Chapter 4: The Climb

The smug son of Lord Bolton stands before Theon, who has been spread across the crossed racks with each limb bound securely. "The Stark boys," Ramsay drolls, "They're still alive.

Ramsay can just picture himself standing on the necks of those two runts, his laughter filling the air as beautiful tears streak down their faces.

Theon, however, has had enough pain and has nothing to lose. He has endured countless tortures at the hands of this boy with no end in sight and no hope to escape. There is no Yara that can swoop in and save him, no Balon, no Robb Stark, no Maester Luwin, no Ned. All he has is himself.

Ramsay leans forward. If he had the chance, he would have whispered, "Wouldn't that be a hunt to remember?" Theon does not give him such a chance. The Greyjoy prince's head snaps forward, his mouth open and his teeth bared. He bites right through Ramsay's throat.

The bastard of Bolton's eyes go wide, his breath stops, his mind goes blank. He cannot move his little finger, let alone any of his limbs. Theon finally yanks his head back with a solid ripping sound.

Ramsay crumples to the ground, and Theon swallows the blood in his mouth and licks the rest off his lips. This is a far finer drink than even the water callously spilt at the table.