Chapter Fourteen
BELLAMY - FIVE MINUTES EARLIER
Imentally curse myself for being an idiot and allowing her to capture me, but the thought of letting Francesca leave without me was untenable.
Because I let my emotions get the best of me, I now find myself battling for my life.
I deserve that for allowing myself to be swayed by a pretty face and tragic eyes.
Straps dig into my flesh, and the lack of oxygen slows my reaction time. When her claws inch ever closer to my throat, I’m helpless to do anything to defend myself. I use all my strength to break the bolts on the seat. Two have already snapped—only two more to go.
My thighs scream under the strain. Just as another bolt snaps, my feet punch through the plastic of the dash with a crunch, stealing my only chance of escape.
My arms strain as I reach for the straps, but the stupid fucking chains keep me locked down tight, preventing me from defending myself. I wore the chains often enough in my youth that I know escape is futile.
The metal was created to zap my strength, leaving me feeling as weak as a human.
I’m helpless to do anything as my vision begins to dim.
I knew I’d eventually die wearing the chains, I just thought I would be alone in the dungeons of Kyperian when that happened.
At least I had a tiny taste of freedom before my life was taken.
Just as my lungs protest the lack of oxygen, Francesca calmly reaches out with claws that could easily slice my throat and end my existence.
Instead, she shows compassion and shreds the fabric wrapped around my throat.
I flop forward, half in shock, half because the pressure holding me disappeared so suddenly.
I greedily suck in air, hacking and coughing as my body protests the abuse, and my mind reels.
She saved me.
Why?
It would make more sense for her to kill me and rid herself of the problem. If the situation were reversed, I’m not sure I would’ve done the same, and an uneasy sensation bubbles in my chest.
I twist, resting my spine against the door to keep the fuckers from coming after me again. I want to call them cowards for attacking me when my back was turned, but it was my own fault. My anger at learning of Givvens’ death has been festering for months.
Justice was within my grasp, and I got careless.
I wanted to hear her admit her guilt out loud.
I needed to know why she turned on him.
At her confession of innocence, I’m not sure what to believe.
I don’t trust the council. Their values have become so twisted through the decades that I’m not sure they recognize the difference between the truth and a lie anymore.
Any moral compass they possessed was destroyed long ago.
The corrupt assholes will do whatever it takes to remain in power.
Lie, cheat, kill—they’ve done it all.
But I read the reports from the Orion who were present.
I talked to them, listened to their firsthand accounts of how she mortally wounded Givvens when he tried to take her into custody, how she ruthlessly tore through a squad of Orion who tried to save him.
I no longer know what to believe.
The suffocating grief she carries is very real, the scent of her pain impossible to fake, but that would mean my fellow Orion—men I worked with for decades—lied to me.
It makes no sense, and I don’t like the mystery.
As I mentally recall the reports, pain spikes in my brain, my skull feeling like someone is trying to remove my eyes with a rusty spoon. The harder I push, the more the sensation spreads until I swear I can feel something wiggling in my brain.
It’s such an unsettling sensation, a shiver of revulsion goes down my spine, and I back off.
Someone tampered with my memories.
What secrets do I know that would cause them to go through the effort of hiding the information from me? The possibility that she wasn’t guilty never crossed my mind, which is suspicious in itself.
Who the fuck messed with my head and when?
I wish I could say this changes things, but it doesn’t matter what I think. I have no choice but to return her to face the council. No matter how much I fight their commands, I’m helpless to resist, thanks to the magical bindings all Orion are forced to endure.
Those who fight the commands die painfully, magic slowly breaking their minds.
If she were guilty, why would she show me compassion and save me?
I struggle to process her benevolence. It would make more sense for her to kill me, ridding herself of the problem. Honestly, I find her mercy deeply troublesome.
Hunched over, I reach up to rub the bruises along my throat, feeling a trickle of blood run down my neck from where her claws nicked me.
Then my hands slow.
I’m touching bare skin.
My brain stutters as it processes the information, disbelief holding me immobile, then my fingers gingerly touch my neck again, searching for the necklace the council uses like a shock collar.
It’s gone.
Much like a dog that has been chained too long, my first thought is sheer panic. If the council discovers that it has been removed, I’m as good as dead.
My neck feels naked without it.
Exposed.
Then their conditioning cracks, panic slowly giving way to awe.
I’m…free?
I’ve spent so many decades as a prisoner that I’m at a loss for what being free actually means.
I recognize that I’m in shock. I expect my dragon to take over and shift, desperate for revenge, but the beast is still and quiet, almost afraid to draw attention to himself.
We’ve had a master for so long that neither of us knows how to react to this new revelation.
It’s been years since we stopped dreaming.
When did we give up and cease fighting?
Even with my mind in turmoil, I don’t allow a hint of emotion to show.
Shifters are notorious for sniffing out weaknesses, and I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself.
When I shift my foot, I spy the tarnished golden necklace coiled on the floor, and I stare at it like a Naga ready to strike.
The collars were designed to be tamperproof. Anyone who tries to remove them is shocked mercilessly. After two attempts to remove the collar, you don’t get a third chance. The metal will heat to such a degree that it will melt into your skin and basically behead you in under a minute.
I’ve seen it happen firsthand.
What should be a quick death is stretched so you feel every inch of your head being removed.
It’s a gruesome end.
So how the hell was she able to remove it without even trying?
More and more suspicions pile up in my head, leaving me to conclude that the necklace was preventing me from sensing any gaps in my memories.
My brain feels a bit like a black hole.
It would also explain why I couldn’t sense the block in my mind before now.
It was another way for them to keep me under their heel.
Not wanting to reveal anything has changed, I force myself to retrieve the necklace and shove it into my pocket. Some part of me expected my touch might activate it again, and I would find it looped around my neck once more.
Evil radiates from the metal, a certain malevolence that makes my skin crawl, and I curl my hands into fists to resist the urge to toss the necklace out the window.
I have no doubt the council is aware that I no longer bear their mark. The question is, will they know that I’m now free, or will they assume I’m dead?
Worse, what if there is a tracking spell on it that will lead them right to me?
I refuse to go back, not now that I’m free after so long.
Though the necklace weighs no more than a feather, my whole body feels like a great weight has been lifted from me…well, if I ignore the chains currently wrapped around my torso.
Funnily enough, I don’t mind wearing them, content to spend more time around the girl. Something tells me she is the key to my past and my one chance to destroy the council.
I won’t let the opportunity slip through my fingers.
So I keep my fucking mouth shut and just watch. I’ve spotted Francesca a few times over the months, studying her intently. I probably should’ve snatched her up sooner, but I held back, obsessed with watching her.
Now, I suspect that my dragon was trying to tell me something.
The silence in the car is stifling, but I don’t mind it, smug that I’m exempt from Francesca’s ire. The guys take turns glaring at me and moping, not that I blame them. I would fight tooth and claw for the chance to remain at her side.
Honestly, I don’t even fault the fox for trying to kill me.
I would’ve done the same in a heartbeat.
Givvens taught the Orion to never let an opportunity pass to take out your opponent. It can mean the difference between life and death. There is no honor in war, only survival.
Though Francesca must have learned the same lessons…she freed me.
Why?
Does she plan to use me later?
Maybe I should feel resentful, but my dragon puffs up in my chest at the thought, smoke leaking from my nostrils, like he’s eager to do her bidding. It should annoy me. My dragon has no master. Instead, something in my mind eases at knowing that he will protect her…even from me.
The silence stretches for nearly an hour, the hum of static in the air letting me know the guys are mentally discussing different scenarios that might convince Francesca not to kick them out of her life.
I observe them carefully and begrudgingly acknowledge that they are strong shifters—maybe not as strong as the Orion, but that could change with training.
Something tells me that war is on the horizon, and Francesca is in the middle of it.
She’s going to need all the help she can get.
Mentally rolling my eyes at myself, I sigh, then focus on Francesca…not that I’ve really let her out of my sight since laying eyes on her earlier this evening. Just being this close to her is soothing in a way that makes me shift uncomfortably.