Chapter 48
Fallon
The first thing I feel is an aching cold gnawing through my skin, clawing into bone. My head swims, thoughts coming together slow and muddy. It’s like my brain has been dipped in syrup. I shiver so hard my teeth clack together. A thin blanket scratches against my skin, stiff from harsh detergent.
Everything is blurry and warped, shadows melting into one another. I blink, my lashes sticking together. Feeling crud in my eye, I go to wipe it away, but something prevents me from raising my arm.
Chains.
Forcing my eyes open, I shudder. I know exactly where I am.
In my father’s dark, concrete subterranean system of cells, where the taste of death lingers in the air.
Over the years, my father punished me down here. Sometimes for days, until I yielded to his rules. Then, I was released, but other prisoners were not as lucky. Most never left this hellhole. And the stench of their long-dead bodies makes me gag.
A biting sting at the crook of my elbow steals my focus. I look around and shiver at the familiar glint of clear tubing.
An IV.
No.
Not again.
My fingers tremble as I reach for the little piece of tape holding it to my skin. I’ve ripped the needle out before and felt alive for a few defiant seconds before the world went white around me.
Just a few tugs and I—
Click.
The sound of a gun freezes me.
Through watery eyes, I see him.
Kosta.
Lounging in a chair outside the bars, legs stretched out, a gun balanced casually in his hand, pointed right at me.
“Don’t touch that IV,” he says, voice raw like the edges of cut glass.
My hand drops.
“Good girl.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “That’s medication. To help you get better from the fall.”
“But…” My voice comes out shredded. “Why is my head fuzzy?”
“We put your meds in there.” He grins. “Get used to it.”
This is how they’re drugging me.
A door cranks open somewhere down the corridor, and I hear the sharp click of heels.
“Mr. Black, it’s about time. I sent for you an hour ago,” a woman’s voice, low and urgent, hisses. “Your daughter has severe hypothermia. She needs a hospital and out of that disgusting cell.”
The woman must be a nurse, and I pray my father respects her medical advice.
“Fallon stays right here,” my father’s voice answers, cold and flat. “Treat her here. If she dies, so do you.”
My breath catches. No, don’t let me die.
The nurse’s mouth snaps shut. She tugs at frayed hair like she’s been here all night. “Yes, Mr. Black.” Her heels click away down the corridor.
“No. Wait.” I squash any further protest when I see my father standing on the other side of the barred door.
Then Rhys appears next to him. My heart stops and starts again in a frantic stutter. Tears nearly explode out of me. He’s still here. He’ll take me home.
He’s silent in his black overcoat, and his eyes are no longer golden like the sun. They’re obsidian.
“Rhys,” I whisper and try to push up, but my arms give out. I sag back into the mattress, the chain at my ankle rattling. “You’re here,” I breathe. “Please take me home.”
His face doesn’t change at my plea. With no smile or warmth, he rasps, “Why is she locked up?”
“She tried to kill herself,” my father replies. “Jumped out the goddamn window. Those chains are for her protection.”
“Let me inside,” Rhys says. “I want to say a proper goodbye.”
No!
“Rhys,” I cry softly.
“Let him,” Kosta drawls, stretching. “I need to take a piss. She’s not going anywhere.” He proudly pokes at my ankle chain through the bars like I’m a prized reindeer.
“You got two minutes to say goodbye, Quinlan,” my father steps aside. “One second more and you’ll be locked in the next cell over.”
“And you can listen to me erase your memory from her head,” Kosta cackles in his ear.
“Don’t worry.” Rhys’s voice is pure ice. “I’m getting the fuck out of here.”
His words not only rip me open, but they’re like salt poured into the wound. I flinch, but the drugs make me slow and syrupy.
A guard punches in a code, and the bars slide open to let Rhys step inside. They clang shut behind him while the guard remains outside.
“Rhys…” Tears burn my throat. “I was trying to get to you. I didn’t try to kill myself. I would never—”
“Shh.” He crouches beside the bed, livid eyes raking over my face and stilling on the bruises on my cheek and lips. “Was that from the fall?” he whispers.
I shake my head, pain stinging, and I can’t help but wince.
“Say goodbye to him,” my father barks from outside the bars.
“No,” I choke. “Rhys can’t leave. It’s Christmas.”
“And Mr. Quinlan’s mother is expecting him,” my father snaps. “Isn’t she, Mr. Quinlan?”
My stomach twists in a slow, sick churn. I want to go with him, but I know it’s useless.
Rhys’s warm fingers brush my cold ones. He flinches like he’s been forced to touch a cold steel pole. Then he straightens, face smooth, eyes empty. “It’s been fun, crazy girl,” he says, scoffing.
My lips tremble, and I bite down hard, trying to stop it, trying anything to hold myself together.
Rhys turns, voice as blunt as an ocean stone. “Have a nice life with Kosta. You’re his mess now.”
The words lance straight through me, destroying any hope I have left.
“Go ahead and leave,” I murmur, my voice shaking with anger. “You’re just like all the rest of the cowards who wouldn’t stand up to my father.”
Rhys stops in his tracks and stares at me. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
“I never liked you anyway. You’re a jerk.” And then I let out a wail to wake the dead to make them think I really am crazy.
But I’m really dying, watching Rhys walk away.
The guard locks the door behind him, and after the clang, the light in my cell goes dim. All I hear is the drip-drip-drip of poison in my veins and the echo of Rhys’s footsteps fading down the hall.
Leaving me behind.