Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
Kallie
My shoulders burn from the pressure, wrists aching from my weight. Fuck my head hurts. I wince, and a sharp pain explodes through my temples when I try to lift it.
Vision blurry, body sore, memory hazy at best.
A gentle, cold breeze enters out of nowhere, thankfully breaking up the beads of sweat forming on my forehead. My head lolls to the side, resting against my shoulder while I search for some clarity.
Callum. That motherfucker. I knew better. Even when it looked like him, my guard should’ve been up. But I let it drop, let him in, because there’s one sick part of me that still craves his presence. His touch. And that part is what got me back here—in Astralis.
My magic is long gone, suppressed by whatever it was he injected me with. Not that I expected anything less, but it’s like second nature to reach for it, use it to help me get out of whatever mess I find myself in.
All that running, hiding…Serena’s death?
It was all for nothing. I just ended up right back in the prison I started in.
Except, the room is different. No longer am I resting in a cage.
Instead, they gave me my own private suite.
An open room with plenty of area to get a running start to launch myself into the cinderblock walls—that is, if they ever let me out of the chains.
A gust of wind blows toward me, causing the chain to sway, and I bite the inside of my cheek with brutal force. “You’re awake,” Callum’s voice rings through the room. As he comes closer, I note the scar starting below his ear and running down the length of his jawline.
I know that didn’t come from me. Although, I wish it had.
“You look rough,” I spit, throat gravelly from the side effects of whatever he injected me with.
“Says the one chained to the ceiling.” He—unfortunately—has a point. “I can give you one to match. Seems only fitting since you’re the reason I got it in the first place.” That piques my interest.
“You and I both know it won’t stick.”
“But it sure would be fun trying.”
“Why don’t you let me out of these, and we’ll see who comes out with the most scars.” I shake the chains for emphasis, ignoring the pain as I do.
“But why do that when I can do whatever I wish to you like this?”
“Because that’s a coward’s fight, and you know it.” He stares at me curiously, racing his eyes up and down my defenseless form.
There’s a hole in my chest. One that can only be filled by Voraxis’s reassurance, his comforting notes that he’s coming. It won’t come. But that hole sinks further, dropping to my stomach at the thought that I’ll never hear it again.
Now, there are no tears to hold back. All the sadness is replaced with hatred, anger, and resentment. “How sweet that you gave me a private room this time.”
“New protocol. You’re a flight risk.”
“So putting me in solitary was your way of ensuring I wouldn’t get out? Seems to me you have little faith in yourself.”
“Faith has nothing to do with it.” Faith has nothing to do with a lot of things these days. With faith comes hope, and I fear that’s something I’ll never have again.
“Callum. I know you’re in there. Somewhere deep down, you don’t want to do this.” I try to appeal to the other side of him, plead with the side that watched me escape the first time.
“The Callum you knew is gone. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“He’s in there,” I insist, not wanting to believe that after everything, he’s really truly gone. Callum chuckles menacingly, looking down for a moment like I’m being hysterical.
“I take back what I said before,” I start, which in turn pulls his attention back to me. “You are a monster.”
He saunters over to me, taking his sweet time closing the distance that separates us. Callum leans in close, whispering in my ear, “The worst of them all.” His breath is warm, hitting the shell of my ear, creating a direct contrast to the cold bite of the blade he’s holding against my throat.
“It’s funny if you think I’m afraid of death,” I state, leaning slightly into the knife. “Joke’s on you. Death would be a gift—a mercy. But tell me, Callum, could you live with yourself? If you were the one to finally put me out of my misery?”
He pulls his head back sharply, and I watch the old him flicker to the surface before being smothered again. “It would be an honor.”
He’s in there. I don’t know how to get him back, but at least there’s still a chance.
“Slit my throat, Callum. Fucking do it! If all of this meant nothing, if this was the plan all along, then make me bleed, flood the floor with crimson, and let my blood stain your hands.” I push into the sharp edge, the bite of pain nearly dull—nonexistent—as I stare into his eyes while the soft trickle cascades down the column of my throat.
Silently, my fingers grapple against the chain, shoulders screaming with the smallest movement.
My magic might not be of use right now, but my strength is returning—kicked up from all the adrenaline and whatnot.
Callum’s eyes ping-pong between mine, fighting with the other part of himself, too distracted to notice.
“You’re so dense. Too dumb to realize that you’re also just another pawn in the game.
” If appealing to his normal side won’t work, I guess I’ll try appealing to his anger.
We always did communicate best when we were fighting.
In an instant, my fingers wrap around the chain with an iron grip.
Hauling myself up, I ignore the wail of insanity my shoulders send out, breathing heavily as I hit my mark.
I catch him off guard, and the force of my legs upswinging knocks the blade from his hand, and it blissfully clatters to the ground.
I keep the momentum going, wrapping my legs around his neck and locking my ankles.
My thighs squeeze tight, cutting off his oxygen the old-fashioned way.
The new position is a relief, causing the pressure in my shoulders to subside, turning into a dull, manageable throb.
“If relief was what you wanted, all you had to do was ask,” Callum chimes, sultry and seductive, which may only feel that way because his words are directed at my center.
I loathe the way my body betrays me, hate the effect he still has on me despite everything that’s happened. He chuckles against me, and I unfortunately didn’t think very far ahead. There’s only so much I can do from this position.
And I fear I’ve reached that limit. “Callum, listen to me.” His shadows lash out, wrapping around each of my legs to pull me apart.
“Do you remember the first day?” He doesn’t reply, slowly separating my legs from his neck.
“I was standing alone in the gym, waiting for someone to spar with me. I’d almost given up because, truth be told, I was embarrassed,” I admit, pressing with all my strength to keep him in my clutches.
“I can still hear your voice clear as day.”
“Didn’t think you’d give up that easily,” he continues for me, his grip loosening.
“There was something about your voice that intrigued me from the start. Everything about you intrigued me from the start. It was terrifying and exhilarating, and I was completely out of my element.” My strength starts to deplete, and I struggle to keep my current position.
But I can’t stop. He’s close. I can feel the webs of his subconscious getting pulled apart—the real him trying to break through the debris.
“And you can deny it all you want, but I know you followed me into the woods when I went on that run. But even then, there was that undeniable pull toward you. I couldn’t explain it then, but something you said—what seems like a lifetime ago—made it all make sense.
” Our memories collide with one another, and I wasn’t expecting it to make me feel like I can’t catch my breath.
It’s jarring—the memories—because I spent so much time trying to forget them.
The good and the bad.
“What did I say?” he asks, his voice sounding softer—more like him.
I can’t look at him, tears in my eyes as I remember the way he looked at me.
The way he said those five words, like they created the most important declaration of love.
My heart aches in my chest, yearning for that same time.
The words catch in my throat, the sound of his voice playing in my head as I say them to him.
“We’re written in the stars.” Our eyes lock.
Through my blurry vision, he peers up at me, having enough leeway since my hold has slackened.
“You remember all of that?”
“In painstaking detail.” I chuckle. His laugh follows close behind. I blink the tears back, smiling—genuinely smiling for the first time in forever. And just like everything else, it all comes crashing down.
Literally.
Callum drops through the gap I created, all the sappy memories causing my grip to loosen to almost nothing.
In doing so, my legs fall—fucking gravity—and the tension instantly snaps through my body, and my shoulders take the brunt of the impact.
Excruciating, blinding pain seers through my back, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if my shoulders were ripped from the sockets.
A guttural scream tears from my throat as I swing back and forth, the height of the chain making it impossible for me to get any sort of stabilization.
My fingers grapple at the chain, but the sweat makes it slippery, and I’m unable to keep a grip.
In the midst of my own agony, I forgot about Callum.
My neck snaps down frantically, but his form is stationary, knees and hands pressed into the cement floor, his head hanging low between his shoulders.
“Callum?” my voice comes out uneasy. At the mention of his name, his body visibly stiffens, and I truly have no idea which version of him is left.
Until his eyes meet mine.
The voidness in them is gone, not only complete darkness but with that sliver of green I’ve committed to memory.
The color is so piercing it’s like a beacon calling my soul home.
Callum rises slowly—like he’s afraid if he moves too fast, he’ll be gone, shoved back into the depths of his own mind—before he stands to his full height.
“It’s gone,” he says, almost uncertain. “The tension, the feeling…I don’t know how to explain it…
” he trails off, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“It’s like it just vanished,” he finishes, taking a hesitant step in my direction before the distance between us is closed completely, and he grabs my face with both hands.
Instinctively, my legs wrap around his middle, bringing instant relief.
One of his thumbs swipes against my cheek, wiping away the tears as they fall of their own accord.
“Don’t cry for me. I don’t deserve your tears,” he says, brows pulled together. I don’t have to be in his head to know what he’s thinking. He hates himself. Hates what he did to me.
“I knew you were in there. You’re too stubborn to go away for good.” That at least earns me a quirk of his lip. He doesn’t say anything, though, too immersed in his own thoughts to voice a response. “Kiss me,” I demand.
He doesn’t skip a beat. One second, he’s looking into my eyes, saying all the words his mouth won’t voice, and the next, his lips crash into mine.
Tongues and teeth clash, roughness and passion that is full of I’m sorrys and I love yous.
Callum pulls back first, resting his forehead against mine. “Let’s get you out of here.”
He slowly pulls my legs off him, gently letting them down so the shift isn’t as bad. However, once the contact is severed, the door opens again, and our eyes grow wide. Callum gives me a subtle shake of his head before settling into the skin of the monster I’ve become all too familiar with.