Chapter 5
Ryven
Hours crawl by as we wait for news of Joey. Did he make it out alive? Did he escape? I pace frantically back and forth in my dorm. He could’ve made it. He could’ve.
But even as the thought forms, it dies just as fast. There’s no way he got away from all of those troops. And the dogs… oh fuck. Not the dogs. No one ever gets away from them.
Shouting comes from outside, and my heart lurches into my throat as I step outside, the noise hitting me all at once. The troops are back. Dogs are barking ferociously. There is no doubt in my mind now. They found him.
A person flails in a sack being dragged behind a four-wheeler into the center of the field. Fuck.
I push my way toward the front of the gathering crowd, shoulders slamming into bodies that don’t move fast enough. I don’t care who I hit. I don’t care who notices. I just need to see him.
They rip the sack open. Joey’s head snaps up as the fabric is yanked away, his chest heaving and his face is streaked with dirt and blood. His eyes find mine instantly and they widen in terror. He knows what is about to happen to him.
“No,” I choke. My voice barely makes it out. “No… no, this isn’t—”
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to him. Not like this.
They strap him to the altar before tying his limbs and neck down.
I move before I can think. I drop to my knees beside the table, hands out in front of me like that will somehow change something. “Take me.” I say, the words ripping out of me. “Take me instead of him.”
The leader Cedric looks down at me with pity. “It is not your time, young one. He is not yet ready to see you.”
My head snaps up. “No–” Hands grab me before I can finish, dragging me back toward the crowd.
My boots drag against the dirt as I fight against their grip, my body twisting and jerking to find any way back to him.
“Let me go!” I shout. “Take me instead–take me!” But my pleads fall on deaf ears as rough fingers dig into my jaw and force my head forward.
The man leans in close to my ear, his voice like gravel. “This is what happens when you're weak,” he mutters. “Now watch.”
And I do.
Joey’s screams tear through the air, raw and broken, each one worse than the last. I try not to hear it.
I try not to focus on the way his body jerks against the restraint every time the blade cuts his skin.
I squeeze my eyes shut when his screams start to fade into something that doesn’t even sound human anymore.
A scream tears through me as the last cut is made and the knife is plunged into his heart, stopping it. The two men holding me, release my arms, and I fall to the ground in agony.
“No,” a whisper leaves my lips. A soft plea to whoever is listening to change this. To make time reverse and bring him back. Take me instead. Please. I can’t let Rory down.