Chapter Fifty-Three #2
I strain my arms and legs against the ties, but still my magic sputters uselessly.
Malachi watches me coolly from against the wall. His arms crossed over his chest. His lids lowered.
He taps his foot against the ground.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
There, at the apex of his jaw, a tic—the only flicker of the boy I almost killed on the edge of the mountain.
He doesn’t say a word as he watches me struggle, his chest heaving.
I grind my teeth into the gag as I fail to push my magic out around me. Panic unfurls at my core when, still, I’m bound. Throwing my head back in frustration, I accidentally tip the chair and go careening, the fall knocking the wind out of me.
I crane my neck, sweat slipping into my eyes and hair. Malachi is upside down. Sighing, he kicks off the wall and stalks toward me, squatting behind my head. Even my eyelids tremble as I tamp down the fear coursing through me.
His warm hands sting like the brush of nettles against the delicate skin of my throat, and I wonder briefly if he’s going to strangle me. Then there’s the clink of metal on metal, an intense pressure, a tug, and the heavy thud of a loose iron chain against the dirt.
My magic doesn’t come flooding back. I am not breathless with it. But it is there, right where I left it. I pull it out, coax it toward the binds at my hands and feet. I’m burning up from the inside with effort, though the ties don’t break.
I watch, transfixed, as Malachi swipes a switchblade from the table against the wall and flicks it open.
He releases my feet first, and then my hands.
Scrambling, I kick, turning until I can gain purchase and stand on shaking legs as I back up, ripping the cloth from my mouth. I wipe the sweat from my brow as I spin.
I finally realize what this room reminds me of. I can picture the tunnels from Nora’s journal like I was there myself.
“What the fuck?!” I scream hoarsely as I narrow my eyes at Malachi.
He crosses the room, emotion sloughing off him in waves. I retreat, tripping over my own feet until his hand is on my mouth and he’s slamming me against the wall.
“Shut up,” he hisses, his breath pounding against my face as he holds the back of my head with his other hand. I squirm against him, clawing at his arms, readying my magic.
“Stop it! Do not call your magic right now—they can sense it if they’re close enough!” He peers into my eyes, and I’m struck by how raw his gaze is. “I just—I need to think…”
He pauses, glancing over his shoulder at the door.
His next words are quiet. “Listen, if you want to get out of here, you need to do what I say and be quiet for once in your life.”
I just look at him.
“Okay?” he asks.
I nod.
Slowly he peels his hand back, and I release a quivering breath.
“Why are you helping me?” I whisper, confused about how we’ve suddenly ended up on the same side of this.
His mouth forms a tight line. “I’m not helping you,” he says, his voice woven with malice. “You’re hopeless. But I can’t stomach the thought…”
I flinch. “The thought…?”
“You don’t understand the men you’re up against. And I never wanted you to have to. But you wouldn’t leave. So now here we are, whether we like it or not.” He shakes his head. “I finally had my out. My escape from this once and for all. But you ruined that, too.”
“What are you talking about? What out?”
But then I picture the relief on his face as I filled his lungs with the water from his own blood.
“No,” I grind out. “Tell me you’re lying.”
“I’m lying,” he says. “If that’ll make you move your ass!”
He reaches out to grab my hand, and on instinct, after everything that’s happened, I recoil from his touch. The faintest whisper of hurt flashes across his face. “We need to run,” he insists.
“You wanted to die? Why wait for me to do it? You want out of this so badly, why not let them find us? Why not let them kill us together?”
He stares at the floor, his jaw flexing as he cuts his teeth against his next words. “You know why I can’t do that.”
“Do I? Seems like you were pretty hell-bent on leaving me here to deal with this by myself.”
“You don’t understand!”
“So tell me! Finally! Tell me something true!”
He pushes forward, crowding me, his forehead pressing against my own.
“I am a monster,” he whispers. “Don’t you get that?
” Searing green eyes bore into my own. “Every day since the funeral, since your slap bound us with my mark—every day since, I have done nothing but dream of your death. Every breath I take when I’m near you burns.
And even when I’m not near you, I feel you.
Every pull of your emotion, every uptick in your heart rate.
Everything you are is carved into my soul. Everything you are feels like mine.
“Everything you are is begging me to kill you. To watch your blood spill. To pluck your magic from its stem and let it drip down my face. To finally have your power for my own.”
I slam my hands into his shoulders and push, putting some much-needed space between our heaving chests.
“Even now. Your heart. It flutters like a hummingbird. You’re so scared of me. You’re so scared of everything, and yet you face it. Every. Single. Time.”
My breath catches.
“I didn’t ask to be this way. I don’t want to feel this way about you. I don’t want to be this—this thing I hate! If I don’t die, I will kill you. And I would rather die. I would rather die by your hand than be the one to take your life.”
Somehow his voice gets even deeper. Even lower. Until I have to strain to hear him.
“Do you get it now? Do you understand me? Is that clear enough for you?”
I nod.
“Good. Now let’s go.”
“But—if we escape, what will happen to you?”
I force back my tears, the tension in my throat burning.
Shadows dance behind his eyes. “That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is getting you out of here.”
“Where even are we?” I ask as he snakes his fingers through mine again, both of us shuddering against the intensity of the hunter’s bind.
“You’ll see,” he says, pulling me across the room, stopping at the table full of blades. “Here, take this.” He places the heavy, black dagger in my hand, and something at my core is repulsed by it.
“What the—”
“Come on!” he snarls, tugging on my arm again.
I tuck the knife into my hoodie pocket. I’m still weak, my wrists and ankles ache, I have no idea how much blood they actually took from me, and for a moment I think I might faint. “Ah!” I wince, my knees buckling beneath me.
“We have to hurry! Before he comes back. Are you ready? Can you do this?”
He looks at me full on.
I trace the planes of his face with my eyes, searching for anything but the pure panic that’s etched there—anything to hint that he’s still lying to me. I see nothing.
“I can do it.”
Nodding, he turns, and we take off, curving through the doorway and plunging into a long, damp hallway completely devoid of light.