The more Caspian’s temper flared, the more Ethan’s words got under his skin. Driving his fist forward with as much force as he could muster, he craved to wipe the smug grin off the rebel’s face. To hell with respectability and to hell with being the better man. He was sick of being the “nice guy.” Look where that had gotten him, locked up in a rebel cell with the man who was most likely going to take his life the instant he realized he wasn’t going to get any information out of him. When he’d been backed against a wall, the only thing he had left was his will to fight and to survive for a few minutes longer.

Swallowing his kind heart in anger, he felt a twinge of satisfaction when he saw the droplets of blood that stained the other man’s white shirt after his first punch. He seemed to have gotten to the rebel too as Ethan hissed at him, revealing his own frustration underneath the layer of cockiness he wore on his face. It was only a fraction of what he deserved for terrorizing him and Iris, but it was better than nothing. He hoped it hurt him as much as it looked like it did.

Provoked by the rebel’s jeer of calling him a dog, Cas swung again, only to blink in surprise when he felt Ethan’s hand catch hold of his wrist. His opponent was faster than he’d thought. He shifted his weight to pull back but then faltered when the rebel bore down on the limb with unexpected strength. Biting down hard on his lip to stifle a cry of pain, he pulled back to get away from him and raised his other arm to throw a punch. Ethan was much faster though, wrenching his captured wrist downward toward the floor. The jarring motion put even more strain on his bones until a crack could be heard, and the prince let out an agonized howl, dropping to the ground and clutching his forearm as he stared in shock at the broken limb.

Expecting to be tortured and actually enduring the hell of it were two entirely different things. Through the adrenaline, he hadn’t felt the full pain of having his wrist snapped in half, but it was still horrifying to see his own hand bent at an unnatural angle, quickly swelling at its mangled joint. He didn’t have time to process it either, as the rebel was now standing over him with his gun aimed at his chest.

Looking up at him, Cas felt lightheaded as the whole of everything began to overwhelm him. He was going to die. He’d never expressly feared his own demise, but now that he was staring down the barrel of a gun, the reality gripped him fiercely, and he trembled, unsure whether he should close his eyes or keep them open, so he could prepare himself for the bullet that would pierce his heart. Either way, cold terror washed over him as the rebel squeezed the trigger, and he turned his head away, waiting for the lethal blow.

The deafening bang of the weapon ensued, but instead of feeling his heart burst from the impact, the prince was taken aback by an explosion of agony that blossomed in his thigh. He screamed and grasped his leg with his good hand, tears streaming uncontrollably as he watched blood well up and begin to pour from the bullet hole. Even Regis’s knife hadn’t hurt this intensely. He found himself wishing that Ethan had just shot him in the heart instead.

[color=#b97703]“You psychopath!”[/color] he yelled at the rebel, gritting his teeth as the torment of his injuries wracked his body. [color=#b97703]“Just kill me and be done with it!”[/color] almost as soon as the words left his mouth, he groaned and gasped for air. Every part of him hurt so much that he could no longer tell where the pain was coming from. His broken ribs sent shooting pains through his chest, his broken wrist did the same at the end of his arm, and the bullet lodged in his thigh was so agonizing that it almost felt like it was poisoning him. His vision was spotty with black and red, and he couldn’t move from where he laid on the floor.

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness crashed over him, and his head dropped to the concrete. Overwhelmed with pain, it was difficult for him to stay awake, and he panted raggedly, fighting the urge to pass out. He wished he could see Iris again, to find comfort in her presence one more time before Ethan killed him, but he couldn’t even sit upright. All he could do was lay in his misery and hope the rebel would finish him off before he went into shock from his wounds.