Chapter 22
Idril
Idon’t know how long I’ve been in this cell.
Hours? Days?
There’s no way to calculate the passage of time. Stone walls surround me. There are no windows, no clock, nothing except restless cycles of sleeping and waking that confuse me more than they help.
I can’t even trust those, though. My concussion makes everything seem fuzzy and disjointed.
You’d think, after years spent confined to the same four walls of my own room as punishment, I’d be used to this. There’s no comfort. No blankets, no books, no food. It may as well be my room at my father’s estate.
I’m terrified, but the fear I feel for myself is a drop in the ocean compared to my fear for Caelan. No one’s returned since dumping me in here like trash left on the curb for pickup. Sounds are muted as well, so I don’t even know if there are others around.
I lay curled on my side, cradling my head on my arm as I run a finger along the cracks in the stone walls.
It’s freezing, and the smell of stale air and sweat permeates my senses. My only reprieve comes when I can no longer fight the pain and exhaustion and fall into unconsciousness.
Sleep is its own kind of punishment. My dreams are full of smoke shadows and suffocating darkness. In them, I’m screaming down an empty cavern that goes on and on forever. I scream and scream until my voice gives out, begging for someone to hear me.
Then I inevitably wake up, soaked in cold sweat, and the entire process repeats itself.
This is the first time I’ve been awake long enough to start piecing things together. I try to be patient, try to be optimistic, and tell myself that Caelan needs his rest and to leave our Bonds alone, but I can’t take it anymore.
I give in and reach out for him.
At first, there’s nothing.
Just that empty void where the thread that connects us should be. I panic, but quickly relax, realizing our Bond isn’t gone. It’s just buried deep.
I squeeze my eyes shut and focus, remembering the few beautiful moments we’ve had together. His hands on my body, his breath on my skin, the sound of his voice when he swore to me that everything was going to be okay.
Finally, I feel it.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I smile.
It feels like a blanket’s been placed over our Bond. That’s the only way I can explain it. I don’t know how to navigate it, but I know instinctively that I can still help him. I can still push my energy and love to him.
Just like before, I gather up everything I am—all my strength, my hope, my love—and push it down the thread.
And hit a wall.
The impact is so jarring that I jolt off the floor, landing painfully on my knees. My limbs flail like I’m being electrocuted.
My teeth snap together and bite into my tongue. Blood fills my mouth, and my moan of pain morphs into a keening Omega whine.
The sharp pain in my head explodes, pounding against the back of my eye sockets until I’m dizzy and nauseous.
What was that?
It felt like being trapped under water, lungs burning as I swim toward the light, only to reach the surface and ram against an impossibly thick barrier of ice.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try again, pushing my energy at him as forcefully as I can. I’m prepared for the wall now, and brace myself before each new attempt to break through. I throw myself at the wall, battering against it with all my might.
Again, again, again.
Caelan, let me in. Please let me in.
By the fifth attempt, I’m panting for breath, sweat dripping down my back despite the cold.
It’s no use.
He’s built a wall of pure onyx between us, preventing me from getting to him.
Tears of frustration and love fill my eyes and pool on my lashes.
How is he doing that?
With no other options, I curl back into a ball, but my mind won’t shut off.
I have so many questions, and I doubt I’ll get answers anytime soon. I know I’ve been brought somewhere with the other vampires—Caelan’s friends, I’ve deduced—but I don’t know where that is.
Then there’s my father. I don’t know where he is, either. The entire night is a chaotic mess of random flashes of memory, then… nothing.
Nothing until I woke up in this room, at least.
I’ve never felt so alone. Even the last two decades spent as a prisoner in my own home, I never felt this alone and dejected.
Eventually, my eyelids grow heavy. I’m halfway between sleep and awake when I hear the soft tread of someone walking right outside my door. Whoever it is stops, then I hear the unmistakable sound of a lock turning.
I freeze.
A lifetime of expecting the worst has taught me to err on the side of caution. So as much as a part of me desperately wants to sit up and see who’s coming into my cell, I stay where I am.
Quiet. Docile. Safe.
It isn’t the heavy tread of a man’s footsteps that step into the room like I thought it’d be. Shockingly, it’s the soft slide of a female. Even stranger is the faint Beta scent of rose water that trails after her.
Cautiously, I turn to face her, and relief rushes through me.
I was right. It’s a Beta. A woman.
She’s short, like me, with hair cut into a no-nonsense bob, and hard eyes that look empty of emotion. She holds a clipboard in one hand, and her pastel scrubs make me think she’s a doctor.
I feel my shoulders drop, my tension easing as hope sparks.
Maybe she’ll listen. Maybe she’ll let me explain—
She stares at me for what feels like an eternity. Then her hard eyes narrow in distaste as she mutters, “I see.”
My hope dies.
I want to ask her what, exactly, it is that she sees, but I don’t. I keep my mouth shut and follow her movements as she walks a slow circuit around my cell.
“Sit up,” she demands.
With shaking arms, I do as she requests, then wrap my arms tightly around my middle. I keep my head down and my mouth closed.
I know the score. She’s a Beta, but she’s also a vampire. I don’t stand a chance.
“So submissive,” she hums, crouching in front of me. My eyes flick over her scrubs, noting the wrinkles. It looks like she’s been wearing them for hours.
“Not going to say anything?”
I shake my head.
“Alright, then. Look up.”
I do, and am instantly accosted by a piercing light shining in my eyes. Slamming my eyes shut, I recoil, a shrill whine of pain slipping past my lips.
Fates, that hurts! Why did she do that? Isn’t she supposed to be a Doctor?
“Well, that answers that question,” she murmurs.
“What question?” I ask, cracking open a single eyelid cautiously. When I don’t see that terrible bright light, I open the other.
“Gavran thought you might be faking a concussion. Can’t fake an Omega whine of pain like that, though.”
Warmth flares to life in my chest.
Not my Bond, but the ember that lives deep behind my ribs. The flame my mother told me stories about. I feel it spark, flaming along with my indignation.
They think I’m faking my injuries? How?
The Beta pulls a pair of surgical gloves from her pocket and snaps them on.
“You are, from what I understand, a lying Omega who used your designation to make Caelan feel sorry enough for you that he went against orders. You then set him up and led him to your father, which resulted in his near-death.”
No.
That’s so, so wrong. If that’s what these people genuinely think of me—
I hiss in pain as her fingers poke and prod the cut on my forehead. “What happened here?”
“I didn’t use my designation to make Caelan come back for me,” I whisper, unwilling to ignore her accusation.
“No?” She doesn’t sound like she cares one way or the other
“I don’t think—” I flinch as she presses harder on my wound. “I don’t think anyone can make Caelan do anything.”
If these are his friends, they should know he wouldn’t come back for me unless he wanted to. I never asked him to come back. He offered.
He promised.
“Oh, so this is his fault, then?” She wrenches my face up so I’m looking at her. One of her hands holds my chin steady, while the other moves a finger back and forth in front of my eyes.
I follow the movement with narrowed eyes, my anger growing higher and hotter. That isn’t what I meant at all. She’s purposely twisting my words.
“It is not his fault. None of this is.”
“I’m aware. Gav and Silas made sure we all understood that you’re solely to blame for the agony Caelan’s experiencing. Do you know it took us forty-five minutes just to stabilize him?”
I shake my head. Of course I didn’t know. No one’s brought me any news at all, despite my repeated questions.
A tear tracks down my cheek. I don’t bother swatting it away.
“Please tell me—” I need to know how Caelan’s doing, but she interrupts me.
“Absolutely not. Why? So you can gloat?”
“No!” I whip my head up in shock, ignoring the pain from the movement.
“You’re lucky they haven’t killed you,” she says. ”The only thing saving you is that Caelan isn’t dead yet. If I were you, I’d hope and pray to whatever gods you believe in that he heals, because I can’t promise you’ll last long if he doesn’t. Lay back.”
Resting an arm under my lower back, she pushes my shoulders, encouraging me to lie flat on the hard ground.
I do as she says, taking the time to gather enough courage to beg for an update on my Mate’s condition.
I just need to make her understand how important it is.
I need to explain what I am to him and how they all have the wrong idea.
“Can I, please—”
“No.”
“I need to tell you something. About Caelan. About—”
“I don’t care.”
“Please, if you would just listen—”
“Whatever sob story you’ve concocted, save it. I’m only here to make sure you don’t die before the Alphas decide to kill you themselves.”
I want to freaking scream. All I want is a chance to tell her, tell someone, about the Bond.
Now that my thoughts aren’t as muddled by my concussion, I can explain better than the very little I remember of the conversation with Gavran and Silas.
I know they misunderstood things I said, and I understand how my words must have sounded, but surely they’ll understand once I explain it.