Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
CILLIAN
I keep my breathing shallow and irregular, mimicking the unconscious pattern I hope the Inquisitor expects. Each measured breath is agony—not from physical pain, though that tears through my body in waves, but from the effort of maintaining this deception while Maya puts herself at risk.
The bond between us isn’t completely severed, but something close to it. Where once I felt her presence like a warm current beneath my consciousness, now there’s only echoing silence. The emptiness is devastating, like losing a limb I never knew I needed until it was gone.
But I can still see her through half-closed eyelids, pressed against the bars of her cage as she draws Thane’s attention with that sultry voice. The torn fabric of her wedding dress reveals too much skin, and the predatory gleam in the doctor’s eyes makes my stomach turn.
She’s risking everything to give me this chance.
I just have to hope we know each other well enough for her to sense what I’m planning.
The restraints around my wrists are tight but not impossible.
Medical-grade leather designed to hold struggling patients, not trained warriors.
The Inquisitor underestimated me—probably because he sees only another Omega to be dissected rather than someone who’s spent years learning to kill with improvised weapons.
His voice carries across the sterile room as he responds to Maya’s seduction. “Such a clever little thing. Do you truly believe you can manipulate me as easily as those palace Alphas?”
Maya’s laugh is honey and poison. “I manipulated you once before, didn’t I? Escaped your perfect little laboratory.”
The sound of his footsteps approaches her cage. Perfect. Let him focus entirely on her while I work.
I tested the restraints earlier, when genuine agony from his procedures made my struggles look authentic. The leather gives slightly under pressure—old enough to have loosened with use. My left wrist has slightly more give than my right, plus it isn’t my dominant one
What’s a little more pain when every cell is already in agony?
The Inquisitor’s breathing grows heavier as he reaches Maya’s cage. “You’re offering yourself to save him? How touching.”
“I’m offering myself because I finally understand what I am,” Maya purrs. “What you made me. Your creation.”
Her words send a chill down my spine, but they’re working. I can hear the hunger in Thane’s voice as he responds, completely focused on his prize.
This is my moment.
Pain explodes through my left wrist as I deliberately hyperextend it, feeling the small bones shift and crack. I bite down hard on my tongue to keep from making any sound, tasting blood as tears spring to my eyes. But the joint compresses just enough…
My hand slides free.
The relief is immediate, followed by a fresh wave of agony as blood rushes back into my compressed fingers. I keep my arm positioned exactly as it was, fighting every instinct to cradle my injured wrist against my chest.
“That’s it,” Maya coos to the Inquisitor. “I’ve been such a fool, fighting what I was always meant to be.”
I carefully flex my freed hand, working feeling back into the deadened fingers. The monitors attached to my chest continue their steady beeping—I need to keep my heart rate controlled or the machines will give me away.
Through slitted eyes, I watch as Thane approaches Maya’s cage like a moth drawn to flame. His clinical detachment is cracking, replaced by the same possessive hunger I’ve seen in Logan’s eyes.
“You escaped me once,” he murmurs, close enough to her cage that I can see his fingers gripping the bars. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“You won’t need to,” Maya whispers. “I understand now. I belong to you. I always have.”
The words are like acid in my ears, but I know she’s lying. I can’t feel her through our severed bond, but I know Maya well enough to recognize the steel beneath her silk voice. She’s buying me time, giving me the opening I need.
Now I just have to not waste it.
I draw on the last reserves of my strength, the pain from my injuries falling away as pure desperation takes over. Maya’s sultry voice continues drawing Thane closer to her cage, his breathing growing heavier with each word she speaks. This is it—my only chance.
I explode from the table with everything I have left, my injured wrist screaming in protest as I launch myself at the Inquisitor’s back. The monitors attached to my chest tear free with sharp pops, wires snapping as I throw my full weight into the attack.
Thane spins at the last second, his eyes widening in shock as he realizes I’m no longer unconscious. My tackle catches him around the waist, driving both of us to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The concrete floor rushes up to meet us, the impact driving the air from my lungs.
“Impossible,” he gasps, struggling beneath me. “The sedatives should have?—“
I drive my elbow into his solar plexus, cutting off his words.
Years of combat training take over, muscle memory guiding my movements even as my vision blurs from exhaustion and blood loss.
I’m operating on pure adrenaline now, the knowledge that Maya’s life depends on this the only thing keeping me conscious.
But Thane is stronger than his slight frame suggests.
He bucks beneath me, rolling us both across the lab floor.
Glass vials and medical instruments scatter, the sharp sound of breaking equipment filling the sterile air.
I grapple for control, trying to pin him down, but my injured wrist collapses when I put weight on it.
Thane takes advantage, flipping our positions with surprising agility. Suddenly he’s on top, his hands closing around my throat with crushing force. His clinical mask has slipped completely, revealing the savage satisfaction beneath.
“Pathetic,” he snarls, pressing down harder. “Did you really think you could overpower me? A broken, tortured Omega against a trained professional?”
Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as his grip tightens. My lungs burn, desperate for air that won’t come. I claw at his hands with my good arm, but he’s positioned himself too well. My strength is fading fast, blood loss and trauma finally taking their toll.
Maya’s screams reach me dimly through the roaring in my ears. She’s rattling her cage, desperate to reach us, but the bars hold firm.
“Cillian! Fight him! Please!”
Her voice grows more distant as my vision tunnels. Darkness creeps in from all sides, and I feel my body going limp despite my desperate efforts to resist. My last coherent thought isn’t of Logan or the bond that’s brought me so much pain.
It’s of Maya. Maya, who never deserved any of this. Who was brave enough to sacrifice herself for others even when no one had ever done the same for her. Maya, who should have been free to choose her own path instead of being trapped in this nightmare of royal politics and forced bonds.
I’m sorry I couldn’t save you , I think as consciousness slips away. You deserved so much better than all of us.
The pressure around my throat suddenly vanishes.
Air rushes back into my lungs in a painful gasp, and I blink rapidly, trying to clear my fading vision. Thane is still above me, but something has changed. His eyes are wide with shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
That’s when I see it—the scalpel protruding from his neck, buried to the hilt just below his jaw. Blood spurts around the blade in rhythmic pulses, matching the frantic beat of his heart as it realizes death is imminent.
My gaze snaps to Maya’s cage, where she stands pressed against the bars, her arm extended through the gap between them. She must have grabbed the scalpel when Thane got close enough, stabbing through the bars with deadly precision.
“Help me find the keys,” she says urgently, her voice cutting through my shocked stupor. “Before someone comes looking for him.”
I try to respond, to move, to do anything useful, but the world tilts sideways as consciousness finally abandons me completely.
The last thing I see is Maya’s desperate face pressed against the bars, still trying to save us both even as darkness claims me.
T he world comes back in fragments…
Cold concrete against my cheek.
The acrid smell of antiseptic mixed with blood.
A rhythmic scraping sound that sets my teeth on edge.
I force my eyes open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights. My vision swims for a moment before focusing on Maya’s purple hair as she drags me down a sterile white hallway. She’s pulling me on what looks like a surgical sheet, my dead weight making her progress slow and laborious.
An alarm blares overhead, the sound echoing off the walls in sharp, repetitive bursts that drill into my skull. Red emergency lights flash at regular intervals, casting everything in an ominous crimson glow.
I try to speak, but only a rasp emerges from my throat. The effort sends fresh pain racing through my chest where bandages cover what I can only assume are surgical incisions. When did she have time to…
“Maya,” I manage, the word barely audible over the blaring alarm.
She stops immediately, dropping the edge of the sheet to spin around. Relief floods her face when she sees my open eyes.
“Thank fuck,” she breathes, falling to her knees beside me. “I thought you were never going to wake up. I thought I was going to die down here by myself.”
Her arms wrap around my shoulders in a fierce embrace that makes me gasp with pain. But I don’t pull away. The solid warmth of her body, the familiar scent of strawberries and champagne now mixed with fear-sweat and something metallic, grounds me in a way the bond no longer can.
“How long was I out?” I ask, my voice still rough.
“Hours, I think. Maybe longer.” She pulls back to study my face, her hands gentle as they check for injuries. “I bandaged up the worst of what he did to you, but I’m no medic.”