Liz moans and moves around her chair, but she’s tied so tightly I can see the way her fingers and hands are turning purple.
“Because she doesn’t want to be turned,” I answer, and Franklin gives me a grim smile and stands in silence as Liz wakes up. She goes through the stages of it, the same as I had. Grogginess to confusion, to total panic. She looks up at me with wide eyes, and I must really look like shit because she cries and tries to reach for me.
Franklin’s hand tightens around her shoulder and Liz shouts, but it’s not loud enough to cover the sound her clavicle makes when it breaks beneath his grip.
“It’s okay,” he soothes, stroking Liz’s hair away from her face and her neck. “It’s okay, pet. It’ll be over soon.”
She’s properly crying now and I hate it. I can’t do anything to help her. I’m honestly scared to even move for fear of knocking myself back unconscious.
“Let her go, you fucking piece of shit,” I manage to whisper. I swallow and my throat burns against the collar.
“Not happening.”
“You know I’m the one you want. She isn’t part of this.”
“I think she’ll make a nice warning.”
Dropping into a squat, Franklin whispers something into Liz’s ear. She fights harder, struggling against her binds, and the rope cuts into her flesh. Blood drips down her hands and into a puddle on the floor at her feet. Franklin groans and palms himself between his legs. With his other hand, he grabs Liz by the shoulder, forces her head to the side, and he bites.
Liz screams, and it hurts me more than the silver. I fight against the chains, but I know it’s no use. I’m not going anywhere and neither is she. Franklin stares at me the entire time as he sucks at Liz’s neck, and then she goes limp in the chair. This is insane. It’s too fucking much, and I don’t want to die here. Not today and not like this.
Ezra.
Ezra.
Ezra, please fucking help me.
“Don’t do it,” I plead. I shake my head and close my eyes, but as soon as I do, there’s a hand around my throat, pressing the silver into my skin and my eyes fly open, tears pricking at the corners and blurring my vision.
“You know I’m going to,” Franklin says. He lifts his wrist to his mouth and punctures his own skin, then holds his wrist to Liz’s mouth. She doesn’t move at first, but there’s a fluttering movement and Liz is stretching for Franklin’s wrist, her tongue lapping his blood. He smirks at me and smooths Liz’s hair out of her face while she drinks from him.
“You’re a piece of shit, and they’re going to tear you apart,” I spit. It hurts less than swallowing.
Franklin grins and makes another motion with his chin. Jones goes and fumbles with something in the corner of the room and returns, a blade and glass jar in his hand.
“What the fuck?” is all I’m able to say before Jones stabs me in the neck. The pain is blistering, nothing like a bite, and as I fade out of consciousness again, I wonder if Ezra will miss me when I’m gone.
Ezra.
Ezra.
Ezra.
Ez…
So this is what it feels like to lose
I throw up in my mouth.
Declan’s blood regurgitates up my throat and pours out of my lips. I choke on it. Gag on it. And Henry just stares at me from across the table.
“Is it…?” he asks the question without asking the question.
I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, then flip the table into the air with a roar. Glasses of blood tumble and shatter, and Henry and Jedidiah barely escape being flattened beneath the oak monstrosity. I pace across the room so I don’t need to look Diah in the eye because I can’t tell him what happened. I can’t tell him what I saw.
Fuck this stupid link between me and Declan. It’s useless because he doesn’t know where he is, so I don’t know where he is. He’s in so much fucking pain, and he’s crying out for me and I can’t fucking help him.
And Liz.
