Chapter 18 Breathless
Sharp, throbbing agony at the base of my skull was the first thing I registered. Something—someone—had struck me. I couldn’t remember where I was, what had happened, or why everything hurt.
Then it rushed back in fragments: the hospital, the empty parking lot, my phone with no signal, footsteps behind me followed by the explosion of pain, and then… nothing.
Oh gods.
I tried to move and couldn’t. My wrists were bound tight behind my back. Tape was sealed over my mouth, tasting like old adhesive and dust. The ground beneath me was cold concrete, the air reeking of mildew and rust.
Panic snapped through me like a live wire.
I jerked upright despite the pain, my eyes adjusting to fractured light filtering through broken windows. An abandoned building. Industrial, maybe a warehouse?
Concrete floors with rusted beams and broken windows high on the walls. Second floor, maybe third, high enough that the windows overlooked empty lots and distant streetlights.
Where am I? How long was I out?
“Fun-Size.”
Xavier’s hoarse voice broke the silence.
It sounded wrong, like his throat had been damaged.
He was leaning against a rusted beam, his hoodie damp with sweat, his face blotched red with fever.
His eyes were bloodshot and too bright. His skin had a gray undertone, as if he were rotting from the inside.
But it was his eyes that made my stomach twist.
They caught the thin shafts of light and glowed faint amber, like embers buried in ash. I couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the light or not.
“Fun-Size,” he muttered, twitching as he raked a hand through his greasy hair. “I didn’t want it to come to this. But the doctor… he said if I brought you, the voices would stop. The dreams.” His laugh cracked. “The fire, the blood… it never ends.”
His voice dropped an octave. “She was supposed to be mine in the last war. Mine to protect. Mine to—” He blinked hard, shaking his head. “No. No, I mean… You should have been mine. Back in school, I told everyone, didn’t I? That I was gonna marry you one day. My Bubble Girl.”
Terror clawed up my throat. It sounded like he was slipping between Xavier and someone else. I shook my head furiously, fighting the ropes at my wrists, but they were too tight.
He staggered closer, his pupils so wide they swallowed the color of his irises. “You never got it, did you? I could have taken care of you. If you’d just listened, just been mine like you were supposed to be…”
His gaze traveled over me in a way that made my skin crawl. “Maybe I’ll remind you who you belong to before they come.” A predatory gleam in his eyes. “Claim you the way I should have years ago. Then when they take you—when they do whatever it is they’re gonna do—you’ll still be mine first.”
Terror and rage warred in my chest at the thought of being treated like property to be claimed and passed between owners.
And then I felt my phone, still in my back pocket, miraculously not taken.
Moving carefully, terrified Xavier would notice, I shifted and wriggled until I could edge it free with my bound hands.
The weight of it nearly made me sob with relief.
I fumbled blindly, fingers clumsy and shaking, pressing buttons and swiping desperately.
All I could do was pray that something would work.
My thumb found what felt like the power button. I felt around for the lock button and pressed it repeatedly, hoping the emergency call would go through.
Please, please, someone, answer.
A faint crackle spilled from the speaker. A pause, then a muted voice, too garbled to make out words, but it was someone. I made a desperate sound through the gag, loud as I could, praying they’d hear and understand.
Xavier didn’t notice. He was too far gone, pacing and ranting. “The fire’s always there,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “In the dreams, in the day. The battles never stop. The screaming, the blood. You don’t know what that’s like, Fun-Size, to wake up choking on rage you can’t burn out.”
He lurched toward me, steps uneven but intent, and terror surged like ice through my veins.
I snapped into motion, surging upright and driving my foot hard into his stomach.
The kick landed, and he doubled over with a grunt.
My legs were thankfully free—he hadn’t bothered to tie them, too sick to think clearly.
Another lucky mistake on his part. I scrambled awkwardly to my feet.
“Melanie!” he roared. For the first time, he used my actual name instead of those awful nicknames. Somehow, that was more terrifying than anything else.
I didn’t hesitate as I scrambled to my feet and ran.
My shoes scraped against filthy concrete as I bolted for the doorway. Every step sent pain lancing through my skull. My wrists screamed where the ropes bit into my flesh. My lungs struggled with the limited air through my nose.
But terror was a better motivator than pain.
Behind me, Xavier’s voice rose in a guttural howl that sounded inhuman.
The world spun as I bolted through shadows.
I stumbled through a corridor lined with broken doors, heart hammering so loud I swore he could hear it.
I spotted a stairwell and nearly fell headlong as I hurtled down the steps, half sliding, half scrambling.
My shoulder slammed the railing, pain sparking hot up my arm, but I didn’t stop.
Somewhere above me, Xavier’s laugh cracked, hollow and feverish. “Bubble Girl! I can hear you. You’re always so loud when you run.”
I bit down on a sob, forcing myself lower until I tumbled onto the next floor. The air was heavier here, damp with mold. I ducked behind a pile of broken crates and jagged beams, pressing myself flat.
The phone in my bound hands still made faint sounds. Static, maybe a voice? I couldn’t tell. I needed out of these ropes.
A length of rusted pipe jutted up from the floor near the wall, sharp where it had broken.
I dropped to my knees and twisted, sawing my bound wrists against the edge. The metal scraped my skin raw, blood making my hands slippery. Pain lanced up my arms, but I pressed harder, harder—
The sound of footsteps froze me in place.
“Fun-Size,” Xavier crooned from somewhere close by. “I know you’re here. Don’t be scared.”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from whimpering, continuing to saw at the ropes with desperate, tiny movements. My hands shook so badly I almost lost my grip.
Come on, come on, COME ON—
His shadow loomed across the cracked floorboards as he entered the space, fever-bright eyes sweeping the room.
“You belong with me, Fun-Size.” His voice was softer now, coaxing. “You’ll see. I can protect you. Keep you safe from the fire.”
The rope finally gave, frayed fibers snapping.
My hands were bloody and shaking, but free.
I reached up with trembling fingers and gripped the edge of the tape over my mouth.
The tape ripped away, making my eyes water.
The sound echoed through the space like a gunshot.
I froze, pressing myself against the wall, not breathing, waiting for Xavier to come running.
Seconds passed. Five. Ten. Nothing.
I allowed myself one painful gasping breath, then I scrambled for my phone. The screen was cracked but still lit. The call was still connected, Luz’s name glowing back at me.
Thank the gods.
I didn’t dare make a sound that would draw Xavier. Instead, I pulled up my location and hit send.
Please get help. Please.
“Bubble Girl,” Xavier crooned from the shadows, voice dripping with fever and madness. “You can’t hide from me.”
I bit down on the terror clawing at my throat, staying crouched behind the crates. The sound of his steps grew louder, closer, and then his shadow fell over me.
I bolted, but I didn’t make it far. He lunged, dragging me down until my chest smacked against the floorboards, the impact rattling through my bones. The phone dropped to the floor.
Xavier snatched it up, and realization snapped across his face when he saw Luz’s name on the screen.
“You little bitch,” he hissed, hurling it across the room.
His weight crushed down on me, pressing on my back until my lungs screamed. I couldn’t draw in enough air. Panic swirled. My vision frayed at the edges.
“Stop! Xavier, stop!” I wheezed. “Please—”
But he wasn’t listening. His fevered hands wandered across my waist, shaking and desperate, while he muttered incoherent promises against my ear. His rough palms slid beneath my shirt.
Then a sound of pure concentrated violence as the door across the room blew inward in a flurry of wood splinters.
Kian filled the doorway like an avenging god.
I’d never seen him like this. Not the controlled fighter from the alley or the careful professor. He was brimming with furious rage barely leashed. Shadows writhed around him. His eyes caught the dim light and reflected it in a way that was not quite human.
Xavier didn’t have time to turn his head before Kian was on him.
The impact was brutal. Xavier crashed into a rusted beam hard enough to dent the metal, the sound echoing through the warehouse like a gunshot. The pressure on my lungs vanished, and I rolled aside, gasping for air that wouldn’t come.
Kian crossed the distance in a blur, grabbing Xavier by the front of his hoodie and hauling him upright. One punch, then two, each strike landed with the brutal sound of bone meeting flesh. But it was the shadows that made my oxygen-starved brain struggle to process what I was seeing.
They weren’t just following him; they were responding to him like extensions of his will manifested.
Xavier tried to swing back, but shadows coiled around his wrist mid-swing and yanked it down.
He stumbled, off-balance, and Kian drove a knee into his stomach. Xavier doubled over with a choked gasp.