marched to the cell.
“Sign them,” he growled, shoving the contract through the bars as the papers fluttered to the dusty floor.
Silus glanced dispassionately at the annulment papers and made no move to collect them.
“Pick them up and sign them!”
They locked glares. Eleazar would not budge. If he had to open a vein on the male to seal the contract in blood, he would. He would see that it was signed.
“If you want any mercy for your crimes, you will sign the annulment. There’s no winning her back. She’s mine. Not a single elder on The Council will overlook your crimes tonight. You’ve been ordered by them to sign. Now pick up the papers and sign!”
With a deep huff of distaste, he bent and collected the papers. “I’ll need a pen.”
Eleazar flung one into the cell and Silus grunted when it embedded in his arm. He yanked the pen free with a grunt and used the wall as a flat surface, scribbling his name in black ink and blood. He fed the papers through the bars and Eleazar collected them from the floor, rolling the contract into a scroll and storing it safely in the waistband of his pants once more.
“Will you let me out now?”