24 Five Months
Idon’t know how long I’ve been here.
Days. Weeks. Months. Time dissolved somewhere between the hunger and the darkness. It feels like an eternity wrapped in bruises.
Jace used to come every few days.
He wouldn’t speak. He wouldn’t touch me.
He’d just stand there while Gideon’s men did whatever they wanted.
I hate him for it.
I hate the sight of him.
I hate that part of me still remembers what his voice sounds like when he says my name.
To survive, I think of Maeve. I picture her safe—laughing maybe, yelling at someone, refusing to let the world break her. I hope Felix and Kellan are still guarding her. I hope Noah and Luca are piecing everything together, that they know I didn’t just disappear.
I think of my dad, too. I cling to the idea that he’ll eventually see through Gideon’s games and come for me again. But hope has its own teeth.
I’m reminded that the longer I hold it, the more it hurts. Memories hurt. Thoughts hurt. Even breathing hurts.
I’m always dizzy. The room spins even when I’m still.
My stomach rejects more food than it accepts.
They don’t bother chaining me anymore—my body is its own cage.
All I can do is lie here and wait for whatever comes next.
Some nights, I pray to get out.
Other nights, I pray to stop existing. For my body to just give out. To let everything go black and finally rest. Feel nothing. Think nothing.
But the universe is cruel.
I keep waking up.
Gideon’s been here more lately.
One night, he stormed in raging—shouting in my face, striking me again and again.
I don’t even know what set him off. His words smashed against my skull but never made sense.
The next day—maybe the next hour, I can’t tell—someone came in. Cold hands. A prick in my arm.
When I wake again, my vision is clearer.
My mind… sharper. My body is still weak, but the fog lifts just enough for me to recognize an IV has been set up,
But clarity never lasts long here.
Gideon returns. More yelling. More blows. Another IV bag.
Then again. And again. As if he wants me conscious just to watch me break.
And in one of those thin, cruel moments of lucidity, I finally understand what he’s so furious about.
Jace.
He rants about how I “ruined” his son. How Jace has become ungrateful, uncontrollable.
But Jace is the reason I’m here.
My thoughts are like pulling at loose threads. Some just fall right out and are gone. Others are more entangled.
I don’t have the strength to pull on them.
But I know one thing with painful certainty: Whatever Jace is doing out there…it’s driving Gideon mad in here.
Something wakes me.
I close my eyes again and focus on listening. A distant pop. Then another. That was a gunshot. Multiple gunshots.
For a second, I think I’m dreaming. My brain has tricked me before, heard voices that weren’t there.
But some sort of explosion rattles the walls, small debris falls from above and lands on my sensitive skin.
My eyes fly open.
This is not a dream.
I hear the heavy metal door being opened, Butch cursing as heavy boots move down the stairs.
I can hear more voices now, more gunfire. They float down from the door.
My heart lurches painfully, like it’s trying to claw its way out of my chest.
Butch is beside me, breathing hard. “Help me get her up!” he snaps over his shoulder.
Delaine is grabbing me by the arm so hard I gasp. I didn’t even see them come in. I try to resist, but it's futile.
I can’t even hold myself up.
As they pull me up, my legs fold beneath me. Delaine swears.
“Fuck, she’s useless,” he says, trying to haul me upright.
The room tilts. My vision swims. I’m upside down. We’re moving.
I try to find my voice but all that comes out is a rasp. “Please—don’t—”
Delaine slaps me. “Shut up. We’re not dying because of you.”
The hallway is chaos.
The sound of gunfire is so loud it punches through my skull. I feel like there’s a bullet ricocheting around in there. There’s yelling all around me. Doors slamming, boots pounding. Magazines falling to the floor.
What is happening?
“Gideon said transport should be waiting for us.”
My stomach twists. My throat closes. They’re here for me. Whoever “they” are.
I try to kick to get free. I can’t let them take me to the transport, wherever it is. Someone’s here for me. I’d rather be anywhere than here. My sudden movement causes Delaine to drop me.
I hit the ground and pain shoots through my body. Sirens are blaring, smoke creeping under the ceiling lights.
“Pick her up!” Butch demands.
“You pick her up! She’s like dead weight!” Delaine grunts, trying to lift me again.
My head lolls back.
Everything feels far away. Like I’m underwater. I’m trying to stay conscious, but my eyelids are heavy. I’m fighting the dark but it’s a weight tied to my ankles, pulling me under.
“STOP!”
I’m dropped to the ground again as Butch and Delaine are shooting behind us. They grab my arms, dragging me along. I hear them muttering curses.
Hope blooms again in my chest. Someone’s trying to get me away from them.
It sounded like...
But something inside me screams not to believe it.
Not to hope.
Hope hurts.
The shots beside me are deafening.
I think I’m against a wall? I try to open my eyes again, but my lids are glued shut and weighted down. I will for my limbs to move. To crawl away from them. Anything.
But nothing happens.
Darkness tugs at me once more, ready to pull me under.
“Isobel? Isobel?!” The voice is distant but familiar.
Who…