A chill ran through Newt that had nothing to do with the cold metal beneath him. This was the place where someone had methodically tried to break his mate. Where Vaughn had suffered pain so intense it still haunted him months later. And now, by some twisted magic, they were both here.
“We need to get out.” Newt pulled against the restraints again, metal cutting into his wrists. Blood trickled down his arm, warm and sticky. His wings pressed painfully against his back, trapped between his body and the metal rack. If they tore…
Vaughn worked frantically at the restraints, muscles straining as he tried to pry them open with brute force. His face contorted with the effort, veins standing out on his neck and forearms. The cuffs didn’t budge.
“There has to be a key,” Vaughn muttered, eyes scanning the dimly lit room.
Ancient stone walls surrounded them, slick with moisture and something darker that Newt didn’t want to identify. A single torch cast dancing shadows that seemed to reach for them with malicious intent.
Against one wall stood a table covered with implements that made Newt’s stomach lurch—knives, whips, and things whose purpose he couldn’t begin to guess. His throat closed at the thought of these tools being used on Vaughn.
“I’ll get you out of here,” Vaughn promised, voice tight with determination as he searched the room. “I swear.”
Newt tried to calm his racing heart, to think logically. His magic. Maybe he could use it to free himself. He closed his eyes, focusing his energy on the restraints. Words of unlocking and freedom formed on his lips, fae words meant to break bonds.
Nothing happened. Not even a flicker of his usual purple glow.
“My magic isn’t working,” he said, voice rising with panic. “I can’t feel it at all.”
Vaughn grabbed a rusty metal rod from the corner, jamming it between the cuff and the frame, trying to use it as a lever. Muscles bulged as he applied pressure, teeth gritted with effort. The rod bent then snapped, sending Vaughn stumbling backward.
“Damn it!” He hurled the useless piece of metal across the room. It clattered against the stone wall, the sound echoing ominously through the chamber.
Newt watched as Vaughn patted his pockets frantically. “Phone’s gone,” he growled. “Goddamn it.”
The reality of their situation crashed down on Newt with crushing weight. They were trapped in a demon’s torture chamber, cut off from help, with Newt immobilized and Vaughn rapidly unraveling in the place that haunted his nightmares. And it was all Newt’s fault.
If he hadn’t tried to leave, if he hadn’t stormed off in childish anger, they wouldn’t be here now.
“I’m sorry,” Newt whispered, tears welling in his eyes. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t left you this morning—”
“Don’t,” Vaughn cut him off, returning to the restraints. He wrapped his hands around the metal cuff on Newt’s right wrist and pulled with everything he had. Veins bulged in his forearms, his face reddening with effort. The metal groaned but held fast.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Newt continued, needing to say it while he still could. “I was scared, and I thought I was protecting you, but I was wrong.”
Vaughn abandoned the cuffs and moved to cup Newt’s face between his palms. His touch was surprisingly gentle for hands that had just been straining against metal.
“I forgive you,” he said, eyes locked on Newt’s. “We’re going to get out of this.”
Newt knew it wasn’t true. Not the forgiveness and maybe not the escape either. The pain was too fresh, the betrayal too recent. Vaughn was saying what needed to be said because they might not get another chance.
“I don’t want to marry anyone,” Newt blurted out, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I don’t care what my father wants or what the law says. You’re my mate. Only you.”
Vaughn’s expression softened for a moment, thumb brushing away a tear from Newt’s cheek. Then his head snapped up, attention caught by something beyond Newt’s field of vision. His face hardened, muscles tensing as if preparing for a fight.
“We don’t have much time,” he muttered, returning to the restraints with renewed urgency. “He'll be coming soon.”
The words sent ice through Newt’s veins. He didn’t need to ask who “he” was. Vex. The demon who had methodically taken Vaughn apart, who had shown him pain unlike anything he’d felt before.
And now they were trapped in his playground, with Newt helpless and Vaughn fighting ghosts as well as metal.
“Try your wolf,” Newt suggested desperately. “Can you shift?”
Vaughn closed his eyes, concentrating. His body trembled with effort, but nothing happened. “Can’t,” he gasped. “Same as before. The place is warded.”
Newt strained against the restraints again, ignoring the pain as metal dug deeper into his wrists. Blood trickled down his arms, dripping onto the metal beneath him. Each drop made a tiny sound, counting down moments they didn’t have.
Vaughn moved frantically around the room, searching for anything that might help. He overturned the small table of torture implements, scattering them across the stone floor with a cacophony of metallic clangs. Nothing useful among the nightmares. He ran his hands along the walls, clearly looking for hidden mechanisms or weaknesses.
