Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
Charlotte
It isn’t until the piercing clang of the bars punctures the silence Scar leaves behind that I finally manage to turn my head.
I know what I’m about to see.
Theo.
But the sight of him still leaves me shaking with utter relief.
His eyes, red-rimmed, are studying every inch of my face. Pain, fear, and sheer terror stare back at me like a mirror held up.
He’s no longer sitting with a slackened frame. His whole body coiled tight with something that looks like fury and helplessness.
I finally make my way to him with a slow, abating crawl.
My hands are clutching the bars in a tight, grueling grip like I can break them away.
The moment the overhead bulb shines over me, his gaze dips to my chest. More specifically, the torn fabric of my hoodie.
His eyes darken, but there’s something else there, too. I can see him struggling to stay in the moment because I know his imagination is running wild now.
He finally meets my gaze again and his chest jerks on a sharp, ragged exhale. “Charlotte.”
His rough, frayed whisper reaches my ear. And something warm and soft warps around my heart.
But my mind immediately conjures up the sound I heard earlier.
The splintered whisper of a broken man beside us.
‘Delilah…’
The man is unconscious now. It makes me wonder if he’s faking it. If he’s out, then they wouldn’t do that to her. Right? He’s needed conscious. Awake. Enough so he can endure the destruction—right?
For a moment, I wish Theo weren’t awake because every shadow around me feels like a prolusion to the sickening truth of this place.
I can see Theo watching me anxiously. Understanding dawning on him. But neither of us can do anything about it.
“I… I thought…” I whisper, my cracked lips stinging. “I thought you died.”
His eyes fall shut with something heavy. When he opens them again, the pain I see there is almost unbearable. “I w-won’t,” he croaks, wincing when he tries to shake his head. “I won’t d-die on you. I promise.”
It’s almost as if those few words drained every ounce of his strength. His body collapses into the wall with a sigh.
Then suddenly, he’s pulling himself up, grunting sharply.
His hands are now pale—bloodless.
He sits up as best he can, staring at me with a plea in his eyes. “You okay? Did they h-hurt you while I was out?”
The tremble in his voice is disarmingly painful. His gaze is urging me to tell him that I’m fine even if it’s a lie. All while his whole body is bracing for the worst version of the truth.
“I’m fine,” I tell him. Not a lie. “They didn’t hurt me, Theo. Not yet.”
He flinches at the last words.
When the brittle silence stretches, he scans the dimly lit passageway. His gaze drags over every person, every rusted bar, every corner that might hide something worse.
I let him take his time to come to the same conclusion I did a few minutes—hours?—ago.
That there’s nothing here for us to do. Nowhere to run. No one to call.
All we can do is wait.
For destruction or salvation.
My throat tightens at the thought, but I force the words out anyway. “Hellfire being my father,” I whisper, my voice hollow even to my own ears. “It makes more sense now.”
Theo’s jaw ticks. His eyes flicker with something dark and knowing. “Yeah,” he says grimly. “It does.”
I swallow, my fingers tightening around the cold bars. “All of this… me being here.”
“You were always gonna be a target because of that,” he adds in quietly.
There’s no softness to the truth. No cushioning.
I nod numbly, even though the motion makes my head spin.
“I saw you,” I murmur, my voice trembling now despite my efforts. “Back there, in the club yard.”
His gaze sharpens instantly.
“You looked…” My chest caves in, breath stuttering. “You looked dead.” The word breaks out of me like a sob I can’t contain. “I don’t understand how you’re here,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Why they brought you here.”
For a moment, he just watches me. Then his lips tilt into something faint. Something tired. Something that hurts more than anything else. “They didn’t,” he says softly.
My brows knit together.
“Not at first,” he adds, his voice roughening. “But I c-couldn’t let them take you alone.”
The air leaves my lungs in a broken rush.
A soft, helpless sound escapes me before I can stop it. Theo’s expression crumples for a split second.
“I promised you, didn’t I?” he whispers, his voice cracking. He sniffs, blinking hard. “I’ll get you through this—together.”
That does it.
The dam breaks. I sob—silent, shaking, my body folding in on itself as I press my forehead harder against the bars. Every sound gets swallowed by the horror around us anyway, but it doesn’t make it easier.
“W-What if—” I choke out, but the words won’t form. They won’t make it past the terror lodged in my chest.
“Don’t,” he cuts in gently. There’s a sharp grunt as he shifts, pain clearly lancing through him, but he pushes through it. “Don’t think about that,” he murmurs, his voice strained but steady. “Just… look at me.”
My gaze snaps to his instantly.
“Keep looking at me, okay? Always.”
“Yeah?” I whisper, barely holding myself together.
“Whatever happens…” His voice dips, something deeper threading through it now. “You look at me. Only me.”
My breath catches.
“And I will stay,” he adds, his eyes locking onto mine with a ferocity that makes my chest ache. “I promise, baby. I will stay with you through anything.”
There’s something in those words. Something bigger than what he’s saying out loud. Because he knows he can’t stop what’s coming. But he’s promising me something else.
That I won’t be alone.
That he won’t look away.
The silence that follows is suffocating.
My gaze drifts without meaning to, landing on the bloodied dressing wrapped around his abdomen. My stomach twists. “Are you… in pain?” I ask, my voice small.
He smiles. Soft. Gentle. Like we’re not sitting in a nightmare carved out of stone and blood. “No, Charlotte,” he murmurs. “I’m okay.”
It’s a lie. I can hear it. Feel it. See it in the way his breath stutters just a second too long between inhales. How his words slur slightly.
My eyes roam helplessly over him. His arms—strained and shackled. His chest—rising unevenly. His hands—those inked hands, slick with sweat and blood, restrained by cold, unforgiving metal.
The more I look, the tighter something coils in my chest.
Sobs rip through me again, catching in my throat, breaking into small, restrained whimpers I can’t control.
He shifts again. A guttural sound escapes him this time—low, pained, raw.
And that’s when I see it.
His eyes. Red and glossy. Brimming.
My breath hitches when a single tear slips free, carving a lone path down his blood-smeared cheek as sniffles quietly.
“T-Theo…”
He freezes. Completely. Like the world just stops.
I see it then—the moment it lands.
His given name. I guess he didn’t catch it when I said it earlier.
A broken, wet sound leaves him. Half sob, half breath. But his gaze never wavers. Never softens.
If anything, it burns brighter. Fiercer.
“Ah…” He exhales, a shaky breath leaving him. Relief flickers across his face. “You finally said it, huh, baby?” There’s a teasing lilt to his tone.
But his eyes betray him. Because this means something to him. More than it should when we’re both sitting on the edge of something we might not survive.
He’s glad I said his name before the war swallows us whole.
“Peanut butter,” he says suddenly, voice still tight. “Jam. Uh… mussels?”
I stare at him like he’s lost his mind. But then I realize what he’s saying. Or rather… asking.
“What did they d-do to you?” He coughs out a strained laugh.
I watch him struggle to keep his grin up. A boyish one that once irritated the hell out of me.
Right now, I wish it weren’t this wobbly or pained.
“They did nothing,” I croak, voice thick with tears. “You did.”
“Aw, Charlotte,” he says as he wipes his tears on his arm—sniffling. “I’m sorry. Remind me w-what I did?”
My lip trembles as I notice his frail grin slip away briefly. Then it’s back again—weaker.
“You… you stocked my kitchen,” I whisper, but my tone fails to sound accusatory.
His smile widens, lips cracking. “I stalked you, too. Still m-mad about that?”
I press my lips together, my chin scrunching as I fight the urge to break apart all over again. Then I shake my head—jerky, uneven.
Have I forgiven him?
I don’t know.
Am I mad right at this moment?
No, I’m not.
The realization settles heavy in my chest. Quiet. Somber.
Theo’s shoulders loosen just a fraction. His smile softens, relief flickering through the pain etched into his face.
But it doesn’t erase the terror beneath it. Nothing can.
Then—a sound.
Distant at first.
A ripple.
Gasps. Whimpers. Chains shifting. Bodies tensing.
My head snaps to the side as the energy around us changes. The men and women in the neighboring cells stiffen—some shrinking into themselves, others trembling violently.
Fear. Raw. Immediate. All-consuming.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Heels.
Sharp against stone.
The sound cuts through the space like a blade.
A few of them relax. Not fully. Never fully. But enough that confusion knots in my chest.
The passageway is dim. The weak bulbs only illuminate the cells where the women are caged. Everything beyond that remains swallowed in shadow.
So I don’t see her clearly. Not until she’s close.
A figure draped in red. Fabric clinging to her body—revealing, deliberate.
Her suede heels catch the light as she steps forward.
Theo stiffens, trying to tilt his head to get a better look.
She stops right in front of him.
And that’s when I see it.
The syringe in her hand.
“Theo,” I yelp softly, panic clawing up my throat.
His head snaps toward me immediately.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, shaking his head even as his chest heaves. Even now—like this—he’s trying to steady me. “It’s okay, baby.”
The woman crouches in front of him. Her face is hidden behind a curtain of dirty blonde hair. I can’t see her expression. Can’t read her.
Theo jerks against the shackles, metal clanking harshly as he tries to pull away.
She just hums. Soft. Almost soothing. “Shhh… shh… shh…”
“No,” I whimper, the word tearing out of me. But it’s too late.
In one swift motion, she drives the needle into his neck.
My heart stops. “Theo—!”
“Charlotte,” he whispers, his voice already slipping. His eyes drooping, fighting to stay open. “I… I love you, okay? I love you.”
My chest caves in. “No—no, Theo, no.”
His head lolls forward. Resting against his chest. His entire body goes slack.
A silent scream rips through me as I slam my hands against the bars. Over and over. My throat too wrecked to let anything out.
The woman stands slowly, like she has all the time in the world. Then she gestures behind her.
Another figure steps forward.
A small girl. Petite. Quick. Efficient.
She moves straight to Theo—hands already tugging at the bloodied dressing on his abdomen.
“S-stop!” I rasp, my voice breaking apart. My body trembles violently as I watch.
But then I see it.
A kit.
Clean gauze. Fresh wraps.
My breath shudders out of me in a broken exhale. Relief. Fragile. Temporary. But enough to keep me from completely unraveling.
The woman finally turns.
She is pale. Unnaturally so. Like she hasn’t seen the sun in ages.
She looks young. Around my age.
Something about that is deeply, deeply wrong.
She reaches to the side of my cell, fingers brushing against something I hadn’t noticed before.
A small tag, tucked just out of my immediate view.
She lifts it, eyes scanning whatever’s written there. “Double princess,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Her voice is soft. Smooth. Almost enchanting.
My stomach twists.
She crouches in front of me now. Close enough that she’s within arm’s reach. But she doesn’t seem concerned.
Her face is calm. Serene even. There’s something almost gentle in her gaze.
“I’m Mistress,” she says quietly. “What’s your name?”
Mistress. The word sends a chill down my spine.
My mind stutters. Does the card not say it? My name?
“Cha—Charlotte,” I manage.
She nods slowly. Pensive yet calm.
“Who’s your father?” she asks. “It says you’re a double princess.”
My throat tightens. There’s no safe answer. No right answer.
My eyes flick to Theo. He’s still slumped forward, unmoving, while the girl works silently on his wounds.
Then I look back at her. “Depends,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
Her head tilts slightly. “On?”
A shiver crawls up my spine. “Why you want to know.”
She frowns faintly. “Based on the cut your man is wearing,” she says calmly, “you’re a Wardens princess. He’s clearly not your brother.” Her gaze flickers briefly to Theo. “…based on what he just told you.”
My stomach drops.
“So is Savage your father?” She’s piecing it together. Too much. Too quickly.
I shake my head.
“It’ll be easier if you just tell me, Charlotte.”
My breathing picks up. I don’t know what she wants. I don’t know what she’ll do with the information.
But what does it change? Nothing.
“H-Hell’s Army’s president,” I whisper. “Hellfire. Although, I didn’t know. Not until a few minutes ago.”
She doesn’t react. Not even a flicker. “And Wardens?” she continues. “You’re their president’s sister then?”
I nod.
The thought of my brother steadies me in a way nothing else has. And this feeling is entirely strange to me.
He’ll come. He has to.
“Wolf…” She pauses, like the name feels strange to her. “Is your brother?”
This time, there’s something in her eyes.
A flicker. Disbelief.
But I don’t dwell on it.
I nod again.
Her jaw tightens as she squares her shoulders. “Your card says,” she continues slowly, “that you have a cuck.” Her gaze slides briefly to Theo. “And an attendee.”
The word lands like a punch to my gut. A what?
My vision blurs.
“That’d be Wolf, Charlotte,” she adds softly.
“No.” My head shakes violently. “N-No! What? He… he’ll—no!” The words tangle together, useless and broken.
“You think your brother will come and save you instead of getting trapped here like you?”
I nod jerkily. Desperate. Yes, he will.
Her eyes soften. Surprisingly, I see something there I hadn’t expected.
Sadness.
“Are you sure?” she asks quietly. “Your brother, Wolf… will come for you?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “He will.”
She looks down for a moment. Like she’s thinking or remembering something.
“I hope,” she murmurs finally, her voice barely above a breath, “for your sake, you’re right. I hope he finds you, Charlotte.”
Then she stands, turns, and walks away. The girl follows without a word.
Now I’m alone again.
Waiting for Theo to wake up.