Chapter 22 #4
My limbs lock up completely. There’s no moving, no breathing. There’s only fear. Terror. The overwhelming rage that’s so real I can see it dancing like dust motes through the air. My body coils tight, but I can’t feel anything.
There is only him. Only Daxen and fear.
His hand whips back in a blur of motion. I’d flinch, but I still can’t move. I can only observe through eyes blurred by tears that won’t fall and brace for the strike I know is coming.
Except… it doesn’t.
Instead, his hand stills near his head, fingers curled like the claws of beast poised to strike.
To kill.
I see my future with perfect clarity. Like I’m watching outside my body, unable to feel anything. I don’t know if I’m alive or dead, or something else entirely.
Time slows to a crawl, but the gift of more time is wasted on me. I know what’s coming, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I’m about to die. Daxen’s going to rip out my throat, and I’m going to die.
My eyes flutter shut.
This is it, then. This is the end.
My body deflates. My muscles uncoil and go lax.
Any moment, claws will rip through skin and muscle, tear into flesh, sever my arteries, and end my life.
I want Caelan. I want to see him one last time. I want to feel his arms around me for one more second.
But wishing and hoping has never brought me anything but pain, and there’s no fighting a monster salivating for my death.
I know that.
I can feel something wet on my cheek and warm breath against my skin. Then—nothing.
My eyes flutter open.
I must be in shock because nothing makes sense. Moments ago, Daxen was right in front of me but now, he’s across the room, snarling and cursing. Three sets of arms struggle, fighting to hold him back.
His gaze crashes into mine. “I will fucking kill you, Omega! Do you understand me? You are dead!”
He’s raging, screaming, fighting to break away from the males who, I think, may have just saved my life.
Through my haze of confusion, I recognize Silas. He’s planted in front of Daxen, shoving him toward the door. He mutters something too low to hear over the ringing in my ears. Whatever it is just enrages him further.
With a surge of inhuman strength, Daxen rips out of his hold. He makes it halfway across the cell before the other two males restrain him.
I cover my mouth with shaking hands. The primal part of my brain urges me to stay silent and I comply.
“She’s gloating.” He whips accusing finger toward me. “Fucking gloating about his gunshot wound. Let me fucking go, Vaelenor. Let me go!”
Vaelenor.
The other Alpha restraining Daxen comes into focus. Even through my terror, my breath catches.
He’s… breathtaking.
His beauty is such a striking contrast to the brutality of the moment that my fear-addled brain refuses to accept it.
Once more I’m suddenly yanked from my body. An outsider watching the chaos and carnage around me. This Alpha—Vaelenor—is oddly, inhumanly beautiful. Auburn hair, summer-sky eyes, a face so immaculate in its perfection that the child in me is convinced he’s a storybook prince come to life.
No. Not a prince. A divinity. A king made of starlight and sin. Meant for rescuing princesses and ruling over kingdoms. Over worlds. Not strong-arming monsters in dark, damp cells.
“Nope,” the beautiful male says in a voice like summer sun. “I think we’re going to skip the homicide. Don’t want her to end up a chalk outline on the floor. Mostly because that’s creepy and we’ll never be able to reuse this cell.”
He wraps another arm around Daxen’s neck and hauls him into the hallway. There, he continues to speak in a soft, calm voice.
“Just chill, brother. We’ll get revenge. We’re going to make sure she—”
The rest is cut off by the metal door slamming shut. The sound’s like a thunderclap, reverberating through my bones.
As though all the oxygen’s been sucked from the room, my conscious slams back into my body.
It’s jarring. My senses come back online all at once, light and noise and fear crashing together and drowning me in an ocean of despair.
It’s too much. Too fast.
I take three deep breaths, lean to the side, and throw up. Bile splatters the floor. There’s nothing else in my stomach.
I place a shaking hand on the floor and push away from the mess. My vision’s still unfocused, but I don’t look away from the cold stone. I can’t.
I can’t think. Can’t speak. Can’t wrap my mind around what just happened.
I’m no stranger to violence. Some days, my entire world narrows to the space between beatings. For years, my reality’s been measured in pain.
But that—
That was something else.
My chest is hollow. Devoid of everything but the dim pulsing of my Mate Bond and the tiny flame that’s somehow still flickering.
My previous assessment was correct.
There’s no room for understanding here.
These males—this place—it’s a prison. And I’m their captive. They decided my guilt long ago. Probably before they knew who I was.
And Fates… I’m so tired of fighting.
I’m so, so tired.
“That was… interesting.”
Gods, the Doctor is still here. Can’t they all just leave me alone? I just want to collapse on this hard concrete floor, find my Bond, and forget everything else.
I want to disappear. Just for a while.
Can’t they give me that, at least?
“Please.” My plea comes out as a sob. I’m not even sure who I’m begging. Lenora? Daxen? The Fates?
“I—I can’t…”
Panic creeps back in, cunning and determined. The tiny sips of air I manage to force down my throat aren’t helping.
Nothing is helping.
I’m not safe.
I need my Mate. I need a nest. I need something—anything—to keep from breaking.
I fall. My palms smack the ground in a half-hearted attempt catch myself. I can’t get the look on Daxen’s face out of my head. The pure, unadulterated hatred was so real I can still feel it, seeping in and taking over like a parasite intent on ruining me.
Everything’s shaking. My body, my vision, the room around me.
The air tastes like copper and ozone. Like a storm about to break. Static electricity crawls over my skin, making my hairs stand on end.
The world spins and twists. I throw an arm out to steady myself against the wall and realize it’s not only me shaking.
The entire room is vibrating. Quaking, like a living thing trying to shake something loose.
The walls groan. The floor trembles.
“Holy shit. Get down.” Lenora’s voice sounds distant. Muted.
I watch with detached curiosity as she lunges across the space between us and throws herself on top of me. My shoulder slams into the wall, but the pain is as distant as sound.
With a resounding crack, the light fixture on the ceiling falls to the ground, exploding in a shower of broken glass.
Sparks fly. Glass rockets through the air in an arc—a dangerous, glittering rainfall of chaos that makes me curl into myself.
The smell of burnt plastic hits my nose and coats the back of my throat.
Then, there’s silence.
All I hear is the ringing in my ears. It grows louder and louder until it reaches a fever pitch.
The cell door flies open, and the Prince rushes in. He takes in the broken light fixture. The shards of glass scattered all over the floor. The empty hole in the ceiling. When he sees Lenora huddling across my prone form, his eyes widen further.
“What the actual fuck?”
I blink.
Lenora has my face in her hands. Her lips are moving, but the words don’t make sense. I try to focus. Try, and give up.
I have nothing left to give.
I don’t think. I just let go.
Darkness reaches out to me, familiar and consistent. Relief fills me, and I reach back, letting its comforting embrace pull me under